Chapter 7 River
River
River moved fast, but the Deathrose Guild moved faster.
She’d secretly boarded this disgrace of a ship—a gigantic abomination that housed more amenities in one single place than
she’d experienced in her entire lifetime—to trail Galwell, find something that merited his assassination, and then complete
the task.
Following him down countless corridors as he took himself to his stowaway chambers, she’d seen nothing suspicious from him.
In fact, he’d been comically good. Dressed in a poor excuse for a disguise, he’d passed an old woman struggling to carry her
luggage and wordlessly hoisted it over his shoulder to bring to her room. He’d spotted a large spill and used his own cloak
to mop it up.
Perhaps the guild didn’t yet know River had failed, she’d thought. Because for all the ways Galwell thought he was being discreet,
he may as well have painted an actual target on the back of his absurdly large shoulders. Even with the disguise—which amounted
to nothing more than a cap pulled over his long curls and an unusually cumbersome cloak—and the cabin tucked deep inside the
ship, anyone he passed on his way into hiding could confirm he was alive and well, including the young child he’d scooped
up and dropped off near her parents after she’d gotten lost.
But the Deathrose Guild was already one step ahead of her and Galwell both. They’d sent Dougal, one of the guild’s most esteemed assassins, to finish River’s job. River had spotted him in his captain disguise, hurrying in the same direction as Galwell’s cabin.
Hearing commotion below, and not wanting Galwell to die before she figured out why he’d been targeted in the first place,
River teleported herself to where Dougal was. She’d expected a rational conversation would take place, where she could explain
what went wrong earlier in the week and all the steps she was currently taking to resolve it. Maybe Dougal would even be impressed
by River’s initiative.
Instead, River landed atop Dougal in the small crew cabin where Galwell had set up camp. Literally atop him, her legs straddled
around Dougal’s shoulders as he swung a long knife with reckless abandon.
“What are you doing? Stop at once!” a woman shouted.
River nearly lost her focus. Queen Thessia was in the cabin, too, backed into a corner, mouth agape in horror. Not only was
Dougal attempting to kill Galwell, but he was doing it in front of the queen of Mythria.
“River! Get off me!” Dougal yelled, spinning so as to dislodge her. She wanted to ask how he knew who’d landed atop him, but
appearing unexpectedly inside a room from some place other than the door was a rather unforgettable skill.
To keep her purchase, River gripped what little remained of Dougal’s hair. “Hold on! Let’s talk about this!”
“There is nothing to discuss! Let go of my hair!”
River knew she needed to respect Dougal’s request. He outranked her in every way—the kind of member who might even be able
to restore her sullied position within the guild. But he was being so . . . unwieldy. Sometimes assignments took place in
public, but the assassin was required to remain unidentifiable to any innocent witnesses. Queen Thessia could have counted
Dougal’s nose hairs, she was getting such a good, unobscured look at him.
“Stop at once!” Galwell boomed. “State your intentions!”
River didn’t know if the prompt was for her or Dougal.
Galwell’s voice made both of them pause anyway.
She hated to say it, but up close, Galwell really did have an energy about him.
As if at any given moment, he needed to have wind blowing through his hair, an artful rip in his tunic, and sweeping, orchestral music to score his actions.
If only Celine could see this . . . River thought as Galwell stepped protectively in front of Thessia. The gossip pamphlets would be fed for months.
She shook her head. Enough thinking about Celine.
“I’m here to kill you,” Dougal told him. “Since she failed to get the job done.”
At that, Dougal whipped sideways as hard as he could, flinging a distracted River off his shoulders. The cabin was so small
that she clunked her skull against the bunk bed on the way to the floor.
River scrambled to her feet, dizzy but determined. “You cannot kill Galwell in front of our queen.” She dug her fingernails
into Dougal’s forearm to stop him from wielding his knife. He’d taken a reckless swipe that had nicked Queen Thessia on the
arm. River turned as much as she could, keeping pressure on Dougal as she attempted to curtsy. “Your Majesty.”
“That’s really not necessary right now,” Queen Thessia told her. “But I do command that Captain Norcross state why he is attempting
to kill Galwell at all.”
“We are on water,” he said. “You do not govern me here.”
“And when we reach land, what do you expect will happen then?” the queen asked.
“I won’t be here to find out. And neither will you.”
Perhaps the guild’s code did not matter to Dougal on water. But it mattered to River everywhere. So she did the only thing
she could think of to stop him.
She kneed Dougal in the groin.
He doubled over, and River bent down to meet him, hissing out, “What are you thinking? Innocent witnesses aren’t meant to be collateral damage. It’s a part of our honor code.”
“Forget the honor code,” he told her, face purpled in agony.
The guild also forbade members from killing each other without just cause, which was the only reason River did not take Dougal’s knife and
plunge it into his heart right then and there. Because how dare he say such a thing when he’d been in the guild for as long
as River had been alive?
She settled for ripping the knife from his hand and placing a boot on his neck. She needed time to think.
Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. The code was life. No member of the Deathrose Guild would ever wish to do away with
it.
“I know I’m not the first person you’d want to do a favor for,” River said, looking to Galwell, chancing a half-grin his way.
“But could I trouble you to grab that rope behind you, so I can tie him up?”
Galwell nodded. “Of course. I’m happy to do the tying, if that’s easier.”
“Galwell,” Queen Thessia warned. “She’s an assassin, too. What if this is all part of an elaborate plot between the two of them?”
“It’s not,” River and Galwell said in unison.
Ghosts. Even his faith in her was good.
“Prove it,” Queen Thessia challenged.
River had to take a risk. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
“This is not Captain Norcross,” she said. “This is Dougal Farkenstomp, supposedly esteemed member of the Deathrose Guild.
A man who should know that the guild forbids him from completing an assignment when a witness can plainly identify his face
or share his real name. And a man who certainly knows he cannot kill the queen of Mythria.”
She’d never betrayed another guild member before.
It would be yet another offense in the eyes of the guild—but what was one more infraction on top of her already growing list?
Surely if she got the chance to plead her case to whoever it was at the very top of the guild—a name no one at River’s level was allowed to learn, for purposes of safety—she’d explain all the rules Dougal himself had broken first, and everyone would understand.
Assassins—notoriously understanding!
River kept her foot on the side of Dougal’s neck as Galwell secured the rope around the man’s hands and feet. Once done, they
propped him up in a seated position, his back resting against the wall behind the door. Looking at him—a man who up until
three minutes ago River had thought she someday wanted to be—disgust overwhelmed her.
Why would he do this?
“Who gave you this assignment?” River asked. There was no use in skirting around it in front of Galwell and Queen Thessia.
They’d already heard too much anyway.
Dougal said nothing.
“You’re really embracing the protection of water,” she continued. “But we will reach land soon enough. And you will have to
come clean then. The Deathrose Guild doesn’t operate in Vestriya as it is. Both of us will need to stop.”
He almost smiled as he said, “And who will captain the ship in my absence?”
“Even I know that your position on the Sapphire Palace is mostly for appearances,” Queen Thessia interjected. “There are hand magicians here who have spent their whole lives on
water. We will be fine.”
“And what is your position on the ship, exactly?” Dougal asked. “Shouldn’t you be bedding your new husband instead of stowing yourself away
in the quarters of your ex-lover?”
River couldn’t help but notice hurt on Thessia’s face as the queen said, “You were so kind to me earlier.”
“All a part of the job,” Dougal told her coldly.
“You know that the penalty for breaking the code more than once is death.” River pointed Dougal’s knife at his chest. Finally,
she saw something other than mockery on his face. He feared her.
As he should.
She did not plan to kill him. Not yet, at least. She only wanted to give him a good scare, in case that rattled out a piece
of real information. But something stopped her.
Someone, more accurately. Galwell the Great used his hand magic strength to prevent River from hurting the very man who had come
here to kill him.
“We don’t know enough about his heart,” Galwell said, snatching the spine of the knife out of River’s hands and sheathing
the blade. “What if he’s driven by desperate financial circumstances?”
“Yes!” Dougal cried out. “What do you know about me beyond my name and job? That cannot possibly be all that defines a life!”
“Exactly,” Galwell said. “Perhaps he’s never known true companionship or joy.”
“Never,” Dougal agreed. “Oh, how I’ve yearned to be seen for who I really am!”
“Please. His job is to be whoever you need him to be,” River said. She almost rolled her eyes, but she didn’t want to insult
Galwell too much. “You could suggest that Dougal might accidentally empty his bowels forty times a day, and he would agree