57
They fucked two more times that night, falling into a rhythm of pleasure and sleep. They went at it hard and fast and rough, and then they had a gentle tumble, slow and intense, drawn out and luxurious. They lay in the bed, tangled in limbs and sheets, wrapped up in each other and blankets.
She was tracing his chest, trailing along the bronze flesh, when she stopped over his tattooed Veritasium Medallion. It was then that she noticed it was ridged, perfectly aligned with the black ink. She paused before continuing, but Malik noticed it.
“My father branded me with his medallion as a child. He had thought that perhaps a branding would offer the same protective effects—it did not. However, part of it did transfer to me.” Malik sighed and ran his fingers through Valine’s dark tresses. “I think that’s where he went wrong. Shortly after that, the medallion broke. So, I stole it, and something in me told me to crush it. I don’t know why it worked, but it did.
“I took the powder to a disreputable healer and asked them to make ink with it and cover my brand. When it was completed, I felt the medallion take effect, and I never told anyone. The healer of course was silenced, he had a slew of other problems so I justified his death with that consolation.”
Valine leaned over and kissed the branded tattoo. “I’m sorry he did that to you.” There was silence, and then she spoke again. “Malik…did you kill your father, too?”
It was quiet and she felt Malik pull in a slow, deep intake of air. “Yes.”
“He deserved it.”
Malik kissed her forehead and said nothing more, both of them falling asleep.
At dawn, Malik woke Valine with another kiss to the brow. “I’m leaving before Diana arrives. I’d rather not explain all this. Not yet, at least.”
Valine was groggy but turned to him, seeking his lips. He kissed her sweetly, sweeping his tongue into her mouth. “She’s going to know anyway, but I understand,” she said against his lips.
“Can I come back tonight?” he asked softly.
“Please do.”
Diana did know anyway, the evidence on Valine’s skin was damning. She had love bites on her throat and thighs and fingerprints dancing over her hips. She said nothing, but a coy little smirk hidden when Valine’s back was turned betrayed her knowledge.
“Would it be too much to ask you to send a messenger to Sarim?” Valine inquired. “I would like to know if he’s willing to spar this morning.”
“Not a problem,” Diana said, dipping her head in acknowledgment. “Any particular time?"
Valine shrugged in the bath, lathering herself with jasmine-scented soap. “Whenever he wakes, he’s an early riser.”
Diana slipped away for a moment to send the message, and Valine sunk into the bath, luxuriating in the feel of the hot water unwinding her muscles. Her body had never felt so sated before. Valine smiled as she recalled last night’s gymnastics, the sounds the king had made, the feelings he’d evoked in her.
When Diana returned, Valine had a dreamy look on her face.
“The ōrdinem has been inquiring after you,” Diana announced. “They wish to offer you a boon, as they do not like to leave favors unanswered.”
“Oh?” Valine asked, stiffening. She continued letting the water sift through her fingers, keeping her thoughts off her face. “How come?”
“They wanted to extend to you membership, but they’ve caught wind of other allegiances.”
“To the King of Adraali,” Valine replied, deadpan.
“No,” Diana corrected, voice hard. “To the Vanguard.”
Valine held Diana’s stare, both gazes stone. “I left them years ago.”
“The Vanguard is not something you can just leave.”
Valine cast her eyes away, angry and shameful. “Well, I did. I owe nothing to them.”
“They trained you; they take their pay in blood.”
“I am aware.”
“Valine, are you in danger with them?”
The assassin was silent, and the spirals of steam rising from the water coiled like a veil between the women. Between Valine’s thoughts and the words that she did not want to reveal, she’d thought she’d escaped her past. She thought her membership had been long buried and forgotten, rotting six feet down.
“I took care of it, and one day I will owe a debt,” Valine managed finally.
“You left with an open bargain?” Diana was aghast.
“It was my only option,” Valine bit out. “The Vanguard is not like the ōrdinem. They are cruel and ruthless, and the contracts they take, I abhor. I will not kill unjustly or unwarranted. They do. There are reasons why I staked out on my own, why I never worked for royals. I won’t tread on the Vanguard’s territory,”
The largest reason for Valine’s anti-royalty rules was the Vanguard, the assassin’s guild’s specialty. Messy, yes, but lucrative. Staying away from contracts they could gain was one of the agreements of her departure, but Malik’s offer had been too much to refuse. Now, she was suffering the consequences and debating on how to dispose of her debt with her past.
Diana inclined her head in understanding. “I see.”
“Do you?” Valine challenged.
“You have morals. I can respect that.”
Valine didn’t have a response; she just looked at Diana, her eyes leaking vulnerability. Diana was too perceptive, and noticed this, turning to busy herself with the rack of oils to salvage Valine’s dignity. Blinking away the traitorous feelings, Valine submerged herself beneath the jasmine and lavender water.
She thought about staying under for a while but resurfaced. Immediately after this, she stepped from the tub and toweled off, before slipping into flexible clothing. Dressed in a long-sleeved black wrapped tunic and gray leather leggings, Valine made her way to the training yard, her favorite boots clomping on the stone floor.
When she arrived in the training yard, Sarim was already there, twirling a long staff, dressed in flowy linen and bare of feet. His hair was tied up, but loose strands slipped from its bun and were plastered on his sweat-dampened brow. He grinned when he caught sight of her, tapping the blunt end of the staff onto the dirt-spattered stone.
The training yard was an interior courtyard near the southernmost point of the palace. There were dummies and racks of weapons strewn about the place and walkways circling the space high above, serving as a vantage point as much as a balcony offered the best view at the theatre. This space was dedicated to bettering weaponry and related arts, but it was also a spectacle. The walls were gray stone, scraggly bushes attempting to grow forth from the pavers and between the cracks in the building’s fa?ade. It was a dreary space, but it was effective.
“What made you want to train this morning? We just got back yesterday,” Sarim commented casually.
Valine shrugged, letting her fingers glide over the shining blades. “Nervous energy, I guess.”
Sarim squinted and assessed her. Valine fidgeted discreetly, picking up and putting down knives after she examined them. The slight tang of sweat carried on the wind, mixed with the damp of stone and oil from polishing.
“You two finally fucked,” Sarim said gleefully.
“Fucked?” Valine crowed, picking up a beautiful dagger with a blade of waves and a hilt of amethysts. “Don’t be crass. It was making love.”
“Was it?” Sarim said sarcastically. “I assume there were harps playing and rose petals all over the bed, right? And, of course, it was gentle and sweet and solely missionary.”
Valine smirked. “Something like that.”
Taking the amethyst dagger, Valine brandished it with a few quick strokes through the air. “Care to practice some knifework?”
She refrained from thinking about that kink as she heated.
Sarim chewed on his cheek, clearly wanting to make a comment about her night but deciding against it. “Sure, but you have to take your shoes off.”
She bent to remove the boots, peeled off her socks, tucked them inside, and then moved the boots out of the way.
Sarim glanced over at the table of knives and picked one seemingly at random, swiping it once through the air, a ruby glinting in its pommel. He took a stance across from her in the empty ring, Valine circling the edges of it, the cold stone pricking her bare feet uncomfortably.
“Any idea the plan for the east?” Sarim asked as he darted towards her, blade outstretched.
Valine ducked and skirted to the right. “Not exactly. Adraali already has a solid alliance with Dubon, Thycca—” she leaned back from a swipe, “and Melusda. Things are a little more strained with Ixaitha.”
“Because of the Tri-Region War,” Sarim said as Valine jabbed for him. He rotated away from the blow.
“Yes, and the tension between Valencya and Thycca is only getting worse since Valencya started building that university to rival the one in Valos and asked Adraali for support and funding.”
“That’s not public knowledge,” Sarim said, startled, and his momentary lapse allowed Valine to swipe his arm. A line of blood emerged, matching the ruby in his blade. Sarim hissed and parried back. He missed.
“I’m an expert assassin, Sarim. What do you expect?” Valine thrusted the blade out. “Besides, we know they’re only doing it to piss off Thycca, but in doing so, they’re putting us in an awkward situation. If we choose to fund the university, we are virtually siding with Valencya, but if we refuse, then we are officially aligned with Thycca.”
“You sound like you’d prefer the Thyccan alliance.” He twisted to the left and slashed on the turn.
“If I had to live anywhere else, I would choose Thycca,”
Valine wasn’t willing to elaborate more. She wasn’t willing to tell Sarim that access to medical care from Thycca drastically changed the trajectory of her life, and had she not sought the herbs she did, she didn’t know where she would be today. She didn’t say that because she’d already let her heart bleed her secrets once. It was enough for quite a while.
“Is there a chance my input could be of value?” Valine looked up, caught off guard to see Malik standing on the overhead decking, a smile on his face as he leaned over the rail.
“I’m not certain you’re qualified on the matter,” Valine teased.
“Ah, well, maybe a layman’s opinion can offer new perspective.”
Valine’s lips twitched into a smile. “Perhaps.”
Malik descended the steps to the training area, crossing the space between them, and came to a stop only feet before her. He was dressed in black leather pants and a silk shirt, gold embellishments, and a heavy cloak of suede rested on his shoulders, the lining an ornate pattern of firebirds.
“Good morning,” Malik said softly, warmly.
Valine’s heart fluttered unevenly in her chest. “Morning,” she murmured.
They said nothing more, but their gazes did so much talking. There was heat and promise, reflecting memories of last night and fantasies for tomorrow. Valine felt herself going molten. The desire to shove Malik against the wall and have him inside her was debilitating.
“I swear to Mrithun, if you two start eye-fucking, I’m leaving,” Sarim complained while wrapping a thin strip of linen around his readily bleeding cut.
Malik sighed, smiled, and shook his head. “Does anyone back in Runell know you’re a necromancer?”
Valine, startled, considering the question. “No, I’m sure they don’t.”
“Not even your siblings?”
“I kept it hidden.”
“Does anyone know you’re an assassin?”
“Anyone that remembers me as a lady, does not know that I kill for coin.”
“Good. We’re going to attempt a truce with Runell, and I want you two to lead it. You two have the strongest excuses to be in Runell and linger or explore. You both have family there.” Malik began to pace. “If you two can scope it out, figure out anything we can use, then we’re one step closer to taking down Gallae and Cydra.”
“So, for the sake of clarity—this is a false truce, correct?” Valine asked offhandedly, twirling the amethyst-encrusted blade across her knuckles.
“Correct, we just need an excuse to visit their kingdom. Also…” Malik looked askance at Sarim. “Valine, I’d like to speak to you privately.”
Sarim rolled his eyes. “Well, I plan to continue sparring, so take your horny eyes elsewhere.”
Malik quirked a smile and threw Sarim the middle finger as he put a hand to the small of Valine’s back and guided her along through an archway. Valine hadn’t had much time to scope out the Nyxia palace like she had Selyndyr’s, but from living in Adraali for the past five years, she’d learned much about the layout. Mostly from restricted archives in the library that hosted builder’s plans of the hydromancer powered plumbing system and the architect’s configurations. She’d, of course, killed the guard who’d caught her, but was it really her fault that the guard decided to peer into her fake identification too closely? She’d lifted the card from a former lover, realizing what an excellent opportunity it was that the man she was fucking was a librarian at Adraali’s Great Library. Serendipitous, truly.