Chapter 4 #2
He twirls his daggers. “King Elion loves sending his assassins to do his dirty work, doesn’t he? You would know. You’ve been doing it since you were…” His auburn hair falls to his brow as he tilts his head to the side. “At what age does he give out missions? I’m guessing twelve.”
My face blanches. “How do you know that?”
No one knows specifics about the brotherhood, so how does he?
I continue to watch his feet, calculating his movements, and notice how he hasn’t tried to hurt me.
He’s made no swift strikes—no attempt at cutting me.
Instead, he’s focused on dodging my blades, but every move of his is precise and calculated.
“I know all about you, darling,” he says, but his eyes go dark. “King Elion isn’t who you think he is, but I do think you should know who you’re killing.”
“And who’s that?” I snap.
Anger flashes in his eyes. He growls, “Innocents.”
A noise suddenly drifts by, causing his attention to briefly flick to the door, when I take advantage of the distraction and lunge. His eyes snap to me as he dodges, but I predict his move. And before I can question the sudden need to hesitate, I throw out a dagger.
The blade instantly hits its mark—his heart.
He grunts, holding his chest as his eyes go wide with shock, and takes a staggering step back, bracing a bloody hand on the wall behind him with a gasp.
His breathing becomes labored as he holds my gaze and slowly slides down the wall.
I stalk forward, a small smile creeping up the corners of my mouth.
“It’s a shame,” I mutter, looking down my nose. “I actually liked you.”
He chuckles despite a knife being lodged in his chest. “You put up… a good fight.” He breathes. “I’m impressed.”
I crouch down and let out a soft laugh, then gently slide the knife out of his chest. Blood drips from his mouth while he stares at me. Killing isn’t something I particularly enjoy, but I’m good at it.
“You should be. I’m the best,” I mutter, and intently scan his face again, committing his striking features to memory. Up close, I realize his blue eyes remind me of an ocean sunset, especially with the hint of gold in the middle.
I admit, killing the male that made me want to come on his face the previous night isn’t what I was expecting, but I kill who King Elion orders—no questions asked.
Even if they are beautiful.
“You’re going to… regret this in the morning.” He chuckles but it comes out rattled, and then he winces. “I really… hate dying.”
My brows knit as I frown, watching his face pale, and an unexpected sadness creeps in. And something else that’s a little hard to name. Guilt, maybe.
My eyes flare at the realization. Do I feel… guilty for killing my target? Since when do I feel guilty?
Before I can question the unexpected emotion, his head slumps forward and his hands go limp, dropping to his sides. I wait a moment before checking his pulse—nothing. I exhale, eyeing the blood pooling on the floor.
Dirty indeed. Just like King Elion asked.
With a quick wipe of my dagger on his tunic, I sheathe my blades and glance down, spotting the edges of my jeweled mask tucked between my breasts. A swift tug pulls it free, and I toss it on his lap as a final farewell.
Smoothing out my dress, I make my way to the door. Luckily, there isn’t a single drop of blood on it again. With my ear against the wood, I check for any signs of the innkeepers this late. If I wait any longer to leave, they’ll find the guard I left behind.
The door lets out a creak before I quietly shut it with a soft click. After scanning my surroundings, I quietly reach the end of the hallway, exiting the back of the inn.
In my twenty-five years, I’ve found that walking is the best way to leave a mission, otherwise you risk alerting everyone in the area. So I keep my pace slow and controlled, bunching up the ends of my dress as I turn toward the main street.
Humans and Fae litter the city, but it’s a quiet walk. Inns are filled and taverns are busy. A few tipsy females huddle in a group, clearly giggling from too much drink. It used to not be like this—everyone getting along.
When Elderheim and Aurelia were at war, humans couldn’t walk around without being beaten half to death. Aetheri and Halflings were constantly battling, causing brawls in the middle of the streets. Taverns were segregated for Fae and humans.
Until we closed our borders after the War of the Veilstone, distancing ourselves from Aurelia—the realm of the Shadovar, the dark Fae, known for their manipulation.
Two realms share one continent, and although different, our powers only weaken when crossing into their land, never fully disappearing.
A warm breeze brushes across my skin as my boots crunch the familiar gravel leading to the castle. Sweeping my hair out of my face, I find myself thinking about what Alec said.
He knew a lot about me, including the king. Knew that I was trained in the brotherhood—trained by Ren—and how first missions are given at twelve. He knew about Ezra.
My stomach twists at the thought.
King Elion wouldn’t send me to kill innocents, would he? I’ve known from the beginning that my targets are criminals, paid to be eliminated by the elite.
But Alec wasn’t innocent.
Not with how he fought. A male like that had to have had blood on his hands. My thoughts swirl, hating how my target has suddenly made me question the king I serve.
And regardless of knowing that Alec was probably wrong, I nervously thumb the inside of my wrist where a small scar sits. It’s almost too faint to notice by anyone other than me and a habit I picked up when I’m anxious or lost in thought.
A faint scar shaped into a vine, curling into a circle with an intricate center—colorless.
I’m unable to recall the memory, but Ezra reminded me that we branded ourselves after the Painted Bird one night as a dare, drunk off wine.
I smile at the thought, thinking of Ezra and how close we’ve gotten over the last few years.
The entrance to the castle gleams under the soft glow of the moon. Walls crafted of white stone, its towers reaching into the sky. I finally reach the gates, the scent of smoke filling the air. A fire is lit.
It doesn’t take long before I pass through the castle walls after greeting Silas at the gates.
He’s one of the few human guards I actually like.
Even though he likes to effortlessly flirt with me when he gets the chance, I sometimes come outside to chat with him when I can’t sleep and show him my magic.
The staircase to my left leads me to my chambers, but if I were to take the door on the right, it opens into the courtyard—a vast, enclosed space surrounded on all sides of the castle. It’s not open to outer lands like normal courtyards, as every inner wall is visible from within.
I’m unsure if it was out of convenience or favoritism, but the king placed me at the edge of the castle—a location with easy access to leave if I need to run one of his errands.
Reaching the top of the stairs, I twist the knob to my chambers and enter with a deep breath. My eyes close as I savor the familiarity of it.
I instinctively inhale the scent of the mantel and fresh air that floats in. Three arched windows come to a point across from the door, and next to that is a stone mantel that’s surrounded by settees. Farther in and to the left is my four-poster bed and bathing chamber.
I’m treated better than the majority of my brethren, as none of them have a chamber quite as grand as this one, but I believe that maybe it’s because I’m the only female.
I glance down and sigh. There’s not much on my dress, but I feel ridiculous and filthy, especially after the way tonight ended. I kick my boots off and stride into the bathing chamber.
After quickly washing my night away, I slide into bed, my eyes landing on the black coin resting on the table next to me. The coin I found at the brothel the previous night.
I find myself thinking of Alec again and what my plans were supposed to be. The random pang of sadness I felt as I slid the knife out of his chest. It was odd—I’ve never felt that on a mission before.
Questions bounce around in my head as I stare at the ceiling, exhaustion tugging at me as I revisit Alec’s last words. Then a sliver of unease curls in my stomach—I brushed past it in the moment, too focused on ending him. But now, as the quiet settles in, it hits me.
Did he say he hated dying?