Britannia 1892

I fidget in bed, intertwining my fingers through the lace of my nightgown. Rain bombarded the window with the ferocity of a siege. Not that I've had to endure one, thank god.

Pulling my cloak tighter, I watch my breath dissipate in the late autumn air. This dreary downpour was a perfect partner to the foreboding ill in my stomach. My eyes drift towards the doors of my chambers.

The night eerily quiet.

Sucking in a breath, I prattle into the hall. There were no guards or maids. That was unthinkable. This was the King's and, by extension, my chambers. Such was my right as his wife.

Clutching the clasp of my cloak, I tiptoe down the hall, silent as a church mouse. The hall cold and empty. At the balcony I look over the wide open room below, also deserted. Fear gripped my heart as I made for the stairs. Perhaps I could slip away?

"Ah, my dear Queen Kathrine, what are you doing? You should be asleep!" The boisterous, proud voice of my brother-in-law, Duke Richard Vermilion, shouted from below. He smiled like it was any other night.

I brush a stray blonde hair behind my ear to touch up my appearance. My gaze fixed on Richard's pistol and rapier. Two items I never held much fear of until tonight.

"I'm merely searching for dear Robert, Richard. His queen is lonely, and the night is cold."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure. It is a frightening frosty night and this storm… I've seen none like it for many years. I'm sure the fair Queen is frightened, no?"

"I am not afraid of storms, merely chilled. The embrace of my king would surely solve the problem. Tell me, where is Robert tonight?"

Richard smiled, waving his hand dismissively. "Busy, I'm afraid. He's in enamored with the latest Tinker invention. The Telephone I believe it's called. Now off to bed. My brother will join you before dawn."

I feared what may happen should I dare to tread further. Thus, I curtseyed as expected of me and ascended the stairs. Robert watched me hawkishly the entire way.

What little hope budded in my chest wilted. I slammed the door, hot bitter tears rolling down my cheeks. Normally, such emotions would have to be locked away, but what did it matter tonight?

My last night?

Yes, my last night.

How did I know? I heard so from my husband's own lips.

Sinking against the thick oak doors. I recalled the conversation I overheard while masquerading as a maid. A childish hobby I kept alive even after leaving my home in Gaul and marrying into Britannia's royal family.

It wasn't proper behavior befitting a queen, but I enjoyed mingling among the servants for gossip. I'd dyed my hair with ash and stolen a uniform from my maid's closet. Today, I plotted to surprise Robert by serving him his tea. I arrived in the room where his meeting was held and laid everything out with the other girls. When an even more devious idea sprang to mind.

The meeting was between Robert and Richard, my brother-in-law, and thus it was most likely a casual affair between brothers. After the tea was set and the room cleared, I snuck into the cabinet beside the bookshelf.

It was a rather tall cabinet, so I could stand while hidden among its contents. Mostly spare cloaks and coats. Robert was to go riding after this, so he would most likely come for his riding coat. There I would surprise him with a flash to tease him.

I hadn't had to wait long. Robert and Richard entered and cleared the room. No one noticed me sneaking away. The guards lax in their search and the maids were too busy to notice one of their number disappearing.

What I thought would be a relaxed conversation between brothers turned out to be something much more sinister.

"It's been five years brother, it's time to admit the truth. Your wife will bear you no heir." Richard said curtly, sipping his tea.

"I love her brother. You cannot ask me to divorce her." Robert woefully replied. It touched my heart to hear those words, but I took offence to being declared barren! My family is known for a very stout constitution.

Richard coughed, "Nor can I. Divorce would null our treaty with Gaul. We cannot avoid losing our closest ally. Nor can we risk war with them for breaking the treaty. I have already offered you my first solution."

"I will not take on a mistress!" Robert rebuked. It wasn't often I heard Robert raise his voice. It made me happy that he was so loyal, but my stomach churned, wondering what Richard was plotting.

"Then there is my second proposal." Richard said, sliding a piece of parchment across the exquisitely carved desk. Robert read the note and slammed his fist against the table.

"Richard, you can't be serious!"

"It is the only way, my brother. To preserve the treaty and free you from your godly vows, it is the only way." Richard stated coldly, seemingly unperturbed by his brother and King's outburst. "I have already contacted a member of the Devil's hand guild. He will be here tonight."

"Richard! An Assassin! This is a poor jest!" Robert bellowed, crumbling the note in his hand. I too was taken with rage, but held my words.

"It is no jest, my brother," Richard retorted. "I am merely looking out for what's best for the country. You need an heir, and we need to keep our ties with Gaul. The treaty will be strained, but intact, if Kathrine falls to an assassin."

Robert laid his head in his hands. His eyes filled with doubt and fear. I wanted to go out to him, but fear stopped me. What if they killed me? No, what if Richard shot before I explained? I'm in disguise. Richard could accuse me of being a spy and kill me before questions could be asked. When they discover the truth, it would be too late. My family would believe the story. I held my breath, waiting for Robert's reply.

"I understand as a husband, choices such as these weigh heavily on you, my brother, but as a King it should be a simple choice." Richard said, walking over to the window. "If you wish to stop the assassination, simply go to your chambers tonight. My instructions to the Assassin were if only one person was in the room, he was to proceed. If there are two, he was to abandon the request."

"Does this Assassin even know who he's killing?" Robert asked.

"No," Replied Robert. "He only knows where his target is located. I've arranged for all guards and maids to steer clear of the royal chambers. I'll make sure nobody interferes, and the plan goes smoothly. Of course, if you do not wish to proceed, merely go to your chambers tonight."

The room was silent. I could hear my heartbeat waiting for Robert's reply. "When is the deadline to choose?" Robert asked solemnly.

"Midnight, tonight. I hope you choose wisely, brother."

Now one would assume I would fear for my life. I did. But in disguise, I dared not exit my hiding place until it was safe. Thankfully, Robert chose to not go riding and left the room, Richard following him. Giving me the chance to escape.

I had little time to plan a counter offense or escape. I originally intended to hideaway as a maid until I could catch Robert in private, but the sudden storm removed my disguise while walking the gardens and by that time my guards and maids caught up to me.

I was given a bath, changed and sent to my chambers for fears of catching a fever. It was as if I was being escorted to the gallows by the world's cheeriest executioners. On the edge of my gaze, I saw Richard's men nearby. No doubt to ensure I was where he wanted me.

Yes, I was powerless to stop what was to come. And I had attempted to run, but I saw the guards around the pillars and lost my nerve. With Richard himself present, I held no doubts he would give the order of my execution if I made any attempt to escape.

My hope relied on Robert coming… but…

"Ten minutes to midnight…."

He wasn't coming. Richard assured me as much. I wonder if he took pleasure in forcing me to wait for my killer to come.

The clock above the fireplace moved its hand closer to my fated death. I hugged my knees, praying Robert was on his way. That he was sprinting to save me. But as another minute ticked by to my last. I stood and wiped my tears.

"I might as well not make it easy for them!"

With the fire of defiance burning inside me, I set forth to first secure a weapon. There was scant to pick from and no places to hide. The room was rather bare.

"The dresser?" I opened my wardrobe. It contained all my outfits for every occasion, so it was more of a walk-in closet. I never had to look inside it myself, but it was spacious.

But was there a no more obvious place? I might as well hide under the bed like a scared child. Looking at my bed, I was inspired by a prank my brother once pulled on the head maid.

I gathered up a bountiful amount of garments and stuffed them under my sheets, arranging them in a vaguely human shape.

"Weapon, I need a weapon." There wasn't even a decorative sword or spear present. Even if its function as a weapon was questionable. It was better than my dainty fists.

I examine the poles of my bed, wondering if I could fashion a club, when I spied the fire poker. I took up the iron rod, testing its weight and practicing a few thrusts. It was far heavier than the thin rapier I practiced in my adolescence, but it would do.

With my weapon in hand, I slipped into the closet. Positioning myself in a clumsy thrusting stance, my elbow touching the back wall of the closet. There was barely enough room now, but it would do. I shut the door, safe for a small crack to spy from.

I should have prepared a gun. Was a stray thought that popped into my head, but I quickly realized it would have been fruitless. Where would I have found a gun? Sure, there was an armory in the castle, and all the guards carried pistols, but I was not an adept thief that could slip one away from the armorer or guard.

Even if I'd got one, I didn't know how to use it. And if I brandished it while in disguise, I could have gotten killed, anyway.

The clock struck midnight. There was a heavy thunk at the door. More than likely, Richard or one of his cronies sealed it shut.

A chill filled the room, my window opened, and the candles blew out. Leaving only the glow of the fireplace. I stiffen, tightening my grip on the handle of the fire poker. My killer had arrived.

Despite my fear, I couldn't help but be amazed that my killer reached the fourth floor of the castle undetected, despite Richard's involvement. Even if he pulled my guards, he would never leave the outer defenses vulnerable. I find it hard to believe he would raise suspicions by inviting the assassin through the front door.

In my musings, the assassin soundlessly dropped to the floor. Raindrops fell from his cloak, dampening the wood, yet even those seemed silent. He panned the room looking for me.

I wondered what tool he would use for my demise. It mattered not, but I found the question morbidly fascinating as I waited for him to approach my hastily deployed decoy. I hoped to catch the back of his skull with the poker and go from there.

However, he didn't bother with the bed, instead coming straight for me!

In the glow of the flickering fireplace, I could barely make out his dark visage. The high collar of his cloak hid the lower portion of his face and tattered cloth was wrapped around his eyes.

Is he… blind? I thought, readying for my one and only chance to attack.

A glint of metal flashed as he revealed the tool of his trade. It wasn't a dagger or something you'd expect an assassin to carry, but a leather gauntlet with sharp metal talons riveted to the glove, resembling an eagle's claw about to capture its prey. There was even fresh blood dripping from the metal appendages.

The assassin pulled back his arm to strike, and I crouched as much as I could, ready to spring the moment the door opened.

The wood creaked, and I leaped with my full weight! My fencing teacher would have been proud of my form. I aimed right at his heart. Yet it wasn't enough. Despite my surprise attack, the weight of my weapon threw off my balance and slowed me down. The assassin deftly slapped my miserable attack aside.

I threw myself to the left, the steel nails raking my shoulder, caused me to scream. I hit the hardwood floor and rolled, springing back up with my fists raised. I've not participated in fisticuffs since striking my older brother for stealing my doll.

Naturally, I was out of practice, so my strikes were clumsy and weak. Having my attacks slapped aside hurt, not just emotionally, but physically, because my opponent had knives for bloody fingers!

"You bloody badger!" I hissed, clutching my hand. There was no point in being silent anymore. I might as well die screaming. "To proud to fight a woman seriously. You're here to kill me, aren't you? So, kill me!"

I'm not sure why I was egging him on, maybe because I was scared and frustrated. My legs were trembling, pathetic, but I was still standing.

The Assassin let out a deep sigh, as if he had any reason to be exacerbated. And then suddenly I was on the floor, my stomach in pain. That bastard punched me!

I don't know if I should be happy he didn't punch me in the face, because from the way my stomach was feeling, it wouldn't have been pleasant. While wondering if he planned to torture me for amusement, he tied my hands to the foot of my bed with an almost invisible wire.

"Don't struggle, or it'll cut your hands clean off," the assassin told me dejectedly. Mumbling, "What a mess." Under his breath. Swearing something about Does and other nonsense I couldn't comprehend over the pounding of my heart.

The assassin removed his hat. I'd not noticed it before as it let free a messy mop of dark hair. It was tough to see in the dim light, but it might have been red. After that, he removed his blindfold, showing off a pair of dull blue eyes, almost grey, with a strange red tint that slowly vanished from his irises.

From his pouch, he tossed a mysterious bag into the fire, making it flare up with a brilliant blue tint that brightened the room to almost daylight. He inspected my face, gently moving my head with his sharp talons. Upon seeing the blood coming from my shoulder, he, much to my shock, bandaged it.

I couldn't find any words to say, and was too afraid to say anything, so I let him do his work. Keeping my thoughts to myself until he dressed my wounds and stood. Content to leave me as I was.

I was partly naked in a torn nightgown covered in blood. Not the most ideal position to be in, though I was still alive, so that was something. I might as well be a hare in a trap, and it was rather embarrassing. I'm not sure which I cared most about right now, but I was angry either way.

"Hey!" Maybe I was being stupid. I mean, my killer was literally walking away, but I was smart enough to know this wouldn't be the end. "I'm sure Richard will only send another assassin, or plot something else. Sparing me doesn't save my life."

"I don't kill Doe."

"Doe? Am I wild game to you?" I asked, appalled by the idea, yet this was a man who killed for his daily bread. Applying civilized logic might be mute. "Is this some sort of twisted chivalry? Or am I not enough sport?"

The assassin plopped down beside me. I tried to kick him, but he swatted my awkward attack away. He was strangely docile about me. I tried again, but found he wrapped more of that invisible wire around my legs. Ceasing my struggles.

"You are a strange woman," He said after an awkward pause. His smile was strangely warm for a killer, though his canines seemed much larger than average. It wouldn't surprise me if he was part beast or something.

"Am I any stranger than an assassin that doesn't kill? Not that it matters, as I already said. Sparing my life doesn't matter. Richard will send more or scheme something else, and since it seems he has my husband's consent, my life is over. Or will you protect me for the rest of my days?"

He hummed, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. Somehow managing to not cut himself on those nasty talons of his. "That would be troublesome. Do you have the funds to afford that?"

"You're sounding more like a mercenary than an assassin. How much was my life worth ending? Just out of curiosity?" I mean, wouldn't anyone want to know how much they were worth killing for? If they were being paid to be killed, that is. "So?" I egg on. "How much did Richard pay?"

"Hmm, in your currency… including the guild fee and my commission… roughly a hundred."

"A hundred? A hundred what?"

"Pounds of Sterling Silver," my luxurious Assassin told me with a mocking smile. "$25,603. Does that make you feel better?"

With a bit of pride swelling in my bountiful chest, I tried to look posed while lying flat on the ground, tied to a bedpost. "Well, at least I wasn't cheap. Nor should I be. Killing a Queen should be quite the investment."

"Queen, huh? I assumed you were a concubine that became inconvenient."

We were having a conversation, how bizarre. Being called a concubine was a little insulting, but actually… "How do you not know who you are killing? If I may ask? I'd think killing a Queen or any royalty would be a big deal."

"It's not, I've killed… so many over the past few days, Lords, Earls, Barons, even a Duke…" His eyes fluttered, and I noticed how exhausted this man was. Haggard was perhaps the best description. "I just wanted to… forget… to get away. Stay busy, I guess…"

I blinked. He didn't, did he? "Hey!" I shouted subdued, uncertain how loud I should be, but I was taken aback! He was asleep!

"What in God's name…" So, what now? What should I do? I didn't know when Richard would come to check on my demise. I craned my neck towards the clock but couldn't see it. That much time hasn't passed, has it? Maybe it was fifteen after midnight or so. I assume I have between now and morning.

I didn't want to be tied to the floor when that happened.

"HEY!" I dared to shout. The Assassin's eyes cracked open, so that was a start. "How much would it cost for you to protect me?"

"That's too much of a hassle."

"Then why bother sparing me? If there is any humanity inside you, follow through with your mercy." The conflict in his eyes told the truth. He wanted to help me, but wasn't willing to commit his life to me. That was understandable. He'd be protecting me for the rest of my life as things stood. "Let's take a step back. I'm Queen Katharine Marie Vermillion. What is your name, assassin?"

"Do you really expect me to give you my name?"

I threw my hands up. "Well, I'm in danger of dying. Does it even matter? You could stand to be polite to a woman facing the gallows."

"You'd be beheaded in your home country. I frankly find that sort of execution barbaric, removing one's head, how disrespectful." He said, freeing my hands.

"Oh, and what form of execution do you prefer?" How did we get to this topic? And why was I so interested? It's not like you get to choose your death, at least not usually. Still, as I rub my neck, imagining the grisly blade of the guillotine falling and dropping my head into a basket. I can't help but feel… disturbed by the image.

And it was supposed to be a humane execution at the time of development.

"I'd prefer to be shot in the side of the head." My assassin demonstrated the action with his hand, pressing a steel tipped finger above his ear. "The side of one's skull is thinner than the front, making the chance of deflection virtually nonexistent and if you use a hollow point, the bullet will expand, shredding your brain matter. It's simple, and quick."

"How is that better than getting one's head chopped off?"

"At least it's not being used as a child's kickball or played with by some corpse loving freak."

I didn't have much of a retort to that. My skin crawled at the thought of touching a dead body, let alone handling it for prolonged periods of time. Still, my mind was morbidly invested in the subject.

"Why not the heart? Wouldn't that kill you just as fast?"

My assassin waved his hand in disgust. "Not good enough. I've seen plenty of people survive getting shot in the heart. At least long enough to be troublesome. A doctor friend of mine told me a human could function for two to three minutes, if not longer, for a more willful individual. They will die, that's a given, but they struggle and try to exact revenge."

"Sounds like you have personal experience with that."

"From my younger days, yes."

I reached out, moving his long locks to see his face more clearly. He allowed me to was perhaps the more accurate assessment. It's not like I could see his entire face, anyway. The collar of his cloak hid the lower half, but I could see his hair in full.

It was long, reaching the base of his neck, and wavey.

My assassin was indeed young. I wouldn't be surprised if he told me he was five years my junior. Putting his quote 'younger days' in his teens. He's hardly over twenty.

"What put you on such a path?"

"Must you debate my life choices?"

"Are you going to kill me?"

"I think it's clear I am not."

"Then you'll have to indulge me until you change your mind or leave and let my brother-in-law silence me."

He looked stumped at my comment. I could see his eyes harden in deep thought. What was he thinking, I wonder? I should probably careless about what he's plotting and figure out what I'm going to do.

As it stands, Richard will have me killed. Robert will be of little help… no, wait, I'm looking at this all wrong.

"Tell me, Mr. Assassin, if my husband were to have been in the room with me, what would you have done?"

"I'd assume he was the target and killed him. My broker knows I don't hunt Doe."

"There you are on about that again; do you see your fellow man as sport to hunt and mount on the wall?"

"Yes, I'd thought a King of a Major country would be good prey, a challenge, but it was so easy to get in here I started to suspect it was a trap by a rival. Now I'm just disappointed. This was hardly a distraction."

The killer was obviously deranged, noted. That said, deducting Richard's plot was blatantly obvious. My brother-in-law wanted the throne. Hard to imagine, I know, but it made sense. With no heirs, if Robert were to die, Richard would take the throne. Obviously, he could marry me or have me killed with Robert. He clearly didn't care either way.

That irked me.

Being a pawn in someone's dreadful schemes. I've been too blessed being in a marriage that, while not of my own choosing, was enjoyable. Until now. Robert hadn't come to defend me. Even if I make to the morning, I don't think I could ever see him in the same light.

So, what cards do I have to play? Or maybe chess was the more apt anagram? Whatever, I needed to get myself out of this alive somehow.

What did I have? I had no weapons, allies, or supporters. I was the Queen, but I wasn't well loved. I was from a long-hated rival nation. My marriage was supposed to repair Britannia's and Gaul's strained relations.

In my five years here, I've yet to cultivate support among the Britannian noble ladies. Not through a lack of trying, but my efforts have born no fruit thanks to multiple factors. Being foreign, from a hated rival, and having no heirs hammered home how easily dug my grave was.

What did I have?

If I could get a message home or get home, my family would surely shelter me. They'd marry me off again. The problem is, if I am found barren. I'm certain I'm not, but even rumors and my age would harm my prospects. My father might not even see it worthwhile to save me. I had over five brothers and three other sisters. Not to mention my father's mistresses' children.

No, it would be foolish to count on my father. My mother might help, but that depended if she could get in father's ear. I was the eldest of my sisters and my brothers and I were raised separate after age ten. Our bonds weren't tight enough for them to risk their positions to help me.

I'm coming up short here.

I looked at the man who was supposed to kill me. Could I use him? Did I dare to? What could I even offer him? He didn't seem to care about money. Clearly. He was paid to kill me and a King's ransom at that. Yet he hadn't.

Something else drove this man. I had to find out what.

"Mr. Assassin," I arch my back slightly, pronouncing my chest, and slipped the straps of my nightgown off my shoulders. "What would you say to a bet?"

"A bet?" He replied skeptically.

"Yes, a bet. My brother-in-Law, Richard, claims I'm barren, that I will produce no heir for my husband. He clearly intended to kill us both and perhaps acquire one of my sisters or some other well-bred woman with connections and take the throne. Sparing me won't save me. I've lost all trust in my husband, so what could be the one way out for me? Well, if I produce an heir…"

"That's only a stopgap. You'd be better off paying me to kill your husband and your brother-in-law and take over as regent. Marry one of their cousins or some upper noble."

I thought he'd be inept at political strategy, but that was a reasonable proposal. If one didn't care about the opinion of the populace and ruling class.

"If I had the funds to pay you, I'd agree, but I'm not very popular with the peasants or the nobles. I'd be thrown out, more likely I'd be executed under suspicion of killing my husband, which, by your proposal, would be true. Besides, how much would I have to pay you?"

"Twenty-five gold bars."

I did not have that much money. Yes, there was the royal treasury, but the Treasurer would notice that much gold missing. I could pawn my crown jewels. And then be killed for selling them.

"My lack of funds aside, the upheaval of such an assassination could spark a revolution, civil war, or riots. I don't know your opinion of me, but I'd rather not shed that much blood over a personal matter. Besides…"

I wonder what my faced looked like at that moment. My Assassin seemed to be amused by the expression.

"How can I get revenge on my husband if he's dead? Would it not be just that he raises a child, his long a waited first born, that wasn't even his?"

My Assassin laughed. Not a soft chuckle, but a full-blown belly laugh that would have alerted the guards if they were there. I should be the court jester by that reaction.

"Hell has no fury like a woman's scorn, huh?" He smiled so broadly his collar couldn't hide it. He had… larger than normal canines. "Alright, Queen Kathrine, what's your wager?"

Just like that, I had a card to play.

"Father a child with me, protect me until I've proven my fertility. I'll pay what I can, but I think protecting me for over three months from whatever Richard can scheme would be a challenge worth your time?"

He laughed again. "That womb must be milk and honey. If you think it'll only take one time, sorry, try again."

I smiled, "Well, not to oversell myself, but I am a Queen, and a former Gaul Princess. Few men get to enjoy such a rarity. Besides, it wouldn't have to be one time. You're certainly able to sneak in whenever you like."

"I am, but…" He looked at the ceiling, his expression conflicted. "It wouldn't be a wager if you can just roll the dice as many times as you like, would it? Besides, it doesn't have to be me."

"Well, I can't lay with any stable boy. Besides, there are no others available to me. You are the only one I can do this with. You hold leverage over Richard. He probably can't silence or coarse you."

"I'm more insulted by you thinking he even could." My Assassin replied, standing and undoing the buckles of his gauntlets. "Fine, Queen Harlot, you bought your one night. If nothing else, it will be interesting to watch."

I stood, slipping off my nightdress completely.

†

I rolled up in my bed, sweat rolling down my naked flesh. Did I feel guilty about betraying my vows? A little yes, but my husband agreed to have me killed, so that tiny little voice was drowned out by the euphoria of revenge.

My lover, my assassin, stood by the window smoking, having already replaced his trousers and boots. I wished for a cigarette too, but given some recent studies, it probably wasn't a good idea.

When I tried to stand, my legs refused to support me. I didn't want to be thought of as an old nag, but My Assassin certainly was a youthful stud.

"Rooker Kane the Third."

I made an inquisitive tilt of my head, staring at him. Ah, I realized, that was his name.

"Rooker Kane, my kindhearted Assassin lover." I held my stomach, praying my gambit would bear fruit. I felt his eyes on me. They were sad, and in that bizarre state of appearing blind. It was as if he was looking right through me. "What is it?"

He exhaled a gigantic cloud of smoke. "Nothing, the child… if there is one, will probably be a girl."

"How do you know?"

"Just a feeling." He snuffed the cigarette out and gazed at the rising dawn. "It's time."

Rooker donned the last of his discarded gear. I got the chance while removing his clothes to see a lot. He hides a lot under that simple cloak. Now I was no expert assassin, but were four guns and no bandolier standard?

"Take this." He handed me one revolver from his belt. It was well used, and heavy. The markings dated it in 1876.

"Model 2 Diablo."

Rooker moved back to the window and pointed to the corner of the room. "Fire two shots here at my command. I'll handle the rest."

"I could hit you…"

"Trust me, you won't."

Well, that just made me want to prove him wrong, but I relented and held the gun in both hands and pulled the hammer back. The big old pistol trembled in my weak grip.

"FIRE!"

BANG! BANG!

My first shot hit the corner, but I was so startled, the second hit the ceiling. The gun nearly flew out of my hand!

What was the point of doing this?

"Cover your eyes if you know what's good for you." I heard Rooker say over my ringing ears. My door flung open; two Royal Guardsmen burst into the room with bayonetted rifles.

The purple pressed uniform made them look like dark shadows in the dim firelight. They were youths, from what I could tell. Young men that only recently joined.

"Your majesty!" One of them shouted.

That was the last thing he ever said. Before my very eyes, Rooker struck! His metal covered hand broke through the lad's ribcage. Blood spattered everywhere, a pile of ground meat in the assassin's hand. It might have been the soldier's heart.

Rooker pushed the disemboweled man into his comrade. Startling the other man, a youth with a fine mustache, caught his hopeless follow guardsmen in a state of shock. His hands occupied with the weight of his friend's body.

BANG! BANG!

Two shots, one in each man's head. I hadn't even seen Rooker draw his gun.

"Stay here."

His tone was as firm as stone. It paralyzed me, rooting me to the bed. However, I always had a rebellious streak. Clad loosely in my nightgown, I patter after my Assassin, Rooker, treading through the pooling blood of the guards.

I wondered if they were supposed to have pretended to save me or ensure I was dead? The thought made it hard for me to sympathize with their fate, but I didn't want to sit here looking at them. That would drive me mad.

Pattering down the hallway, my bloody feet leading a trail of footprints on the stone floor. I found another guard at the corner to the stairs face down with a wire around his neck. It wasn't a clean strangulation. The wire cut into his flesh, creating a red ring of blood on the floor and wall where he lay. To Rooker's credit, the man wasn't beheaded. At least he didn't look like he was. I wasn't brave enough to find out.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

More gunfire erupted from below. I rushed to the balcony spying Rooker making his way across the open floor like a prowling predator. There were several guards exchanging shots with him.

I squinted hard, watching Rooker's hands with deep interest. Given my recent intimacy with him, I knew what was on his person. I knew he carried four pistols with one in my hands. He didn't carry a bandolier or any extra bullets that I could find.

Yet… he was continuously shooting. Fanning the hammer of his revolvers like a Lonkian cowboy I've read in imported novels. Not only that, he seemed to throw his empty gun away and draw from the same holster over and over.

No, that was impossible. I've been up all night; I must be delirious.

And yet, as I count the bullets escaping his barrel.

"Six times four… no, three, eighteen." He's fired well over eighteen times by now. I stared hard, watching his hands.

What I saw flummoxed me. He emptied his current revolver and if my eyes weren't deceiving me, he dropped it! No, it was more accurate to say it disappeared, and another fully loaded pistol appeared in his holster!

I ran towards the stairs, leaning over the railing to get a better look at the battle.

There were three hallways connected to the east side of the room. Guards were poking out behind the corner, firing their pistols. I didn't know how many there were. The gunfire echoed in the vaulted room.

The guards stuck only their hands out, shooting blindly, while Rooker fanned his hammer aiming from the hip. Miraculously hitting his targets with frightening accuracy.

When the guards refused to even peek out. Rooker holstered his guns and took a pitcher's stance. Something was in his hands, and he threw it!

A black blur ricocheted into the hallway, followed by an ear ringing BOOM! He tossed a grenade!

Where was he hiding that?

Pistols drawn, he rushed the smoking hallway. A crescendo of gunfire filled the room.

It should horrify me that people were dying before my eyes. There was no way to tell which guards were in with Richard or doing their duty. The best I could do is send my sincere condolences for their service to their families.

Come what may, it was probably unwise to follow Rooker any further. What role was I to take?

Terror-stricken maiden seemed like a good bet.

So, I let out a loud shriek. I'm sure it sounded like one of fear, but my frustration and resent is what fueled it. I screamed, "ASSASSIN!"

Rooker paid me little mind, giving me a look from under his wide brim hat that seemed to convey approval. Is what I hoped that look was.

Like a siren's call, more guards and others filed into the room. Even my husband and Richard. Richard seemed startled that I was alive, as did Robert. I can forgive them for that.

At least Robert looked relieved. It would never repair our relationship, but seeing his sickly worried expression softened my heart.

Only a bit.

"Vile cur!" Robert, bless him, drew the saber that hung at his hip. It was for looks, but it was a functional weapon, if outdated.

It still didn't wipe away his betrayal, or mine, but I gave him a genuine smile to spur his morale. He leaped at Rooker and Rooker met him, sword meeting steel gauntlet. Far in the back, Richard screamed,

"Don't be a fool, brother! You're blocking our line of sight!" Richard rallied a squad of guardsmen with rifles into ranks, but they dared not fire upon their own King.

"This is for my honor, brother! Vile Cur! Come to kill my wife!"

Rooker replied in a rather devilishly over the top way, breaking off the engagement, but keeping Robert between him and the men aiming at him. "Fool, if there is one to kill here, it is you! Why take the queen when there's the king? At least she proved to be more of a challenge!"

That was flattering.

Rooker drove in close, grabbing Robert's blade with his hand, sparks flying as metal met metal. My assassin whispered something in my husband's ear. Robert looked pale.

What did Rooker say?

Robert staggered back, Rooker throwing down another grenade that filled the room with smoke. To my amazement, he jumped to the balcony railing, perched like a gargoyle.

"You'll be safe," he told me, before racing toward my room and out the window he came in. I sank to my knees, the exhaustion of the night finally hitting me.

"Kathrine!"

"I'm fine, Robert," I said as he helped me up. "I'm fine."

"Let's retire to another chamber…" He didn't look me in the eye as he escorted me through the crowd. I wonder what was going through his head.