Chapter 13
Roksana
Ireturned to the Chapter House once my preparations were complete.
Shadows flirted with the remaining fae lanterns, obscuring the furthest corners of the corridor, but leaving enough light to expose anyone with evil intentions.
This was the home of the deadliest guild in Dagome; nothing more was needed.
The quiet murmur of voices was my only welcome until I stepped into the Blades’ sanctuary.
The moment the door opened, twenty featureless masks turned in my direction.
I glanced to the side, catching sight of the obstacle course.
My memories of being put through my paces on its many challenges still haunted my nightmares, but my attention didn’t linger.
Brotherhood assassins; each of the twenty wore identical outfits, yet I easily spotted Irsha. He wasn’t just the tallest and most imposing in the room, but his mask had gold eyeliner, highlighting his status for those who knew where to look.
‘Your mask, Nightshade,’ Irsha said, passing me the delicate disguise.
I took it, instantly recognising the familiar weight, but even more so the nightshade flower painted with impossible precision on its polished surface.
He helped me fasten it before I turned towards the gathered men, now silent as ghosts.
‘Do not kill the target,’ I said. They swayed, looking around. They clearly expected a killing spree for the money I’d offered, so I repeated: ‘Do not kill your targets. Your job tonight is to make them swallow this pill and deliver my message.’
‘So we’re serving the poisoners now?’ one asked when I distributed the small boxes, each containing a pill, resting on a cube of ice.
‘You serve the client paying you. If you have a problem with that, you’re free to leave,’ I said. When each of them held my little gift for the council, I continued. ‘Ensure the target has this in their mouth for at least sixty heartbeats, then repeat my message.’
I waited for their undivided attention before speaking. ‘Tu’ere aberrar. Speak ill of Reynard Erenheart, and the breath will die in your throat. Act against the king, and his shadow will come for you.’
Once I’d finished, even Irsha shifted, unsettled. ‘What is the first part of this threat?’ he asked for the sake of his men.
‘You’ve lost your way – a phrase that activates the spell I’ve woven into the poison. Harmless for you, unless you lick the pill. A tasting session can, of course, be arranged.’ I finished with a smirk, forgetting the mask hid my features.
‘Well, that’s fucking new,’ one of the men said, ‘What if I forget the words?’
‘Should I carve it on your forearm for you to remember?’ Irsha’s casual remark made the men snap to attention. ‘I thought so. If any of you need it written down, come forth.’ No one stepped forward, but a few asked me to repeat the message until sure they remembered it word for word.
‘You know the drill. Two for each job. One guards, one force-feeds the pills. If they spit it out, do it again and hold their gobs shut until they swallow. We leave no trace. I’ll meet everyone in the morning. Disperse.’
Irsha’s command sent the men running. When they were gone, he turned to me. ‘Let’s go, Nightshade. The Observers gave me the plans to Yaran’s home. Now’s the best time to approach him unguarded in his bed.’
I nodded, preparing to disappear into the depths of the night. If even one of them failed, my entire plan of thwarting Tivala’s excuse to take over the capital could fall apart. Worse, they could accuse Rey of being a despot who intimidated his council instead of listening to their concerns.
No time for doubt, I thought, nodding to Irsha. ‘Lead the way, Blade.’
We slipped through the city’s underbelly like death incarnate. The occasional passerby flinched back when they caught sight of the masks, suddenly busy with their own affairs.
Yaran’s mansion was well lit, with guards on every corner, the shadows of those patrolling crossing the light at regular intervals. Irsha reached for a dagger, but I grasped his hand.
‘They’re just guards,’ I said, and his eyes narrowed behind the mask.
‘Who won’t hesitate to take our lives.’
‘I know. Try using this instead.’ I handed him a pouch with paralysing powder, and my friend sighed in exasperation.
‘Fine, we’ll do it your way.’ He slipped beneath a dark window and swung a grapple until it attached to the roof.
Irsha climbed swiftly with feline-like grace, and once on the parapet, he pulled a rope ladder from his backpack and lowered it for me.
I was much less graceful as I climbed, but eventually, we were both on the parapet.
Irsha then pried the window open, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter.
The room was bathed in darkness, hiding my scowl, the silence deepening the shadows. The moment I stepped through the window, something squeaked; a discarded child’s toy beneath my boot.
‘Papa?’ I froze at the small voice, and Irsha cursed under his breath. I shook my head, gesturing for him to wait. With a muttered incantation, green flames danced on my palm, transforming into a pirouetting forest sprite as I approached the child’s bed.
The boy, maybe five years old, observed the dancing sprite with eyes wide in wonder, reaching out to touch it.
I let his fingers brush against the magic, the gentle heat making him giggle and giving me time to reach for my belt.
A pinch of Sleeper’s powder was enough to turn his eyes glossy.
Irsha caught him just as his body melted, and he fell back onto the pillows.
‘Sleep well, little one,’ I whispered while my Blade exhaled with relief, his hand shaking a little.
‘That was close,’ he whispered before we moved deep into the manor. I couldn’t agree more, knowing he would rather get caught than hurt a child.
Several candles lit the corridor, an unusual choice for a noble; most preferred the smokeless and safe fae lights. Still, it made our task easier, especially when the draft from the open door was enough to extinguish half of them, bathing the space in darkness.
‘Second floor, fifth door to the left,’ Irsha said, leading us up the stairs.
He kept his promise, using my powder to subdue the guards, though the accusation in his eyes after one cut his arm after not succumbing to my concoction, made me look away in apology.
We ducked into an empty side room while I took out my supplies.
‘Sorry, Blade. Let’s get that bandaged so you don’t bleed everywhere. Knowing this bastard, he’ll have a mage use it to track you.’
Irsha didn’t reply, but he held out his arm for me to dress his wound. We took our time after that, arriving at the ornate door of what must have been the master chambers several minutes later.
‘How do you want to play this?’ he said, holding me back.
‘Same method your men are using, you keep an eye out, while I do the talking,’ I answered, smiling at his indignant huff. ‘Don’t, Blade. I want Yaran scared of the king’s shadow, not a masked assassin.’
He shook his head with an exasperated sigh before pressing on the door handle. The contrast between the dark corridor and the brightly lit room hurt my eyes, and it took me a moment to adjust – a moment too long.
A man leapt off the bed, dagger in hand and, roaring curses, rushed towards us. I couldn’t fault his courage or determination, but who wouldn’t be determined when death came at night, hidden behind painted flowers?
Behind him on the poster bed, between the opulent satin sheets, hid a woman less than half his age, her face frozen in a grimace of terror.
‘I need him conscious,’ I said when Irsha rushed towards Yaran, while I stalked to the bed. I didn’t pay attention to the fight behind me. Irsha was more than capable of handling a flabby, half-naked noble. Instead, I confronted the woman.
‘Are you here of your own free will?’ I knew all too well how some nobles liked to spend their nights, but she surprised me.
‘Of course I want to be here. I’m Marchioness Yarran.’ She spat the words in my face, fear replaced by disdain.
‘Oh. Well, then you have a choice, my lady. I can slit your throat, or you can inhale the powder in my hand and sleep through this entire ordeal.’
My words were purposefully loud. She would be the first step in softening Yaran’s resolve. His wife wouldn’t die tonight, but he didn’t need to know that.
‘Take the powder, Serennah. Take the fucking powder!’ he shouted, struggling in Irsha’s grip. Suddenly, my Blade groaned, backhanding the marquess, who’d sunk his teeth into the assassin’s hand. The protectiveness earned my respect, but didn’t sway my resolve.
‘Who are you?’ Serennah whispered, her face suddenly pale.
‘I’m the Deadly Nightshade, King Reynard’s shadow. I’m here on His Majesty’s business,’ I said, reaching into my pouch. ‘Ready?’ When she nodded, I gestured to the bed. ‘Then make yourself comfortable.’
When she was dealt with, I turned to the man in question. He was on his knees with a steel garrotte around his throat, the wire cutting into the skin.
‘He bit me,’ Irsha said as if this explained the noose and the veins bulging on Yarran’s neck.
‘The bastard ordered you to kill me. Tivala was right; he’s a savage who should be removed from the throne.’ His voice, distorted by the pressure on his larynx, still projected anger. However, it was fear I saw in his eyes, and fear I could use.
‘Is Tivala such a paragon of virtue? Then why is it you who’s risking their life while he sits safely in his manor?
’ I asked, pulling a chair up to add a little intimidation.
‘It’s a shame, but the king didn’t request your death.
I might take it anyway if you oppose me. So, what will it be, old man?’
‘What do you want?’ he asked, and I gestured for Irsha to loosen his hold.