Chapter 38
I t must have been morning on the next day, but Aelrie wasn’t sure of the time. She’d spent hours drifting in and out of sleep, when she was able to sleep and not tossing and turning, and being unable to quiet her mind.
The purple light from the crystal lamps did little to lighten her mood. The satin sheet slipped from her shoulders as she sat up.
She wrapped her arms around herself, not from the cold, but because the guilt was unbearable.
Something metallic glinted on top of the dresser, and it caught her attention, so she walked over to investigate. Gold coins sat on the surface of the dresser.
She picked them up, rolling them around in her fingers, feeling their filth.
This was … her payment.
A low sound of anger pushed up from her throat, and she threw the coins onto the floor.
Kestrel stepped into the room after knocking once. She took one look at the uneaten food now starting to rot and then the coins on the floor and frowned.
“Mistress Valeria requests your presence. ”
She straightened her back and watched as Kestrel knelt to place the boots at her bedside.
Her mind formed scenarios of attack while staring at Kestrel’s broad back—find a dagger concealed in the assassin’s leather outfit and stab her in the back.
Her breath hitched as heat rose to her head. She calmed this bloodlust, though, as Kestrel stood back up.
Kestrel had turned her back on her, and probably for a reason.
Aelrie laced up her boots, purposely lowering her head to the assassin, testing her just as she’d been tested.
Kestrel was patient and waited for her to finish.
They walked in silence as she followed Kestrel out of the room and down the corridor, but Kestrel paused at the stairs leading down.
“I want to trust you. Go to the sanctum to meet with Mistress Valeria. If you can complete this task on your own, then my trust in you is secure.”
Even after her resistance and attack on Kite and Kestrel herself, Kestrel wanted to make amends. Aelrie had no other options available to her now—there was no escaping the house as she did not know the spell of opening—so she nodded in soundless response.
Kestrel stepped aside to make room for her to pass so she could make her own way to the sanctum. It was a high level of trust, or a deadly test; either way, she remembered the way.
Once downstairs, she passed the familiar opulence of the main hall and grand staircase and turned down a hall to the left. Behind that was probably the kitchen, where she had first come into the house with the help of the orc.
Halfway down the hall, a figure dressed in black sauntered toward her. “Gave my sister a nasty scar. She won’t ever forget you now that she has to remember you every time she looks in the mirror and thinks of how you fucked Shikra, and she never will.”
It was him.
Fyn’s wrath was still evident on his face. Falco had a black eye, and his broken nose hadn’t healed well. She wasn’t going to help him with that either, even though her healing arts were rather good.
She pushed him against the wall, her arm against his chest, pinning him down. His hand tried to go for the dagger he had concealed in his leathers, but she grabbed it before he could get to it.
Falco was skinny and didn’t have much muscle on him, so it wasn’t hard to overpower him. She pressed her body weight against him and lowered the dagger to his crotch, and upon finding his cock, laid the blade flat against it.
He hardened, and she responded with a sneer of disgust. “Listen to me, little twit. You ever try that again and I’ll cut your skinny prick off; do you hear me?”
His hoarse laughter grated her ears.
Her eyes roamed his face—his bottom lip was pierced as was an eyebrow, and he wore a collar of spikes around his neck. Probably thought himself intimidating, but she saw him for what he truly was now, a scared little boy drunk off the tiniest bit of power his mistress allowed him to have .
She rammed her arm against his chest harder. “You’re a weakling, only finding courage when your opponent is tied up and helpless. But you get turned on when the blade is turned on you.”
Desire grew in his eyes, but he was either too demented or inexperienced to notice or try to hide it. The pervert was getting off on this.
Anyways, her point was clear: touch her again and she’d cut it off.
“I’m keeping this,” she said as she confiscated his dagger.
A final shove nearly sent him sprawling. She turned on her heel. Behind her, his raspy laughter slithered after her.
She entered the sanctum of her own accord this time and found Mistress Valeria waiting for her, dressed in a revealing dark grey robe to offset her pale gray skin.
A heavy necklace of dark amethysts draped down her neck and beautifully complemented her skin tone.
If Aelrie wasn’t where she was now and knew nothing of the mistress, she would think her a carefree noble from a powerful House, and not what she really was, a blood-soaked mistress at the heart of an empire of murder.
“The Wood Elf. Do you know why he died?” Valeria started walking in a circle around her.
She moved her head around to meet Mistress Valeria’s voice, trying to keep her emotions in check the best she could. “He had a love affair with a daughter from a wealthy family. Her father found out about it.”
Mistress Valeria, still walking, nodded her head. “Yes, that seems plausible, given the situation. But what if I told you the father had no idea of the affair, and it was the daughter herself who paid the gold for his assassination?”
Aelrie’s mouth sprang open. She’d forgotten not to show emotion in front of her enemy and promptly closed it, trying her best to appear unfazed. Her head followed Mistress Valeria as she continued her walk, turning her face to the right now as the mistress came up behind her.
“When Nymala Blackheart, third daughter of House Blackheart, heard of her arranged marriage to the first son of House Grimfire, she paid us handsomely for the murder of her lover.”
Her heart dropped at this revelation. How heartbreaking to hear. At least the Wood Elf went to his death thinking his love true, and did not know of this betrayal. That must have given him comfort in his final moments.
Mistress Valeria continued, “The chance to be wife of a first son instead of just a throwaway, third daughter, she embraced it. Her lover was a loose end that needed to be tied, tidied, and tucked away for good.”
If this was how it was, as there was no elf left to do so, she would feel his pain for him.
Because it was she who ended his life, even if the will to do so did not come from her.
And she would carry this pain and guilt for the rest of her life, stacked upon all the pain and grief she already carried for Lindana.
Mistress Valeria stopped walking circles around her and stood to face her front and center. “A lesson on life in the Evergloom. You’d do well to remember it. ”
Remembering this time to keep her emotions to herself, she clasped both hands behind her back and stood straight, staring at an invisible point ahead of her.
“Do not blame yourself for the Wood Elf’s death, Sparrowhawk.”
Her bottom lip dropped slightly into a frown. Ever subtle though it was, she hoped the mistress did not see, but nothing escaped her notice, like the birds of prey she named her assassins after.
“The king orders the execution of a criminal.” Mistress Valeria stared at her with a look of knowing smugness and superiority only found in one of her “noble” class.
She was treating her like a child, teaching her a lesson after misbehaving, even though she was an adult and knew how to form her own judgments.
“The executioner swings the axe that cuts off his head. Who is at fault for his death?” the mistress continued.
There was no correct answer to this, and Valeria Nightshade wasn’t looking for one from her either.
“Neither. The fault lies with the criminal.”
This was the great lesson the mistress was trying to teach her? She’d heard better reasoning from a goblin.
“And what fault did the Wood Elf have?” she shot back, unable to hold it in. “Falling in love with the wrong elf?”
And he only did that to bring himself happiness from his life of oppression.
“No, it was his fault. Blinded by love, he failed to realize one thing.”
“And what is that?” She had to ask.
“In the Evergloom, the House always wins.”
From her time in the Evergloom, she had already figured this out. But her conscience told her otherwise, and she knew better than to believe the mistress that this was something she had to accept.
Might did not make right.
Lindana was not at fault for her own murder.
She was innocent, like the Wood Elf. The blame lay with whoever made the decision to end their lives, and it wasn’t because of their misfortunes that placed them beneath another or made them an obstacle, merely a hindrance to snuff out, as if life were frivolous, a commodity, and not precious or worthy of being given its due sanctity.
Mistress Valeria gave her a disapproving glare as if she could read her thoughts and saw disbelief in them.
Her tone turned prideful. “We do not serve common rabble or slaves. You cannot buy our services for cheap from any back-alley cutthroat. Be proud. You now serve the great Houses, powerful males and females. The elite. You are part of House Nightshade, the most honored House of assassins in all of Yggdrasil. We serve Dark Elf, Wood Elf, and even Light Elf nobles alike.”
Disgusted by what she’d heard, she glared at the mistress, but Valeria did not relinquish her stare either.
“You have a connection with Shikra,” Mistress Valeria then said, her gaze unflinching.
Aelrie inhaled deeply. Mistress Valeria already knew this from Falco’s interrogation, no doubt, that she and Fyn were lovers, and everyone witnessed his explosion of anger in this same chamber yesterday when she was brought in as a “surprise” for him.
Had that been a test of loyalty for Fyn? The way he acted, almost killing Falco, had the mistress not stopped him, meant he’d failed that test.
“He means nothing to me. A means to an end is all.”
Mistress Valeria gave her a sideways glance along with the shadow of a smile.
“Shikra is in the dungeon. You remember that place, don’t you? Go and bring him to me. I will teach you the spell of opening.”