"No, that's a Banshee," Astreia said, hooking her thumb in my direction. She didn't stay to hear the Reaper's explanation, choosing to rush back to Yoko's side. I knew she would have a lot to say to me later about the Reaper, but for now, her mind was on other things.

"Banshee. Not Deathsinger. There's a difference," the Reaper grumbled as he followed me out of the woods. I appreciated his insistence on separating the two.

"How is she?"

The princess shrugged her shoulders and cleaned around Yoko's mouth. "Better now. Her breathing is deeper."

"She should be stable now that the Banshee is gone," the Reaper said. "Her Song was pulling on her soul."

"You're the Reaper from the prisons."

"You're the princess from the prisons," he countered.

Eager to avoid this conversation, I jumped in and said, "For Astreia, will you explain the difference between that out there and..."

"You?"

He said it so cheerfully I wanted to hit him. Through gritted teeth, I replied, "Precisely."

"Originally, Deathsingers were created to guide lost souls to the Other Realm. They were only given the ability to pull souls from a body to fight against the High Elves, and even then, they often only Sing to remove the Blessing, making it easier for mortal weapons to kill them in battle."

Astreia nodded, none of this new to her while I soaked up every word. "And the Banshee?"

"I know the Elvish people use the term banshee interchangeably with Deathsingers, but Banshees are Deathsingers gone bad. Banshees Sing and–" the Reaper put his finger in his cheek and made a popping noise, then grinned when Astreia and I glared at him. "Anyway, they consume the soul, and any magic that the creature possesses belongs to them. They start out looking normal, but the more souls they consume, the more they look like Death."

"I heard some of those stories when I came to the palace, but I always assumed it was just Edreshian lies. My mother should have told me they existed, but then, maybe I was too young..." Astreia swallowed a sob and watched Yoko while she slept.

"They're not supposed to be here. They were banished long ago to the human realm."

Astreia nudged Yoko, a playful smile on her face. "I told you humans were real."

The Reaper looked at me, and I knew he was thinking about the Winter Woman in the palace. He hadn't mentioned that part about Banshees before. What else had he kept from me?

"I think our world is feeling the strain of being disconnected from the portals. The veil between realms is tearing, and that's going to let things in. Monstrous things."

I touched my throat. The notes of the Banshee's Song stuck there, tasting like something soured. "She called me Sister."

The Reaper frowned. "She recognized like magic is all." He stepped forward and brushed his fingers over the scrapes on my face and arms. "Are you injured anywhere else?"

The wound in my side throbbed, but I wasn't about to raise my shirt in front of him. Not after his little comment about being in his bed.

"Let's go back to the part about ripping fabric and dimensions," Astreia said, dragging my thoughts away from a dangerous path.

"What part didn't you understand?" he asked, walking in a circle around our camp.

"Are you always this difficult?"

"Always," I replied to Astreia before I could stop myself.

Shifting Yoko to a more comfortable position, she dropped the cloth into the warm water and rang it out. Then, she came to me and wiped away the bloody smears left by the vines and rough earth. Her touch was soothing and familiar despite the grim set of her mouth as she worked.

"Why is he here?"

She spoke low enough only I could hear her, but he knew we were talking about him. Tossing me a rakish wink, he continued his patrol about the area, his long legs eating up the distance with ease and sinuous grace.

"To help you get back to Estrellum and me to Araphel."

"What else?" She stopped cleaning me and bunched the cloth in her hand as she struggled to control her emotions. For all her knowledge of his world, she wasn't completely unaffected by the stories about his kind.

"Not for her or you," I promised. My palms felt rough against her satin skin as I put my hand over hers. So often on this journey, she'd offered me comfort. Now it was my turn to do the same.

"Tievel, then," she whispered. "He wants you to Sing?"

"No, and I won't! He blames Tievel for what's happening. He claims the Blessing given to the High Elves is causing the balance to shift, but Tievel wants to fix that."

She flinched beneath the ferocity of my declaration. I expected her to be happy about my refusal. No love was lost between her and the prince, but she would never truly wish him dead. The king was her enemy. Tievel was as much a pawn in his schemes as she was.

Instead, Astreia grasped my shoulders. "You have to Sing."

The Reaper retraced his steps and stopped on the opposite side of where we stood. With the fire blazing in front of him, he looked like a demon rising from the flames—his brown eyes burnished with molten gold. The shadows behind him moved as the breeze shifted the fire. I half expected music to accompany the macabre dance.

"What?" I demanded when he continued to stare.

"I'm waiting for you to argue with your friend. Tell her why exactly you won't do your duty because finally someone in your life besides me is speaking sense."

"Morana," Astreia pleaded when I tried to remove myself from her grasp, "I know you love him, and deep down—very deep down—Tievel is a good man. But the Reaper is right. There are so few immortals left in our world, but the ones that remain would rather destroy us all than give it up. He's not asking you to kill Tievel, he's asking you to restore the balance."

"And what about you? Would you have me take your Blessing from you, or are you a hypocrite?"

She glanced at Yoko, the soft smile on her face taking away the sting of my anger. "I hope that you will Sing for me when it is time. No one is supposed to live forever. Not this way. And my life is certainly no more valuable than another's. Neither's is Tievel's."

My resolve had already weakened when the storm disappeared, taking its magic with it. Adding Astreia's voice to the argument would be my undoing. How could I tell her I wouldn't do it when we both knew it would cost innocent lives?

"Look at this way," she said, smoothing back my hair to keep the strands from sticking in my tears. "You're not killing him. You're only correcting a mistake that was made a long time ago."

"She's right." The Reaper rocked back on his heels. "I'm going to kill him."

"You're not helping," Astreia snapped as I cried harder.

At that moment, I hated myself. I'd spent my entire life walking a careful line to protect myself, and when Joreen died, I decided to be better than that. Yet here I was, still protecting myself. Avoiding heartbreak wasn't worth the end of the world.

"Find proof," I said, shocking Astreia and the Reaper into stunned silence. He stared at me with an uncomfortable intensity that faded when I held up a single digit. "Find proof that Tievel is involved in what is happening, and I'll do it."

"That could take days yet. Weeks." Astreia said.

The Reaper appeared thoroughly disgusted. "The Banshee is only the beginning, and you want us to wait."

"And if I Sing for him and it doesn't stop, I will be the one who lives with that pain. Those are my terms."

The Reaper walked through the fire, knocking orange embers to the ground where they flared brightly before turning to gray ash in the cold. This time, his touch wasn't gentle when he grabbed my arm, and I bit back a whimper as he shook me.

His hands dropped to his side the moment he heard the noise, but he didn't back away, hissing, "They're going to be drawn to you. You are putting yourself in danger by staying with him. How many more times? Five? Six? A dozen? I am duty bound to end the Darksbane line, so I followed him after you got back to the camp. The only reason I made it to you tonight was because I turned around when I realized he was going for a healer. I—"

It was the most information he'd ever revealed about how he was always at my side when something went wrong. Tievel was never far away whenever the Reaper materialized.

"I know it's important for me to stay alive so I can Sing to make your life easier, but I promise if I find myself in mortal peril, I'll Sing right away."

I was serious, but I couldn't keep the venom from my tone. It shouldn't have bothered me so much that his motivation for keeping me safe was so he could do his job, but it did.

"You're infuriating," he grunted, crossing his arms over his chest while giving me a once over. Astreia stood between us, her mouth agape and eyes wide as she followed the exchange. "You really won't make this simple, will you? What does it matter if you do it now or a week from now? I suppose you'd like to get a few more nights alone in the tent?"

The princess almost fainted on the spot, and I fought back a blush. "You're a child."

"Says the Deathsinger whose tantrum over doing her duty is going to destroy the world."

"You're both acting like children," Astreia said, slicing her arm through the thick tension roiling between the Reaper and me. "Enough."

"I'll see what I can uncover, but I can't make any promises. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but you need to make sure you stay close to Tievel." The prince's name sounded like a curse in the Reaper's mouth. "I'm sure that won't be a burden."

In the distance, a white light flickered, and Tievel's voice carried on the wind. Astreia sagged against me in relief. Kissing my cheek, she rushed away to flag him down. Her inner starlight almost blinded us as she crested the hill and waved her arms.

"Speak of the devil."

I stuck out my hand. "Do we have a deal, then?"

He hesitated, then took my hand and gripped it tight.

"I'll do my part if you do yours. Stay safe."

And then he was gone.