The silence between them stretched taut, broken only by the faint crackle of a nearby fireplace. Asher's dagger remained poised, his instincts screaming at him to strike. Yet something about King Alaric's calm demeanor stilled his hand.
"What game are you playing, Your Majesty?" Asher's voice was low, dangerous.
Alaric leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving Asher. "No game, assassin. I've simply come to realize that killing you would be a waste of talent. And, given the dagger at my throat, I'd say I'm right."
Asher's grip on the weapon tightened. "You knew I was coming, and yet you didn't call for your guards. Why?"
"Because I'm not interested in a pointless fight. I'd lose, of course, and while I'm many things, I'm no fool. Instead, I have a proposal."
Asher's eyes narrowed. He took a step back, his dagger still raised. "A proposal?"
"Yes." Alaric rose from his chair with deliberate slowness, as though he were taming a wild beast. Even standing, he didn't appear threatened -only curious. "You've proven you're capable of reaching me. That makes you the most dangerous man in this kingdom. I need someone like you, someone who can survive where others can't."
"You think I'd work for you?" Asher's tone was sharp, a mix of disbelief and disdain. "I was sent to kill you, not serve you."
"And yet, you haven't killed me." Alaric's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Perhaps you're curious. Or perhaps you're smarter than your masters give you credit for. The Shadow Court doesn't value loyalty, you know. To them, you're expendable."
The words hit harder than Asher wanted to admit. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know enough," Alaric said, his gaze piercing. "I know the Shadow Court raised you to be a weapon, not a man. And I know that weapon is wasted onthem. They send you to kill kings when you could rule shadows."
Asher's breath hitched, but he forced his expression to remain unreadable. "You're stalling."
"No," Alaric said simply, stepping closer, so close that Asher could see the flicker of firelight in his golden eyes. "I'm offering you a choice. Kill me now, as your masters commanded, and return to a life of servitude. Or join me, and become something more."
The dagger trembled slightly in Asher's hand, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. No one had ever spoken to him like this- not as a tool, but as something more.
"And if I refuse?" he asked, his voice tight.
Alaric's expression darkened, though the faint smirk lingered. "Then you'll find I'm not as defenseless as I seem."
Before Asher could respond, a sharp whistle sliced through the air. He spun instinctively, his dagger deflecting the arrow that had been aimed at his back. Another followed, and Asher leaped aside, his senses on high alert.
"Guards?" he hissed, glaring at Alaric.
"Not mine," Alaric replied, his expression grim. "The palace has its enemies, and it seems they've chosen tonight to strike. I suggest you decide quickly, assassin-my life is in your hands now."
Asher cursed under his breath as the door to the chamber burst open, revealing a group of armed intruders.
Their faces were masked, their movements precise. They weren't palace guards, nor were they from the Shadow Court. Whoever they were, they weren't here for negotiation.
"You planned this," Asher accused, backing toward the king.
Alaric shook his head. "Not everything revolves around you, assassin."
The attackers closed in, their blades gleaming in the moonlight. Asher's mind raced. He could leave- disappear into the night and let the king handle his own problems. It was the simplest solution. The logical one.
But logic had never accounted for the fire in Alaric's eyes, or the strange pull Asher felt toward the man who was supposed to be his enemy.
"Damn it," he muttered, stepping in front of the king.
The first attacker lunged, and Asher met him with lethal precision. His dagger flashed, slicing through flesh as the man crumpled to the floor. Another came at him, and Asher parried the strike with fluid ease, his movements a deadly dance honed through years of training.
Behind him, Alaric grabbed a fallen sword and held it with surprising confidence. "You're not the only one who knows how to fight," he said, though his tone held more humor than arrogance.
"Stay behind me," Asher snapped, blocking another strike.
The battle was swift and brutal, ending with the attackers sprawled lifeless across the chamber floor. Asher's chest heaved as he turned to face Alaric, his dagger still dripping with blood.
"You've made your point," Asher said, his voice rough. "Now tell me why I shouldn't kill you for dragging me into this mess."
Alaric smiled, stepping closer until the distance between them was almost nonexistent. "Because you've already made your choice, assassin. Whether you admit it or not, you're standing on my side now."
For the first time in years, Asher didn't know how to respond.