Chapter 12 #2
And just like that, they move on.
The General just exiled a member of his government, and they’re discussing wine.
Watching that whole scene unfold, has me thinking…
If noblefolk are not safe from the wrath of the General for a minor offense, I don’t want to find out what happens to me if I fail to assassinate him.
So, I mix drinks, muddle fruit, and serve plump blossom wine with my head down.
The tiny envelope with its poisonous flower hidden in my sleeve itches my forearm.
Every time I glance at the large gold clock on the wall, it seems like the time is moving too fast.
I’m running out of it.
By now, my back is drenched in sweat. The dinner is about to end soon. I’m yet to get to my assignment.
My heart races, adrenaline pumping through my veins as if the mountain lion is chasing me.
Can I find it in myself to kill someone?
I can’t do it.
I can’t do it.
No.
A voice roars inside my head. I can do it. I can’t fail this.
Not when my freedom depends on it.
It’s either my freedom, or the General’s life.
And I’m never the one to choose other people over me. Even if it means taking someone else’s life to save mine.
I glance around the bar. Only one other bartender is inside; the others are serving drinks.
“Ey, boy.” The owner taps the front of the bar in front of the other bartender. “Make another whiskey drink for the General. Extra strong, add extra marinated cherries on the side. Quickly, quickly!”
The bartender scrambles to quickly make the drink. Sweat drips down his right temple.
It’s my chance.
Carefully, I slide the envelope out of my sleeve into my palm. I take the stone grinder and shake the dried leaves into it.
With a stone mortar and pestle, I grind the flower in a few swift movements until it’s only a fine, whitish powder.
Swiftly, I transfer the powder back into the envelope and turn my back to the bar.
From the shelf, I grab the last jar of marinated cherries. Returning to my station, I shove the jar behind the dish with garnish.
The other bartender finishes mixing the drink and goes over to the shelf to look for cherries.
Once he notices that there are none left, he rushes to the back of the bar to look for more.
Whistling a joyful tune under my breath, I take a wet cloth and start wiping the surface of the bar.
My movements are casual, tune cheery, eyes trained on the table in front of me.
Everyone’s occupied. Not a single pair of eyes pays attention to the lone bartender scrubbing the bar top clean.
With a pounding heart, I wipe the bar next to the whiskey drink and pour the powder inside in one swift movement.
I’ve got the hands of a thief, after all.
In no rush, I finish wiping the bar and return to my station to cut some more fruit.
When the other bartender returns with a new jar of marinated cherries, I pay him no attention.
Carefully, he scoops out three cherries and drops them inside the glass.
Time slows.
Thump-thump.
One.
Thump-thump.
Two.
Thump-thump.
Three times he stirs.
He scoops some more cherries into the side dish he places next to the drink.
Thump-thump.
Another bartender comes around to pick up the tray with the drink. He brings it to the General.
Thump-thump.
When the General takes the fresh drink and brings it to his mouth, I think I may pass out.
Thump-thump.
But the General doesn’t hesitate. He drains half the glass in one gulp.
A few laughs.
Thump-thump.
A heated, hushed conversation with the Taaslord.
Thump-thump.
Soon, his glass is empty and he’s waving at the server for another one.
Thump-thump.
I bow my head.
I can’t look.
My hands shake as I cut into the lemon.
Thump-thump.
“General?” Noblewoman Gadhi’s voice reaches my ears.
Worry laces every word.
I fight the urge to look up.
“I don’t—” the General speaks.
Chokes on his words.
Thump-thump.
Nervous chatter.
Thump-thump.
Dishes clatter.
Thump-thump.
A scream.
I raise my gaze.
The great Ezkai General Kitajo Hiromasa is hunched over the table. His dark eyes are glassy. Staring right at me.
As if he knew right before he died.
Everyone’s on their feet, screaming and shouting at each other.
But I don’t see their faces, the fear and confusion in them.
The only thing I can focus on is the dead fae staring at me.
“Ey, boy, get over here.” The owner waves at me.
Despite the shock, I make my feet move forward. A wave of nausea rises.
Just as I round the bar and approach the owner, I hunch over and retch my stomach out at his feet.
“Eye, boy, get out of here! Go, go!” The owner shakes his head and waves his hand at the back of the bar. “Useless, these younglings.”
Stumbling on my feet, I manage to get myself to the back of the bar.
My back to the wall, I lean my head against it and breathe.
I can’t get enough air into my lungs.
That image of the General hunched over the table, eyes on me, is burned bright into my mind.
I can’t escape it.
With an exhale, I brush a hand over my hair and push myself off the wall.
When the fresh air hits my lungs, I can finally breathe.
For the first time ever, an unfamiliar emotion weights on my chest—guilt.
It’s as heavy as pockets full of gold. And it carries a veil of dark misery.
I can’t rid myself of its stench.
Ezkai General, the most powerful fae in Ekios, is dead.
And it’s on me.