Since he"d already delivered his message to Davenport about the payment of debt, she assumed that he would have been more interested in determining where Sessily had disappeared to and had not planned to linger at the estate.
Fairhaven might be able to locate her trail to the falls, but he"d never guess in a millennium she"d end up back here. Or at least she hoped he wouldn"t. If she truly had been a thief, she wouldn"t be smart to return to the same place she wished to commit her thievery. And Fairhaven had to realize that.
She hid behind the yew hedges in the chilly breeze and waited until the lights in the estate began to wink out. She normally was a very patient person—as would be expected of a master assassin—but after all that had happened with Fairhaven and the worry that he"d find her here, her patience was running out.
Go to bed, she thought, over and over again. Sleep. Get on with it!
So she could get on with her job, too.
Two hours later, when the entire estate was dark, she returned to the library. The room was empty, and she moved to the door that opened into the hall as quietly as she could. The silk gowns she wore swished softly with her movements.
In the hallway outside the library, she noted stairs. Up the stairs undoubtedly she would find the bedchambers. One would be the lord"s chamber, the other, Marguerite"s and most likely several guest chambers. Sessily moved quietly up the stairs, thankful that none of the wooden steps squeaked and that the long carpet padded her footfalls although she was pretty good at moving like the mist, silently no matter where she was.
The lights were all out in the rooms, although candles cast a faint glow illuminating the hallway. Which room was which, though?
She glanced down at the gold and rust hand-woven carpet featuring the hunt, while she looked for telltale signs of fae dust. Although the lord"s fae dust was all over the hallway, the most recent trail led to one door. If he wasn"t visiting his wife tonight, then this room had to be his bedchamber.
Sessily slowly pulled the bedchamber door open and gingerly moved across the floor, taking deep breaths to analyze the scents. Male, Lord Davenport"s mostly.
Enough light from the hall filtered into the room to allow Sessily to see as she listened for any sounds in the room.
A man was softly snoring, hidden in a curtained bed.
She moved closer to the bed, pulled the one curtain open just a fraction, and tried to see into the dark bed. It had to be Lord Davenport. It smelled like him, but she couldn"t see him clearly. A faint smell of some other woman"s perfume lingered in the bed, too.
It wasn"t Marguerite"s, and Sessily wondered if the poor lady knew her husband had been with another woman also.
But at least tonight he appeared to be alone. Still, Sessily had to be sure this was the lord himself before she put him to sleep… permanently.
She cast a soft glow of fae light, a rounder beam than what candlelight would provide, cradling it in her hands, and leaned closer to Lord Davenport. He was indeed a handsome fae and in sleep, almost looked angelic. If he didn"t have such a murderous reputation, she would have been hard put to eliminate him. But she knew beyond a doubt he planned to eliminate Marguerite soon, and if Sessily didn"t save the woman from her own folly, Sessily herself would be the one responsible for the woman"s death. She wouldn"t allow it.
Sessily pulled out her poisoned dart and without another moment"s hesitation, she blew the feathered dart at his chest. He slapped at the sting, but then with the most peaceful of expressions, fell asleep. He would never hurt another woman again.
Sessily made sure he was indeed in the realm of the dead as she listened to his nonexistent heartbeat, then removed her poison dart, tucked it in her pouch and extinguished her light.
Careful to shield herself upon travel, she silently wished Lady Marguerite well, vowed to come back and eliminate Fairhaven"s cousin without any thought of payment should he turn out to be a rogue of a fae also, and vanished.
***
Prince Creshion Fairhaven studied the area surrounding Crystal Falls, found the end of Lady Sessily"s trail, and wondered just what else she could do to thwart him. He wouldn"t put it past her to return to the Davenport"s estate either.
But where was she from? What kind of fae was she? She wasn"t wearing a royal medallion, so he assumed she wasn"t of nobility. Her bodice was low cut enough that a medallion would have shown. His own was tucked away under his tunic. Most felt uneasy being around his fae kind.
What was it that was so valuable to Sessily that she continued to target Lord Davenport?
Something of a personal nature? Something he was blackmailing her over? That"s what Creshion assumed as the woman didn"t appear to be a typical thief. Not the way she"d dressed in the elegant silken gowns or the way she"d slipped into the Davenport"s estate, pretending to be a friend of the family. She was cunning and way too thorough. No, not a typical fae thief at all.
He even wondered if the pixie-like woman had intended to steal Lord Davenport for her own husband. But Creshion discounted that because of the way she didn"t seem to have any interest in the man whatsoever.
Then he thought about what she"d said.
“And if Lord Davenport dies and can no longer pay his debt?”
Why would she say such a thing? The man was young, in his prime. Unless she thought a disgruntled gambler that the man owed money to might kill him for it.
She looked so sweetly innocent when she"d asked the question, too. But Creshion didn"t believe the woman said anything that didn"t have some deeper meaning.
“…if Lord Davenport dies…”
Creshion couldn"t get the notion out of his thoughts. If the man died, his cousin would finally have a chance to marry Lady Marguerite. Lord Davenport had come from nowhere and swept her off her feet. Before Creshion"s cousin could change her mind, Davenport had married the lady. So if he died, the lady would be free to marry again.
Which brought Creshion"s thoughts narrowing back on Sessily again. Who was she, really?
A thief? Although she didn"t seem to be doing very well in her chosen occupation if that was the case. On a personal vendetta of some sort?
He couldn"t stop thinking about her from the moment he had seen her in the alleyway.
He"d wanted to return her to his fae kingdom where she could have worked as a cook"s assistant or scullery maid. Anything would be better than living off the streets, thieving from the royal fae, or lesser royal fae households.
But after seeing her wearing silken gowns at Lord Davenport"s estate, he couldn"t imagine her as anything but a royal fae herself. She hadn"t glamoured herself either. She was beautiful in a dark sort of way.
He looked in the direction of the town where Davenport lived. Would she return there tonight? He suspected she would. But where could he find her?
The library, a safe spot to fae travel to if everyone was asleep. And at this late hour, everyone had to be abed.
He vanished and reappeared in Davenport"s library. She wasn"t here. She had left no fae trail dust to indicate she"d walked out of the room recently either. He waited for an hour, expecting her to appear, but she didn"t.
He sighed. So what did he care that she stole from Davenport, if that was what she intended?
He wanted to know who she really was and what her real purpose was in being here. And he would learn the truth one way or another.
He stalked into the hall, then up the stairs, saw no sign of her fair dust trail anywhere, but he smelled her lovely fragrance.
She was here.
To his annoyance, his heartbeat picked up its pace. He quickened his step, then reached the first of the bedchambers where her sweet scent lingered. Hearing no sound of anyone moving about in the room, he pushed aside the door, expecting to see Sessily. He knew this had to be Lord Davenport"s room, and he suspected the lord was spending the night with his wife in her chambers.
Creshion thought to discover Sessily rummaging through the lord"s wardrobe or chests.
But she
wasn"t in the room, unless she was hiding in the wardrobe or the curtained bed. Creshion crossed the floor to the bed and parted the curtain to see if the bed was unoccupied. He found a sleeping Davenport.
Creshion silently let out his breath and cast the faintest of fae lights. What he saw was a strange deathly pallor on the lord"s face. Creshion reached out and touched his throat, found no pulse and his skin already turning cold. Creshion stared disbelieving at the dead man.
Sessily"s words hit him like a cudgel to the head like the thief tried to use on him in the dark alley last night. “And if Lord Davenport dies and can no longer pay his debt?”
Chapter 4
Two weeks later, Armonjas Castle
How many times did Sessily have to tell that blasted assassin guild master of the dark fae court that she was retired, for goddess sake?
The real problem had been Queen Irenis, who had ordered the hit herself. No one went against a queen who ruled a fae court, especially of the dark fae court—or at least who did so with the hope of living a little longer.
The target? A fae seer had been discovered at South Padre Island. But what made it all the worse—if a human who had fae sight that could recognize a fae was fae and not human wasn"t bad enough—was that the girl had caught Crown Prince Deveron"s eye. The meddlesome human warranted instant termination.
Oh, right.
That would have gone over really well. Sessily would have terminated Alicia, the queen would have been appeased, and Deveron would have had Sessily scheduled for assassination next. Or he might have been so angry, he would have done the job himself. And knowing the dark fae, he would have made it a long, lingering, painful death. Not like the way she handled her jobs.
Not that saying no to Queen Irenis had been an option either.
Back home in her wooded estate in the world of fae, Sessily was grateful she hadn"t had to do that job. Six years ago, her father had trained her as an assassin, and after that she began applying her skills and training in the art of assassinations. She never thought she would have to face such a quandary. Thankfully, the girl had vanished from South Padre Island, ended up at a fae court, and disappeared again. And Sessily was off the hook. At least for now.
Almost always, master assassins trained their own sons to be assassins to inherit their skills and training, but since her father had no one other than a daughter to pass them down to, he had trained her. He was growing too ill to accomplish the contracts, and he didn"t want Sessily to lose their estate for non-payment of taxes—an evil that both the fae and humans had in common.
He didn"t want her to have to marry some greedy fae who wanted her only for her estate either.
Like that Lord Davenport had wanted to marry Lady Marguerite to keep him in money he would squander in gambling.
She had tried not to think of that case, two weeks ago. Normally, she didn"t think of any of her missions once she had completed them. She couldn"t afford to worry about what might have gone wrong.
But Lord Fairhaven had been a real worry. What if he was still trying to track her down?
What if he was trying to tie her in with Lord Davenport"s death?
She sighed. He hadn"t tracked her down, and he wouldn"t be looking for her now. He said himself it would not be a problem if Lord Davenport died. Fairhaven"s cousin would marry Marguerite to settle the debt.
That started a new concern twisting her thoughts. If Marguerite didn"t want to marry Fairhaven"s cousin, she wouldn"t have to. Sessily would see to it. She made a mental note to check on her in a few days. This was something she never did. Not as an assassin. When she did a job, that was it, end of story.
She truly needed to retire from this job. She was losing her touch.
Fae women did not become guild assassins. Maybe that was the reason. Not that a female fae couldn"t kill someone for money and do a very nice job of it, but it wasn"t the same as being guild-certified.
Being guild-certified had certain perks. An assassin was always welcome at royal functions, invited into fae homes to dine, given fine gifts for any occasion or none. The thought was that if a fae had treated the assassin earlier in a generous way, then ended up on an assassin"s hit list, the assassin would either kill him or her quickly, or not at all.
Not that Sessily was really guild-certified either as she pretended to be her father on the assassination jobs. The guild master wouldn"t have allowed a woman to join his guild. But when he discovered her father had died, and she had been successfully completing his assigned missions—the guild master had continued to give them to her, although he would not allow anyone to know their secret. Which meant he would not allow her to become a bona fide member of the guild.
Her threats to expose him had been met with dark laughter. Expose a guild master of the assassin guild? Especially of the dark fae? He would deny she had done any of the jobs. Who would have believed her over the guild master? A woman? Performing as a master assassin in her father"s place?
And when she said she was going to retire, Guild Master Lyon had laughed even harder.
What was she going to do if she didn"t earn her living as a hired assassin?
That"s all she was trained for.
She scowled. She"d figure out something. Surely, she could learn a skill that would earn her enough gold to run her estate and keep her loyal staff employed.
But that wasn"t what was bothering her this very instant. The guild master had sent a messenger to her an hour earlier, informing her that she had another job, another that she couldn"t turn down.
What part of: I have retired and will no longer be part of the guild—when I’m truly not a member of the guild anyway—do you not understand?
Her words, as usual, had fallen on deaf ears. The guild master was a pro at the art of killing, but he no longer actually eliminated anyone any longer. He had the cushy job of sending out assassins on missions and getting a percentage from the payments they received for the job.
She often wondered if someone assassinated him—even if she had to do the job—she could take over his job! Pretend even to be his assistant handing out the assignments while everyone thought he was off on a grand vacation, making mischief in the human world, or some such thing.
She smiled briefly at the thought, then frowned. She"d never get away with it, or she"d be sorely tempted to go through with the maniacal notion.
But living a double life was way too much work, and she was tired of it.
Sessily peered down from her treetop perch, surrounded by new spring leaves that cloaked her light green gown, while she watched for the appearance of the man who thought to hire her. She"d send him packing, too, once she sized him up adequately. The last man was an amateur, bent on revenge for naught more than a love that went awry. Such was the way in the human world, not unlike that in the world of fae. Petty squabbles that turned deadly.
That man had been easy to scare off. She used a little slight of hand and a whole lot of fairy magic, and poof, he wouldn"t bother the guild master for another assassination contract. Of course, the guild master was not pleased with her. He vowed revenge, as he often did, when he didn"t get his way.
Which she suspected was part of the reason that he"d sent this new man to see her about a contract. Vengeance.
Hidden in the tree, she waited, listening to the birds singing and the bees buzzing, the flutter of the leaves in the cool breeze, the water falling over the top of the cliffs some distance hence, and heard the distant sound of horse"s hooves on the dirt path meandering through her woods.
With the anticipated arrival of this new man, an odd sense of disquiet stirred in her bones.
Very little ever made her truly anxious. Except when her father had been dying. But something about the grave way that Guild Master Lyon informed her that she would take on this task when she said she wouldn"t under any circumstances made her believe Lyon might have been somewhat intimidated by the man. And no one ever intimidated the guild master. Not when he was one of the dark fae.
r /> Suddenly, the man came into view, the towering trees casting him in shadows, making him appear wraithlike.
Sitting astride his destrier, he wore a tunic and breeches woven of the finest vivid black velvet, his cape rippling in the breeze, his thigh high boots of the richest black leather, even his dark hair pulled back neatly in a thin strap of gold—meant he was trouble. In a land plagued with thieves who would kill a man or woman for a fleck of copper and not miss a wink of sleep over it, the gentleman flaunted his wealth. Yet, he rode a horse fit for a warrior. She imagined he had needed a sturdy mount for a vigorous journey, yet he was not dressed like he"d traveled so vigorously.
He was a master of mixed messages, which led her to one conclusion. He was a sorcerer of some kind. Maybe. Humans, who had become changelings—stolen as babies from their human world and gaining some of the fae magic while living in the fae world—were neither human nor fae, but something in between.
Some wielded magic so powerful—depending if the fae who had brought them to the land of the fae and wished to bestow such power on them—that they were considered sorcerers.
Some returned to the human world like the fae did, but they never fit in with either world, exactly.
She had only fought two sorcerers during the brief time she"d been an assassin. Both had been evil to the core and extremely powerful, but she"d triumphed against them, and lost her ability to use fae travel for a couple of months afterward. She never wanted to experience that again.
In that light, she could not silence her concern that this man could be an adversary worthy of giving her difficulty. Even so, Guild Master Lyon would not hear the last of this if he gave her, well, her father"s name out one more time to anyone seeking her father"s help.
The gentleman walked his horse past her only a few feet, then stopped. Instantly, she cloaked herself in silence so that a sorcerer could not read her presence, chiding herself for not having done so before this. Except if he were truly a sorcerer, he could have sensed she was there, then not—depending upon his level of skills.