His humor faded. He’d been working as an assassin for two years, but Hedda kept insisting he get more experience before he went after the King. More like accumulate more money. While he was grateful for the gold he’d earned, he suspected Hedda wasn’t ready to give up her best source of income.
“If I kill this guy in public, he might turn into a martyr, and I’m sure our client wouldn’t want his successor to gain sympathy and supporters because of the assassination.”
“Good point. Just get in and get out. I’ve more jobs waiting for you.”
“Assign them to another. Isn’t T-quin back from his southern jaunt?”
She stared at him. “T-quin takes too long.”
“Arbon?”
“Is lying low. His last job was a fiasco and he’s too hot.”
“Sounds like this would be a good time for me to ask for a raise.”
“You would think that, but you’d be wrong.”
“I see. How about a timeline, then?”
Hedda rested her elbows on her desk. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb. How many more jobs must I complete for you before I can go after the King?”
“It will take a couple years for you to get close enough to him. You’re one of my best assassins and, at seventeen, you haven’t even hit your prime. You’ve plenty of time to go after the King. Right now you can earn heaps of gold for your...retirement. Plus once you kill him, you’re done. His guards will either kill you or you’ll be too hot to stay in Ixia or work as an assassin for a decade.”
“In other words, I would no longer be an asset for you.”
“Of course. Wasn’t that your sole desire? Kill the King? Have you thought about what happens afterward? If you live, that is.”
No, he hadn’t. Back when he was thirteen, he’d assumed he wouldn’t survive. However, he’d gotten quite skilled at this business and he might have a future after all. Hedda had given him much to think about on his trip west to Pinchot.
When he arrived in the city, it didn’t take him long to locate his mark. Ambrose made nightly speeches at various taverns around town. Valek kept to the edges of the crowd, listening to the man’s propaganda.
“...own a diamond mine, but are we rich? No!” Ambrose sat at the bar, drinking from a mug of ale. “The King confiscates all our product, paying us only enough to keep the equipment running. The King of Ixia claims our taxes go to improve our lives, yet when the south section of the mines collapsed, he refused to send his soldiers to help clear the debris. Twenty-nine miners died, not from the collapse, but from being trapped underground.”
Each evening, more people showed up to hear Ambrose speak. Valek recognized many faces from before and it appeared they’d dragged their friends along to listen. He had to admit the man was worth listening to. Valek agreed with him. In fact, the more he learned about the King’s crimes in this region of Ixia, the greater his desire to assassinate the King.
Hedda’s comments about what happened after the King’s death had been in reference to Valek’s life. But what about Ixia? Who would take the King’s place? Another corrupt royal? One of his spoiled princelings? Would anything change? Probably not. Yet Ambrose spoke of a new government with clear laws that applied to all. He argued for a fair system where everyone worked and basic needs were provided for by the government.
Too bad Valek had to assassinate Ambrose. The man had good ideas and appeared to be very organized. Valek spotted evidence that this was more than grandstanding at the local bar. Ambrose’s loyal inner circle acted more like a military squad, and Pinchot was the sixth major city in his campaign.
After a couple of weeks, Valek pinpointed the ideal location for the assassination. Ambrose always left the taverns by the back entrance with a couple of brutes on his heels. He’d slip through the back alleys to the inn where he stayed.
Valek debated between ambushing him in the alley or in his room and decided on the alley. It seemed more dramatic and those two brutes would be easy to take down in the open versus in the tight hallway. Plus Ambrose had been smart enough to rent an interior room and hire a man to stay inside while he was out campaigning. It made it difficult for Valek to place a sculpted black diamond on Ambrose’s bed, but not impossible.
On the big night, Valek followed Ambrose to the Pewter Tavern. He sat in the back until Ambrose hit his stride. Then Valek slipped out and found a dark shadow along Ambrose’s route home in which to hide. Pulling on black gloves and a hood with a full face mask, he readied two darts. The hood worked much better than greasepaint. Easier to just yank it off when in a hurry than to stop and wash the incriminating black off his face. Plus it kept his face warm during these cold-season nights.
As Valek waited for his target, he envisioned the sequence of actions he’d need to perform to complete this mission. A slight pang of regret touched him. All of his targets deserved to die, but Ambrose might make an actual difference. He banished the sentiment. Hesitation was lethal in his line of work.
A few hours later, voices echoed off the stone walls of the alley. Three men approached—Ambrose and his bodyguards. As soon as they passed his hiding spot, Valek stepped out and threw the darts. One in each man’s thick neck. He silently counted to ten as he followed the group. When the men wobbled on their feet, Valek drew his knife.
Valek slid between them as they thudded to the ground. Ambrose turned to see what had happened. Valek thrust his blade at Ambrose’s stomach, expecting to pierce flesh while he met the man’s shocked gaze. However, Ambrose shuffled back and a long dagger flashed in his hand.
“Nice,” Valek said before engaging him in a knife fight.
Ambrose blocked his first series of strikes with ease. A couple of combinations later, Ambrose went on the offensive. Wow. The man was skilled with the blade. Valek backpedaled long enough to grab another dagger. Now armed with two, he attacked both high and low.
“Feeling more confident?” Ambrose asked.
“Oh yes.”
“You won’t for long.” Ambrose increased the pace. His weapon snaked passed Valek’s defenses and slashed his arm. “First blood.” He grinned.
Unease stirred. Ignoring the unfamiliar feeling, he switched his strategy, using a more sophisticated series of strikes and blocks that he’d tested against his fellow assassins. Ambrose gave ground, inching toward the wall. Then he quickly stepped to the side and yanked another knife.
It didn’t take long for Valek to realize he was outmatched. For the first time in years, fear unfurled and wrapped tentacles around his heart.
“Who hired you?” Ambrose asked.
And this was a great example why Hedda kept that information a secret. Valek’s answer was a double thrust to Ambrose’s throat, which missed by a hair because the man leaned back, all the while keeping his arms outstretched and dangerously close to Valek’s chest. Twin slashes seared into his skin.
Valek shuffled away as Ambrose advanced. He no longer considered this an assassination, but a fight for his life. One that he was losing.
“Did the King send you?” Ambrose asked.
The question took him by complete surprise. Could he be working for the King? It was possible. Distracted by these thoughts, Valek made a critical error. In a blur of motion, Ambrose unarmed him and slammed him into the wall, pressing his blade to Valek’s throat. The cold steel burned his hot skin as pain radiated through his skull. Fear squeezed his heart along with outrage—the King would live while he died.
“Who hired you?” Ambrose asked.
“I don’t know.”
Ambrose ripped off Valek’s mask. Cool air fanned his sweaty face.
“Ah hell. You’re just a kid.”
Valek bit down on a protest. It might work in his favor.
“Just tell me if it was the King or not and I’ll let you li
ve.”
He considered lying. After all, his life was at stake. But that golden gaze seared right into his soul. “I don’t know. I hope not.”
“Why?”
“The thought of working for the King makes me ill.”
“No love for your King, eh?”
“He’s not my King. All he is to me is another target.”
“You plan to assassinate him?”
Valek gave him a bitter smile. “I did.”
Ambrose laughed at his tone, but then turned contemplative. “Can you kill him?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a powerful magician.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
A lie sprang to his lips, but he sensed Ambrose would know. “I’m immune to magic.”
Surprise and shrewd calculation flashed. Valek expected to be questioned for the details of his immunity.
Instead Ambrose asked, “Can you discover who hired you?”
Strange switch in topic. “I can.”
“Would you?”
Ah, there was the right question. “And in exchange?”
“Your life.”
“You’d let me go for a name? Just like that?”
“Oh no, not that easy. You see, you’re mine now. Live or die, I decide.” He slashed his other dagger along Valek’s sternum, ripping the fabric of his tunic. Ambrose then carved a half circle into Valek’s flesh.
Valek grunted as an intense pain coursed through him.
“It’s a C. It stands for Commander. Meaning, I’m your commander. Pledge your loyalty to me and I’ll help you reach the King. After all, I want the son of a bitch dead, too.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll slit your throat and leave you here.”
Not much of a choice. Valek met his gaze. Deep down, he trusted that this man would keep his promises. Odd. He hadn’t felt that way about anyone since he’d witnessed his brothers’ murders.
“How soon can I go after the King?” he asked.
“Within the year.”
Ambitious. “And when the King’s dead?”
“I become the Commander of Ixia, and you can have a position on my staff. But first you need to find out who hired you and then kill him or her.”
“What if it was the King?”
“Then assassinate his go-between. A warning to the King not to underestimate me.”
“All right. I’m in.”
Ambrose stepped back. “Do it right.”
A different type of fear gripped him. Dying was a known state—he’d cease to exist—but giving his loyalty to another...one he barely knew...was a new form of terror. Yet his curiosity nudged the uncertainties aside, and his desire to plunge his knife into the King’s heart trumped all fear.
Valek knelt on one knee. “I pledge my loyalty to you.”
“What’s your name?”
“Valek.”
Ambrose cut his right palm and held his hand out. Valek swiped his fingers along his bleeding chest before clasping the man’s strong grip.
“I accept your pledge, Valek.”
They shook hands, linking their fates together.
Valek returned to Hedda’s school and reported success. She’d never reveal her client’s name, so he followed her when she left to collect the rest of the assassination fee. The man who paid her wore tailored silk clothes and had a half dozen bodyguards around him. Valek recognized him as Prince Theoin, one of the King’s four nephews.
Fury burned in his chest. Hedda was well aware of Valek’s hatred for the King. To send him on a mission that would benefit the man... He clenched his hands, digging his fingernails into the flesh of his palms in order to calm down. Valek needed to remain emotionless and view the situation with logic.
The King had sent a trusted family member to hire an assassin, which meant he must be terrified of Ambrose. As he should be. Valek looked forward to killing Theoin. It would remove one more corrupt royal.
Valek waited for Hedda in her hidden windowless apartment. The one she thought no one could find. The one where she kept her safe, her personal files, her belongings and her bedroom. It made sense for her to be so well protected. It had to be hard to fall asleep knowing you were surrounded by assassins.
He scratched his chest. Ambrose’s cut had scabbed over and the throbbing had been replaced by an annoying itch. Valek decided he’d rather have the pain until his fingernail ripped a scab off. Ouch.
When Hedda arrived, she didn’t react to Valek’s presence. No surprise she had a warning system in place for when someone breached her private rooms.
Valek lounged in a chair in her living area, giving the impression he was relaxed even though he was far from it.
Hedda held up a pouch. It jingled. “Couldn’t wait for your half?”
“Keep it,” he said. “In fact...” He tossed a large sack onto the end table. It slapped the wood with a hard rattle. “Here’s all my halves, minus living and travel expenses.”
“Why?”
“I was never in this for the money.”
“But—”
“Consider it payment for all the food, shelter and training you provided. I’m grateful for that.” He stood.
“You don’t need—”
“Yes, I do, because I quit.”
Understanding flashed. She stepped back. Her hand reached for her dagger.
“Relax, Hedda. I’m not going to kill you even though you knew the King ordered Ambrose’s assassination. Have I done his dirty work before?” he demanded.
As expected, she refused to answer. At least she was consistent.
“You’ll never get close enough to the King without help,” Hedda said.
Nausea swelled as her words sank in. “And you never intended to help me since he’s probably your best customer.”
Again she kept quiet. Smart.
He clamped down on the anger boiling in his stomach. “Better not spend the fee you collected on Ambrose’s assassination. Your King will soon be asking for a refund.”
“You didn’t—”
“Nope. He’s alive and well. And I advise you not to send anyone else after him.”
“Why? Are you planning to protect him?”
“I don’t need to.” Valek left her rooms and hurried from the school’s grounds. If Hedda sounded the alarm, he’d be outnumbered and thrown off the cliffs.
Besides, he had a prince to kill.
* * *
Valek was jolted from his memories by two border soldiers bookending a young man. The three of them waited for him in front of his office door. The guards’ grim expressions warned him to expect trouble. Valek studied the scared man trapped between them. He wore Sitian garb. Ah.
“Report, Sergeant,” Valek said to the man on the right.
“This man claims to be a messenger from Sitia, but he wouldn’t relinquish his message at the border as required.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve been ordered to deliver it to you directly,” the young man piped up.
Interesting. “By who?”
The messenger glanced at the guards. “It’s confidential. For your ears only.”
“All right.” Valek unlocked his office door.
“Sir, he may be a Sitian spy or an assassin,” the sergeant said.
Valek stared at him. “And what are you basing this...assessment on?”
“Uh...his insistence on seeing you.”
How did this man get promoted to sergeant? “Let me give you a quick lesson on assassins, Sergeant. They don’t walk up to the border and announce their plans. Nor do they wear conspicuous clothing. You’re both dismissed.”
“But our captai
n told us to stay with the Sitian at all times.”
“I outrank your captain. Wait out by the castle’s gate.”
The messenger wrung his hands as Valek escorted him inside his office. Bad news, or was he just nervous about being alone with the infamous Valek?
Valek leaned against his desk. “What’s so important?”
“I’m...er... Second Magician Irys Jewelrose sent me.”
His first thought was something had happened to Yelena. It took all of Valek’s considerable willpower to keep from shaking the rest of the information from the messenger. “Go on.”
“She’s very concerned about Liaison Yelena. There’s been...”
He straightened. “What happened?”
“The Master Magicians have uncovered a plot to harm the Liaison.”
“I already know about the assassination attempt in the woods.”
“They’re uncertain if this is related to that attack or a new one. And since the Liaison is vulnerable, Master Jewelrose thought you should be informed right away.”
“Vulnerable?” Ice rushed through his body. He gripped the edge of his desk. “What do you mean by vulnerable?”
22
JANCO
As the pain in Janco’s head increased, Onora prepared for a magical attack. After a few minutes, nothing happened. No one attacked. Yet the agony continued. Janco’s vision blurred, and from the corner of his eye he spotted the reason. An illusion. Or rather, a magical illusion right in the middle of the freaking forest.
The pain in his right ear intensified as Janco drew closer to the magical illusion. Onora followed him with her knives drawn. As far as illusions went, this one was rather lame. It matched the forest exactly. Bare trees, bushes, piles of dead leaves—all normal for being in the middle of the Snake Forest.
That meant it hid something important. Janco held his hands straight out as he walked toward the illusion. He grimaced as his head pounded.
“Uh, Janco, there’s a tree right— Oh!”
He pierced the illusion and a strange burning sensation flashed through his body. At least the agony in his ear dulled.
“Janco, are you all right?” Onora asked. “Where are—”