Tris read the words on the side of Bianca’s ear, ‘She’s thinking about death.’ Bianca couldn’t know how many words appeared on her body or exactly what they conjured in the mind of the viewer.

  The thing was, Tris liked death. He didn’t like human death, which was why he was so against the destruction in Frondwick, but he liked death because he was part cat, and death meant dinner. The word death sounded like satisfaction to him, usually in the form of a meal. When he saw the words on Bianca’s ear, his first thought was that he should invite her to dinner. Then, of course, he saw the white canvas tents and remembered where they were.

  Instead of everything else he was thinking, he said the rational thing that was only an afterthought in his psyche. “We should head to my lands, Sun Vine, and see if we can catch the Three Roses,” he declared.

  Len was striding around the camp muttering to himself. “So, let me get this straight. This witch you’re looking for is part witch, and part princess, and part priestess of Tigrix?”

  “Yes. The part of her that is in love with Tris is the priestess. The witch-third is in love with someone else,” Reign said, like he was sure what he said was true.

  “But who?” Bianca asked Reign. “It would help us if we could find the man. Then we could consult with him. If you know, it would be more diplomatic if you didn’t keep it a secret.”

  Reign struggled. “I’d rather not say.”

  Bianca didn’t need to roll up her sleeve to figure out the answer to that. It was him. He just didn’t want to admit that he had probably experienced something similar to Tris. It embarrassed him. Had he also been locked up?

  “In the morning, Bianca and I will head to Sun Vine,” Tris said.

  “Would you consider taking Crimson with you?” Reign said quietly, quiet enough that she wouldn’t be able to hear him make the recommendation.

  Crimson was down the road from the camp, lying atop the dead demon graves. She was armed to the teeth and weeping like she had become the personification of death, if death was the color of blood on top of more blood.

  Reign gave his justification. “She’s going to be attacked by demons. I’d feel much more comfortable if you were with her, Archpriest. It may be too late to block the interest of the demon community, but if you were with her, you could help her fend them off like you did today. I’d do it myself, but I’m here to treat patients.”

  “Yeah, I can see how they love you here,” Tris said as he looked out into the woods, better able than any of the others to see how many disgruntled woodsmen watched them. “Honestly, there’s blood in their thoughts as they hide in the woods. I’m sorry to leave you alone with them. You conjured a sword from the Astral Plane, so you must not be a weakling, but still, they may be too much for anyone.”

  “You won’t be leaving me alone,” Reign pointed out. “Len is here, and they’re just men, not demons.”

  Crimson lurched toward the group like a corpse that had been put in motion by zombie magic. “So, Len will stay in Marshgate instead of heading back to the Earldom?” she interrupted.

  Reign nodded.

  “Then I’ll go with Tris and his corpse bride. I’d rather not lead demons to the Earldom,” she reasoned.

  It wasn’t until that moment that Reign realized the incredible flaw in his plan. If Crimson went to Sun Vine with Tris and Bianca, and Len stayed with him in Marshgate, no one would be able to get his letter to Olive. That would simply not do.

  “Can the three of you travel back through the Earldom on your way to Sun Vine?” he asked, trying to keep his desperation out of his voice. “I need someone to deliver a message.”

  Len clapped both his hands over Reign’s mouth. “He didn’t mean that. Sun Vine is east. The earldom is south. He’s not asking you to go out of your way for four days’ worth of travel when speed is obviously paramount. Frondwick shouldn’t lose sovereignty because Reign wants to have a note delivered to his lady-love. Right, Reign?”

  Len took his hand away from Reign’s mouth as he was on the verge of having a temper tantrum the likes of which could only be matched by Crimson herself when Len whispered, “I know your girl. We’ll be able to work it out with just you and me after they leave.”

  Reign brought his eyebrows together in confusion. “How do you know?”

  “It’s a smaller place than you think.”

  Crimson sat next to Tris and directed her question toward him. “If we’re going to fight together, can you tell me about yourself?”

  “I’m an Archpriest of Tigrix and can take feline form at will,” he said, trying not to gloat.

  “I thought it took a ritual,” she muttered.

  He winked at her. “It does, but I’ve already performed my ritual. You’re welcome to accompany us. If you’re getting attacked by servants of Taurus, and he’s supporting the plague here, then I’d be happy to help you do away with each and every one of them. But I’ve got to say, you look like a demon.”

  Crimson smacked her lips distastefully. “I’ve heard that. Do you think it makes me unlovable?” she couldn’t resist asking, peering at the prince with blood lighting her eyes.

  Tris’s nose twitched, not unlike a cat. “No more than her,” he said, pointing at Bianca with his thumb. “And she is the fairest of them all.”

  Crimson loved his answer and smiled broadly, which was terrible in its own way. Bianca smiled with her, her irises turning white in contrast. It was ghoulish. Neither of them was love’s young dream.

  Reign looked at Bianca across the camp. The necromancer mask on his face was not for show, and what he knew about Bianca just by looking at her would have been very illuminating for those around her, especially Tris, but Reign decided to keep quiet. The reality of her situation was not as important as what she and Tris were out to do. Preventing the plague was more important, and if Tris found out what had happened to Bianca to make her that way, with the words that read under her jaw, ‘Did you like the taste of her throat? You’ll love the taste of mine.’

  He considered the words. Were they directed to him specifically, referring to Olive and how he had kissed her? Or did they just exist to make everyone around Bianca crazy? It seemed paradoxical that the writer of the words wanted to incite those around her to hurt her, but that was the case.

  He let his questions slide. It was better to leave Bianca as she was without pondering the exact nature of her condition. Her friendship with Tris was of vital importance to her, and if Tris found out the truth, he might not have been able to continue on with her. She desperately needed his protection. How squeamish was he?

  The next morning, Reign said goodbye to Crimson and the others with the blood recently washed from his hands and a smile on his face.

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  Crimson shook hands with him, and her eyes seemed so sharp as she glared at him that she might slice him with only a look. “I wish you’d reconsider,” she said, obviously speaking of her offered romance.

  Reign let go of her hand. “There’s someone else in my life, and from the marks on your throat three days ago, there’s someone in your life too.”

  She looked down at her empty hand sorrowfully. “Please don’t use that as an excuse. If you really liked me, you wouldn’t care who had been crushing me against a wall and whispering wild promises in my ear. You’d want me for yourself. Thanks for everything, though. It’s been memorable.” Unhappily, she stepped away from him and mounted her horse. Taking the reins in her capable hands, she favored him with a tiny salute and pointed herself on the road that led to Sun Vine.

  Tris looked at the ground and inspected it. Perhaps the motion caused him to notice he was still wearing the limp cravat because he ripped it from his throat and cast it into the bushes. “Look away,” he said, pulling his clothes off piece by piece and tossing them toward Bianca, as if she were his maid. Once naked, he raised his shoulders in one movement, and he was a cat in the next. He dropped his paws to the earth, lowered his back, and waited for Bianca to mount him.

  Reign smiled at the two of them. “That is a sight I wondered if I would ever see. Tigrix must be powerful indeed if he can bestow such abilities on his priests. It was a pleasure to have met you, and thank you for cutting in on my battle and winning. It saved me a lot of trouble. And Bianca, if you truly want to hide the words on your skin, I recommend you give up trying to look normal. Really cover yourself.”

  “Is that your advice as a doctor?” she asked, pouting her red lips in rebellion. It didn’t do her much good to be the fairest in the land if no one could see her.

  “No. My advice as a doctor is always to cut it off. If you want me to skin you just enough so that no one can read anything on your skin, my door is always open.”

  Bianca had seen many doctors, and none of them had ever offered her anything that radical. She glared at him. “You might as well kill me.”

  He snorted and said goodbye.

  In the next moment, Tris, Bianca, and Crimson were on their way. Reign would have liked to watch them until they disappeared, but there was a commotion in the village, and he was required.

  No chopping off limbs that day. It was a good day, because he was stopping the spread of the plague with herbs and cleansers. That constituted a very good day.

  When he finally made it back to the drop zone, he found Len with his feet in a bucket of water, cleaning them.

  “Scared you bad enough, have I?” Reign said with a sly smile.

  “Well, yeah,” Len admitted.

  “If you get good enough at it, you should consider coming into the village and helping me with the cleaning. I could use a spare set of hands.”

  “I’m only here as your guard. Except I have to tell you something that is really going to bother you.”

  “You think something can bother me? I cut off a child’s foot last night, and I can still whistle in the morning. You said you know who I’ve been seeing back in the Earldom, so there is no problem. We can head back when we’ve handled the problem here, and I can be introduced to her formally.”

  Len smacked his lips unpleasantly. “Yeah, we won’t be doing that. You’ve already been introduced to her formally.”

  Reign thought back to all the different women he’d met while he was in the Earldom. There had actually been quite a few. Had Olive been one of them? Someone at the inn where he’d stayed? There were quite a few serving wenches. He thought carefully, but no one he’d met stood out as Olive without her mask.

  Len frowned. “I’m really going to have to spell it out for you, aren’t I?”

  Pulling a blank, Reign said, “Please do.”

  He rubbed his eyes painfully. “It’s Crimson.”

  “No!” Reign exclaimed, unconsciously taking a step backward.

  Len scoffed, “Yep. That love bite on her neck that you kept throwing in her face is your own masterpiece. You spent nearly a week with her as Crimson Crosshair, and you didn’t recognize her. After I saw you rip open the Astral Plane, I thought you might realize that only someone like you who had the power to do that could hurt Crimson. She’s part demon. You’re part demon. You’ve got that thin layer of the Astral Plan around you. I mean, you know where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. Didn’t you wonder why the girl you were making out with was able to bear it? Or question who had been able to leave a mark on Crimson?”

  Reign found himself panting for breath. He felt like an idiot. “No. I didn’t even think of it.”

  Len favored him with a now-you-know look before turning his back on him and giving Reign a chance to think.

  Reign fell down on his bottom and let his legs bend in front of him, allowing his heels to dig in the dirt. He had never been more shocked in his life, and Reign had endured quite a few shocks. His curse had been completely out of the blue. Living among the kingdoms below the Astral Plane had been another surprise. When the witch part of Rose Trine fell in love with him, that had been astonishing.

  It wasn’t exactly that. The part of Rose that fell in love with Reign was the witch, which meant she dealt in curses, and the way witches treat the plague did not sit well with Reign, so he was at odds with her. When a witch treated the plague, she changed the way a human body reacted to it. The person still had all their limbs, but they were not human the way they had been anymore. The fungus was allowed to take root in the person’s brain, and they became a host for the fungus, which would eventually become very good at pretending to be human.

  Rose was a fierce advocate for the witch magic cure, denying that there was any change to the patient’s personality or character. Those people were called The Touched, which was a nice way of saying they were unalterably brain-damaged. Even peasants knew they would rather lose an ear than lose themselves.

  The truth was that Reign was a necromancer masquerading as a plague doctor. That didn’t mean he wasn’t competent or compassionate, but he had something to gain from the death and blood of each of his patients, which helped him keep a level head at all times. If someone had a limb or a life to lose, Reign had something to gain. Every time he put his saw to a limb, it was as if invisible coins were being dropped in his magic reservoir in the Astral Plane. Those bits of payment were where he drew his power from when he used magic, and temporarily healed the horse’s ankle, and how he had power for any magic at all. That was why he didn’t need payment or praise for his services. He was being paid, and handsomely. There was no limit to how much magic he could store.

  Those who recognized he was a necromancer were always curious and cautious. What was he stocking up power for? There were a fair number of things he could get with his power. Ultimately, he was saving up enough power to break the curse that came with his black mask and return him to his home in the Astral Plane. When might that be?

  It always seemed beyond his grasp.

  It meant that all his time, all his ability, and whatever was left of his soul were used in fighting the plague. It also meant that it was not good for his trade to lose his patients to witches.

  A few weeks before, Rose had been at a plague outbreak. She had been very interested in showing her skills, and she saved three people who were very close to death. Yes, the three people hadn’t died, but they hadn’t lived the way they used to. Rose and Reign argued over which of their cures was best. Rose could deny all his claims of harm, whereas he could do nothing to counter what was true about his cure. If he saved them, they wouldn’t have their ears in the morning.

  Rose hated him and spat at him because he was completely different from her. She liked potions, incense, and the spells she recited. Reign had a strong stomach and performed surgeries, which infuriated her. He could do things she didn’t have the stomach to do. She publicly denounced him. She insulted him to his face on any number of occasions.

  It was mind-reeling for him when she began winking at him and throwing vague sexual nuances his way. He didn’t miss them, but he also didn’t return them.

  Sitting in the dirt, Reign thought about Rose and how she compared to Crimson. There was no question, he was infinitely more fond of Crimson, even before he knew her identity as Olive. He saw at once that he had not been the only one who had benefited from the mask on the evening of the ball when he met her in the greenhouse. She had been concerned that he might not love her if he could see all of her, and she had been right. He didn’t love her for who she was.

  He loved half of her.

  Shamefacedly, he tried to think of a way that he could have Crimson the way he had at first. Maybe she wouldn’t mind covering her eyes at night when they were alone together. Reign’s right hand slapped himself across the face before he could process why that was incredibly insulting and completely impossible. He thanked his hand and let it fall to the ground between his legs, tracing in the dirt to see if he could think of a solution.

  Could he love her the way she was?

  He hated himself. It was so clear that she could love him the way he was. She had no complaints. She had already followed him to a quarantined area and fought demons to protect him.

  He needed time to think. Len had been right not to tell him the truth about Crimson until it was too late for him to follow her. It gave him the time he needed.

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