I stalk through the halls of the elegant manor home, my bloodied dark boots clacking loudly on the smooth marble floor, black cloak whispering behind me.
I ignore the stares and the whispers as people turn to watch me stride by. I've had a fan club for a while and I've gotten used to it. Being the Master's favourite with the best blades and clothes money can buy does put a large target on my back. Anyone else would be both excited and terrified to be in my position - every other person here is a highly trained assassin, after all. They're experts at killing. But I am almost the best - second only to my master whose exact level of skill is unknown. Not to mention my power.
The threat of that at least is stopping them from sneaking into my room and killing me in my sleep. Or maybe they're plotting to take me down some other way with less blood spilled.
I reach the end of the hall and two massive intricately carved mahogany doors greet me. Dragons, griffins and phoenixes curl around the top half while sea monsters lie waiting in the bottom part. It always takes my breath away. The beauty, the grandeur, the life-like details... It's as if the creatures were alive once before they were sealed in wood. It's a clear show of wealth and power, designed to intimidate, to strike fear into the hearts of any who saw it.
The doors aren't just here to boast. They also represent the Master's traits. Brute power for the dragons and griffins, endless patience and a plotting mind for the sea monsters. Phoenixes typically represent rebirth, but here it is a promise that if any tried to kill the Master, he would come back alive and well after they thought he was dead.
I push open the double doors and enter the study. At first glance it is another flaunt of wealth with its chandelier, mahogany desk that dominates the room, plush colourful rugs from far-off places and what seems like thousands of books, all containing priceless information. If one took a closer look, the more practical, dangerous side could be seen. The secret weapons cleverly disguised as common items. The practicality of the room, even with all the embellishments. The danger of the man sitting behind the desk.
"Come, Nyx," he says in a smooth, cultured voice, gesturing to the velvet cushioned chair opposite him. "I've been expecting you."
I'm not surprised. Even without a letter sent forward that I've assassinated the target, he always knows when I return. Even after five years, it's still unsettling. And he knows it.
I move to the chair and sit down, keeping my face a blank mask, erasing any and all hints of emotion from my expression. Emotion is only another weapon to be used against me, one that can do more damage than steel. Better to keep that one out of my Master's, even if I know he wouldn't want to see his perfect killing machine broken beyond repair.
"The promised money?" I keep my voice cool and calm and go straight to the point. Even though I respect him more than anyone else, I don't want to remain in his company for more time than necessary. He has a way of twisting words and emotions, making them into knives that cut deep. Words have never been my strong suit; I read more from actions about one's intentions. In these situations, I have the higher ground.
He smiles at me, reaches under his desk and procures an innocuous, drab bag. It clinks as he sets it between us.
"Your one thousand gold royals."
I don't take my eyes off him for a single moment as I reach out and grab it, only glancing at the contents for a moment to ensure that it is genuine and the correct amount.
I stand and move backwards to the door, fingers feeling for the polished wooden handle. I keep my gaze set on him, noting every twitch, every breath.
"I'm not finished." My heartbeat quickens. He knows. He's noticed I don't trust him and his words. He knows I fear what he could twist me into with a few sentences.
The mask slips. It's a mistake I haven't made in years. By the way the lethal man behind the desk straightens slightly, I know he's seen it. He's seen the scared girl, the weak, vulnerable girl I've tried so hard to hide. The person inside with too many secrets, dangerous secrets, any one of which could have the executioner's axe swinging towards my head. I pull the mask up again before he gleans those secrets, before his gaze shreds through my bare soul.
I've already given my inner fear to him to use however he wishes against me. I'm not going to sharpen my blade for him.
"You have another job."
He's smiling again, but this one seems both more real and more vicious.
I keep both my gaze and my voice cold enough to freeze fire, yet nonchalant, uncaring. "Who do I have to kill this time?"
"No one."
I keep my expression carefully composed, but inside I am a raging turmoil of questions. What? Did I hear his correctly? I am an assassin. I kill people for a living and because I'm good at it. What other jobs could I do that don't involve someone's death? Why would I be asked to do jobs that don't involve killing? What's he playing at?
He continues, seemingly slightly admirable and irritated at my lack of visible reaction. "You are to protect from harm and prevent any assassinations on the customer."
Preventing assassinations. Protecting someone. Again, I am an assassin. Not some bodyguard.
"Who will I be protecting?" The question is empty. I don't really expect a name yet. The people who hire us don't show their faces and remain completely anonymous.
So I am surprised when he answers.
"King Victor Lightbringer."
I stare at my Master expectantly, waiting for him to chuckle and say that he's just pulling my leg and it's actually some minor lord or lady. He doesn't. Finally, it dawns on me. He's not joking. He's serious. What the hell is going on here?
It's an unspoken law around here never to ask for details about why the target needs to die and what they did. But this is more than a simple killing. So for the first time, I ignore it.
"Explain." I don't bother phrasing it as a request. I make the single word a demand, an order.
He glances up at me, giving me a warning look. I swear I can see an undercurrent of interest, like he wants to see what I'll do next. I meet his gaze calmly. I'm not going to back down. Not today.
He waits a few seconds for my expected apology, but I don't give him any. A hint of something like respect flashes in his eyes, gone before I can truly tell if that is what I saw.
"There have been rumours," he begins, "ones of rival assassins that work under someone knows only as the Killer."
I snort, letting some amusement and derision show. "Not a very creative name. How does he have anything to do with our esteemed king?"
"Originally, nothing. But recently some in our own ranks have gone AWOL and I fear they are defecting to this Killer. None of them have particularly supported our king in the past or now. If they are working to kill him..." He shakes his head. "The king turns a blind eye in our direction so long as we don't target him or his family. If this Killer assassinates him, that deal is off and we'll all be headed for the chopping block in the days after he is replaced."
I mull over his words. This is interesting. A new band of assassins in town that's been recruiting some of our own. They must truly rival our own network if he's this worried.
"What does this Killer stand for? Is he working in cahoots with someone that would find this advantageous or is it for some sort of revenge plot?"
"I'd assume he's working for one of his two sons who are next in line for the throne."
"The king has an entire army at his beck and call. Aren't they enough to keep out one assassin?" I ask archly. If the king can't keep one person out, what does that say for the competence of thousands of soldiers and the people who hire them?
"You're just a last resort in case all those soldiers fail at their duty. Plus, you'd smell an assassination plot from miles off. Also it's good money."
That piques my interest. "How much?"
"A hundred thousand gold royals."
I gape at the amount. "He's willing to pay that much?"
"Fifteen thousand was the starting price, bit I convinced him of how much his life is worth. I graciously accepted the hundred thousand he offered after that."
A hundred thousand gold royals. I still can't wrap my head around the sum of money. How many books could I buy? How much chocolate? I can already imagine the heavenly taste of chocolate and the rasp of paper between my fingers.
"Who and what am I pretending to be?"
"A Lady Lorana Rivermeet. As for the role, you're going to be his lover."
His answer snaps me out of my daze.
"His lover?! Really? That's what you could think of?"
He shrugs eloquently, waving off my accusatory stare. "It was either that or personal whore and somehow the second option seemed less likely to work. It is a court of men, after all."
"And you didn't think of personal guard?"
"A mere personal guard wouldn't be allowed to enter his suite without a specific reason. Pretending to be his lover seemed the most practical way for you to remain with him so you can complete the job."
I don't like it, but he's right. But there must be some other role I could play...
I open my mouth to protest.
"Do you want the money or not? Because anyone can be replaced," he snarls. He's had enough of my questioning.
That stops me cold. Anyone can be replaced. Is he threatening me?
"Do you want the job, Nyx?"
I nod. "I'll take it."
He leans back in his chair, all pleasant smiles. "Good. Clean up and get changed into your dress. You leave in an hour."