They had been running around the mansion, trying to lure the assassins away from them. If there was one thing Lucinda was confident of, it was the fact that she had a feeling these assassins didn't know their way around her home.
Now, they were crouched down at the side of the counter in the kitchen. Lucinda's mind whirled with all the ways they could escape. She crept to the entryway of the kitchen, her gaze darting around. The place was clear. Her eyes went to the front door, the easiest escape but also the most obvious. She would take her chances.
"Mama..?" Theodore whispered behind her, his voice shaking. She squatted down and turned to him, putting on a brave front like their lives weren't in danger.
"It's all right, Theodore. Mama's not gonna let anything happen to you." She watched as Theodore nodded, his eyes glistening behind his curls as he chewed nervously on his lips. This would be the first time Theodore would witness an attempt to take their lives. The others had been secretive. Like poisoning their food, setting a chandelier to fall on Theodore's head as he came down the stairs, or releasing a snake in his room. All these had been intercepted by Lucinda more times than she could count, with little to no knowledge on Theodore's part.
Lucinda gently held his hands, and he squeezed her fingers with his tiny palm.
They crept out of their hiding place, their gaze on the entryway. Halfway through, as if it were planned, the assassins trickled around the corner. Without delay, Lucinda turned and rushed up the stairs, dodging narrow blows from swords and rushing bodies.
They had to keep the assassins behind them for as long as possible. Connor would be here soon, like always, before dawn.
Now, at the top of the stairs, an idea formed. She let go of Theodore to turn and see the assassins charging up the grand stairs, their swords raised and bellowing cries. She squatted down, fumbling with the red carpet until she grasped it. Then, with all her strength, she lifted and whipped it away, causing the assassins to lose balance. Her chest heaved with effort as she gazed at them with cold, calculating eyes.
Theodore was suddenly next to her, blowing a cloud of powder towards them. He picked up two more pouches and emptied them into the air. The assassins closest to the assault let out cries of pain and alarm as they fell, swords clattering to the ground behind them.
Without waiting to see if they recovered from the fall, Lucinda turned and ran with Theodore.
Judging by those pouches, it must have been one of his scented herbs and flowers. She never knew it caused such a drastic reaction when exposed. What was in there? She would have to question Theodore when they were safe.
At another place in the mansion, a cloaked figure was cutting down bodies in their wake. Hidden by the darkness, the movements were fast and accurate, delivering slashes intended to kill.
Lucinda stopped in one of the hallways to catch her breath. The adrenaline was wearing off quickly. A quick glance at Theodore showed him panting but still full of energy.
A thought crossed her mind—letting Theodore run away while she tried to hold the assassins off. As if sensing her thoughts, Theodore's gaze whipped up to hers, his eyes sharp and wide in the dark. Lucinda felt like she had been caught in an audacious request.
She smiled back at him, but it didn't reach her eyes as they strode forward.
*Connor, where are you?* she worried silently.
"Arghhh!!!" Only a second before a sword landed next to their feet. On instinct, she dodged the blow.
She put Theodore behind her, brandishing her dagger.
Her mother had died helplessly before her all those years ago. She refused to let her son go through what she had—the fear, the pain, the helplessness.
Her gaze remained steady on the assassin, who took a few steps back. The moonlight revealed the scar slashed across his eye. He had found them—one of the assassins Theodore had dealt with earlier.
The assassin chuckled darkly, his predatory gaze intent on her.
"Ah, Lady Lucinda. Good to finally have you here." His voice was gruff but full of mirth.
Lucinda said nothing and continued to watch him, taking note of his every move.
"Ah, the silent treatment, I see," he sighed as if exasperated. "You know, I promised your son something." He gestured behind Lucinda at Theodore, but she didn't turn to look; a wrong move could end them.
"What about the beautiful sight of you under me, squirming and crying? I can guarantee I'm better than all your man toys," he chuckled, his eyes crinkling.
Lucinda's face twisted in disgust at what this man must have said to her child. She clenched her teeth and replied, "I'll have to pass. You lack the skills."
His laughter slowed, and with quick precision, he moved to attack. Lucinda met his blade with hers.
Soon, the clash of metal echoed through the air. The assassin, clad in black, moved with deadly precision, his sword gleaming in the low light. Across from him stood Lucinda, her eyes fierce with determination as she brandished her dagger, her child cowering behind her.
After a few moments, he lunged back, spitting blood from where the hilt of Lucinda's dagger had struck his cheek. He had a narrow disadvantage in the space they were in, and her dagger worked better for close combat.
"Ah, not as weak as you look," he massaged his sore jaw. Lucinda's brows furrowed at the insult. His thoughts would be his downfall.
With a swift lunge, the assassin moved forward, his blade slicing through the air with deadly intent. But Lucinda was quick, deflecting his strike with her dagger, her movements fueled by the need to protect her child. She countered with a series of quick slashes, forcing the assassin to retreat again and again.
They were both breathing heavily now. The training she had gotten from Connor was the only reason she remained on her feet. As much as Lucinda hated to admit it, she was only holding her ground because this assassin wasn't high-class.
She almost scoffed. Her sister must have thought these wannabes were enough.
The playful glint was gone from his eyes now as he regarded her with clenched teeth. Then his gaze darted to the side, where Theodore stood, his worried gaze on his mother.
Lucinda noticed his intentions as soon as he lunged for Theodore. She gripped her hilt and prepared to strike a fatal blow. Time seemed to slow as she met him halfway, and with a fearless cry, she sank her blade to the hilt into his heart.
Her ears rang as her blood pumped rapidly in her heart. The assassin gripped her shoulders, his expression lax and surprised, as she watched the light die in his eyes. She wrenched her dagger away, and he fell to the ground.
She did it. He was dead. They were safe.
She almost cried out with relief until she heard a gut-wrenching cry beside her. She turned, scared for her son's safety, to see Theodore staring at her, his unshed tears now running down his cheeks.
"Mama," his sob broke. Lucinda realized he wasn't staring at her face. Her fearful gaze followed his to see, to her horror, a dagger sticking out of her side. Her eyes widened as the first wave of pain hit. Her heart rate suddenly spiked, her brain felt muddled, and she coughed. Her hand instinctively covered her mouth, and when she pulled it away, she stared with horror at the black blood.
Poison.
The very thing she had run from daily had come to bite her at her side. Almost literally. The dagger was poisoned. She would have laughed bitterly at the realization if Theodore, her child, weren't there crying.
Oh, Theodore. Tears trailed down her cheeks as she felt her heart starting to slow.
She prayed for one thing as she stared at her sobbing child through blurry, tear-filled eyes. His mouth was moving, maybe screaming words at her, at the world for this injustice, but her senses had dulled.
At that moment, she prayed she had made the right decision by keeping Connor with her. She pleaded in her heart for Connor to fight Theodore's battles for her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another assassin rounding the corner, running toward them. Her heart spiked with fear, and her hand reached futilely for Theodore, who seemed unaware. But her body failed her; spots started to cover her vision, her body felt like lead, and she collapsed, her heart in pain. Not because she was dying, or because she was in pain.
But for not being there for Theodore. For failing. For making Theodore experience the horrifying thing that had changed her for good.
Tiny hands shook her frantically.
Oh, what a mother she was.