Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
W e’re due to arrive in Erdu Castle City in a few days, but we come across a small tavern along the road after bypassing Lyngby. There is no inn, but designated camping areas are available, with metal drums provided for fires. A few groups are already camped, and we claim one furthest away from everyone, appreciating the flat ground and rush of the nearby river in the gorge below.
For a small tavern in the middle of nowhere, it’s bustling with activity. This might be the most diverse gathering of people I’ve seen, including the most Patrons I’ve seen in one place since Osraed. Laughter and hollering, music and singing, the clashing of dishes and glasses—the sound is overwhelming. I can’t help myself as I stride straight toward the musicians, ignoring my hunger for now.
Beans creeps up behind me and offers his hand to dance with a slight bow. I laugh and take it. We dance, and it’s less chaotic than it was with Riley in Jundamara, and certainly less…angsty. The result is the both of us laughing, the crinkle in hi s eyes the obvious reason for the slight wrinkles he’s developing.
After a dance, we join the table where Bitty and Riley are arguing over the merits of washing your hair when you’re cold. I can’t follow either of their logic, but both are very passionate about their stance. Beans and I vehemently decline to pick a side, and we order food instead.
The tavern is old and worn. The tables and chairs are creaky and rickety from use. Every window has been covered in curtains, every lantern flickering. No fire heats the hearth as it’s much too warm already.
I’m leaning against the bar after dinner, people-watching while I wait for service, when a Sadoriborn man catches my eye. His yellow eyes of the sand are a stark and beautiful contrast to the burnt umber of his skin and black hair braided into locs and falling almost to his waist. He smiles in my direction, causing the pale wood piercings that stick out of his nose to jiggle. I frown in confusion and look behind me and spot an equally gorgeous Sadoriborn woman approaching behind me, smiling back at the man. They share a short embrace and move to a table.
Next to where the Sadoriborn man had been seated is a rather short-looking Erduborn man covered in beautiful jewelry. His eyes are closer to red than they are brown, and he has a wide smile that I’m sure is aimed at me this time. He registers my attention on him and raises a glass in offer.
I look at my travel companions, who are all engrossed in conversation. Why not? It’s a drink with an attractive man who doesn’t know who I am. I nod with a shrug, and he moves down the bar to me.
When he reaches me, the man leans in. “How much?” he asks, close to my ear.
I hear a snicker from behind him as I take in his two companions, trying to contain their laughter .
“Excuse me?” I say with deadly calm, stepping back to assess the situation better.
The first Erduborn man, failing to contain himself, repeats the question which sends his friends howling. It’s a dare or something. Ask some unsuspecting woman how much she’s worth for the night. Insinuating that, one, I am a lady of the evening for hire, and two, there’s something offensive about the profession.
I’m about to say he couldn’t afford me when his eyes widen, as do his companions behind him. All three track their eyes up behind me. The swirling flutter inside my ribs and the heat skipping across my skin tell me who is behind me.
“Why is it that you look scared of me ?” Riley’s deep voice rumbles dangerously.
His giant hands rest on my shoulders as the rest of him steps close behind me, and I make note of every part of him that touches me.
“It’s my girl here that would have you three pissing into your boots as you cried for your mothers. I just came for a beer.” Riley leans forward, takes the man’s glass, and downs it in one, slamming it back down with a loud thud.
The three of them stand abruptly and mutter their apologies, still confused. But I watch as their eyes slowly take stock of all the weapons visible on my person. Their faces pale before they trip over themselves getting away.
Riley’s hands continue to rest heavily on my shoulders, his heat searing my skin through my clothes and even my leathers. I make no move to pull away, and neither does he.
“Your girl?” I ask, during a lull in the chaos of sound around us.
“Thought it was better than ‘my assassin,’ but it’s a work in progress.”
I laugh despite myself because he’s not wrong. I am his assassin. He’s the Prince Ofnemoris, and the crown owns me. My laughter catches in my throat as his hands slide in from shoulders to around my throat, his forefingers lifting my chin so I look back and up toward him. His intense gaze looks down at me.
His chest is rising and falling in short succession as if he’s trying to calm himself. “I know you don’t need my protection, Firecat, but I’ll be Divine-damned if I allow anyone to treat you as anything less than the fucking glorious woman you are. As much as it might have turned me on to see you annihilate those cockheads,” he finishes huskily, a curl to the side of his lip.
His eyes flick to my mouth and I think, or dread, or hope, he might kiss me. He strokes my throat and lets me go gently, walking back to the table. I wait there, alone, catching my breath. Correcting the equilibrium in my brain, and the white-hot heat inside me that’s warring with the searing cold absence of Riley’s touch.
Later, in my bedroll, I am yet to calm down. My logical brain is relieved we’re not at an inn and instead camping out in the open. But my slutty brain, located between my legs, is yelling her disappointment as I struggle to fall asleep. I can’t even let my hands wander for relief. I fall into a frustrated sleep at some point, waking just as frustrated the next morning.
The rest of our journey to Erdu Castle City, while difficult with our lack of supplies and dwindling water, was almost enjoyable. Fortunately (or unfortunately, I change my mind daily, hourly even), Riley and I share no more close interactions, and no further heated looks or touches. It’s like old times, pre-kidnap. Except for the gaping hole where Tovi should be.
King Oferdu will have spies all through Castle City, and it will be reported immediately if any of us are spotted. This means we’re unable to go to any of the nicer inns located closer to the castle.
We sell the horses off at a stable and I swallow a teary goodbye. I knew we wouldn’t be able to keep them, but it still sucks. I give the stable hands a lot of my coins to ensure they’re well looked after, and then we head into the city center.
A dilapidated looking nighthouse is bustling not too far from the castle. Unsurprisingly, gold pays for discretion, and we’re able to rent a single room with twin double beds and its own washroom for us to share. Ladies and men of the night attend to their clientele in private rooms, and luckily it seems to be soundproof so far.
I can’t keep my eyes to myself as the professionals parade around the halls and common areas with barely any clothing on. My three companions don’t seem fazed in the slightest. Though scantily clad, the workers freely move around, chatting to everyone. Bitter jealousy coats the back of my tongue at their ability to make people feel welcomed instead of uncomfortable. They’re all so friendly—even though we are surely disturbing them—and I make a mental note, adding nighthouses to my list of pleasant places to stay in the future.
Only Bitty and I can explore the city discreetly. Beans and Riley are far too memorable, being giant Nemorisborn, one of them not a Patron. Both have already been reported in the city.
Beans whips out some Oferdu pins for us, red diamonds with fake Patron numbers in black rhodium. Beans tells me that not too many Patrons mill about Erdu Castle City, so it will be best to keep our hoods up and eyes down, bringing as little attention to ourselves as we can despite the small security of having fake Oferdu Patron pins. The numbers obviously won’t match our tattoos, which requires both of us to ensure they’re fully covered.
I rub my tattoo with the memory of getting it. It’s like being slapped over and over with a switch while simultaneously having a pin scraped along raw flesh. A blue-black set of ten numbers in thick bold writing is tattooed from one side of the widest part of my left forearm to the other.
Some people get tattoos for pleasure or cultural significance, like anyone Oflaguz. Assignments to that country were always fascinating, as I saw how people had permanent pictures inked into their skin and wondered what made them decide on their designs.
I suppose freedom of any kind, including freedom of expression or bodily autonomy, would be fascinating to someone who has none of their own.
Ofosraed people don’t tie themselves to any one country or culture, no matter where it might look like you’re born. Leian doesn’t have Laguzborn tattoos. In the children’s compound, the Sadoriborn head cook, Mastudo, doesn’t have pierced skin with bone or wooden embellishments. Nash, the stablemaster, isn’t covered in jewelry like someone Erduborn.
An exception to this might be Dell, who is Erduborn and the current commander of the Ofosraed peacekeepers. Dell was always decked out in Nemoris leather regardless of whether they’re on duty or not. To be fair, Nemoris leather is the best leather .
We’re faceless, shapeless, ready to mold into whatever country bids to own us.
It’s not often I’ve seen a Patron who fully embraces any one culture, not the one they’re born of nor the one they are sold to. But I recently saw a Nemorisborn Ofmieva Patron draped in extravagant furs—the preferred attire for the Ofmieva people—and it was a sight to behold. I loved it, they looked spectacular. Adding to the allure I suppose, was the fact he was an Ofmieva Patron despite that country’s reluctance to purchase Patrons of the Divine.
Bitty and I make a good pair for the task at hand. They listen for anyone who begins to gossip about us, or if the peacekeepers stationed around Castle City begin to talk. I know how to be a sneak, spotting the best places to hide or disappear as needed. Plus, I can disable someone quietly without them realizing, which unfortunately does happen more than once.
We leave most of our Nemoris leather back in the room as it would have brought too much attention. Being in a hooded cloak while everyone else is in the Erdu style of soft, light fabrics—not to mention that we have no jewelry—is already a risk. Fortunately, we’re rarely given a second glance.
Three times we have had to lure men and women to dark pathways so we can deal with them following us. I knock them unconscious and steal any gold or weapons they carry. Better to make it look like a random act of theft than anything else.
Eventually, a man recognizes me. Apparently, he has an acquaintance who pointed me out to him during a bi-moon market they both work in Osraed. The acquaintance told him I was the Silent Assassin and that if he ever saw me, I was up to no good. Asshole. He’s correct of course, but still, what an asshole .
Bitty says his wife doesn’t believe him, however, he has plans to go to peacekeepers in the morning and let them know. We need to tell the others, and since it’s getting late, we head back to our rooms.
I ditch Bitty before they even walk through the door.
We would have had to discuss what to do, debate, and decide, risking the man changing his plans and going to the peacekeepers early. He needs to die; that’s all there is to it. What is the point of a discussion when I know the result will be the same? We cannot risk him alerting the peacekeepers and losing our chance to find the princess.
Murdering an innocent person is not something I want a witness to, nor do I want the man’s blood to be on any hands but my own. Chances are this man has a family, further requiring a monster for the job.
I’m already a monster. What’s one more piece of my soul so the three of them can keep theirs intact?
I’m sitting on a roof— not in a sneaksuit since I haven’t had a chance to replace it—watching through the window of their little mud brick house. No children, thankfully. I’m still mulling over if I need to kill his young wife when I see him grab her by the hair and yell in her face. I can see the spittle fly from his mouth onto her.
The wife gets to live.
The moon is bright and far enough along the sky that I’m uncomfortable with the amount of time left to do this. I make my way undetected toward the back of their house, which is in the moon’s shadow. He’s inebriated and angry that she doesn’t believe him about me. Of course, she’s saying she believes him now, though it doesn’t matter to him. I can hear his slurred shouts and her whimpers, my blood boiling and rage thrashing.
I have some knives and blades stowed, but using them would raise suspicion, or cause the wife to be the one arrested. It needs to look like an accident. He’s large, as all Erduborn are, and if he could fight, my plan wouldn’t work.
I kick a few things in the back alley, making sure that something hits their back door. Hoping that none of his neighbors are interested, I hide beside the steps, waiting in the darkness. My first problem is that the lazy fuck sends his wife. She opens the door and stands with her arms folded. After a few seconds, she steps down and out, and I grab her.
With a hand over her mouth and a blade to her neck, I whisper in her ear, “You have two choices. Scream and die. Or stay quiet, and your piece of shit husband has an accident. Nod if the second option is more appealing to you.”
The woman gives one shaky nod, and I let her go. Wide-eyed, she turns back to me, her eyes scanning over my silhouette. Tears welling, she melts into the darkness of the alley, and my rage flares as I note a fresh bruise already blooming across her young face.
This whole time, he’s been yelling her name and asking what’s going on. She remains silent even after I let her go. It’s a risk. She could be going for help. But something in her eyes as she backed away tells me I answered a Divine prayer.
Eventually, he stomps to the back door looking for her, grumbling threats. Standing on the top step, he looks out. His wife must be hiding around the corner now, and he hasn’t spotted me right beside him. I need him to take another step down. One step forward.
Go one step forward, you bag of moldy dicks. Tovi would have appreciated my insult. My heart seizes briefly at the thought of her.
When he takes the final step forward, I kick the back of his knees. I lunge onto the top step behind him, jumping to grab the door frame, as my arm hooks around his neck. I let momentum and my weight drag him back, using the force from pushing myself down from the door frame. The resounding crack as his head hits the sharp edge of his concrete step is loud enough to cause me concern about his neighbors.
But no one sounds the alarm. The only sounds are from the man gasping softly as blood gushes from his head. I pull my hood back slightly as I stand over him, making sure he sees me. His eyes widen a fraction. I look up at the sound of soft footfalls. It’s the wife. When she comes closer, she’s shaking, staring in shock at the man who was her husband. I look back down, and his eyes are unfocused. He’s dead.
“What a shame. Your drunk of a husband slipped and fell,” I say pointedly, slipping back into the shroud of darkness, ensuring I am fully cloaked by my hood.
“Yes. Such a shame. Too bad I was already in bed asleep and didn’t notice until the morning,” she replies with a steady whisper.
“Do you have work?” I can’t help but ask, as she stands frozen in place, staring at her deceased husband’s body.
“I’m still an apprentice midwife, but I will be able to start attending births myself in the next moon. That’ll bring coin.”
Further relieved that I haven’t fucked this woman’s future entirely, I start digging in my pockets for the gold I’ve been accumulating from ambushes. I hand her a gold and a few silvers to tide her over until she’s earning her own.
Staring at the coins in her hand, she asks, “Who sent you after him?”
Containing the unhinged bubble of laughter in my throat at the thought of this man being worthy of the Silent Assassin, I answer. “No one. Call it a happy coincidence.” Turning to leave, she whispers a small thank you, and I disappear into the night .
The bakers of the city are starting to wake which means dawn must not be far. I slip all the way back to the nighthouse without incident, Bitty swinging the door open before I even have a chance to turn the handle.
All three of them are awake and waiting for me.