Chapter 3: Surprise Assassin

The streets in the city were empty save for wandering dogs and a few drunks leaving the taverns. No one noticed the black-clad shadow that silently jumped from roof to roof, heading towards the wealthy district.

Ara had to admit that a small part of her enjoyed the illusion of freedom the job gave her. She was also more comfortable wearing her uniform, as she called it, than the dresses she was expected to wear around the castle.

She reached Lord Gallien’s estate just as a carriage left through the gates, and the man himself walked back into the main building. He was still entertaining guests in the ballroom area, it seemed. She could hear laughter and music coming from the lit, curtained windows.

It was an easy climb over the wall to jump to a nearby tree and then onto the building. Most of the guards were stationed near the door, and none seemed to be interested in looking around.

The estate’s rough stones made it even easier for her to reach the nearest open window, where she took a look inside a dark room. It wasn’t the office, but a receiving area, of sorts. She stepped inside and dashed to the wall, listening.

The revelry was still going on below her, so she started moving. The door to the office was locked, so she quickly used one of her thinnest knives to open the latch. She hoped she wouldn’t have to do a lot of rummaging to find what she was looking for.

Stacked on a large desk was a pile of papers, so she started there. Thankfully, a loud, upbeat waltz coming from downstairs concealed all the noise she was making. Most of the papers were contracts and statements. No maps. Then she went through the drawers, then the shelves behind the desk. The dim moonlight that filtered through the window was enough to see the basic outline of things, but she would need more light if she couldn’t find the stupid map soon.

A framed map on the wall made her pause. It wasn’t the one she was looking for, but an old map of the continent from before the war. There were dozens of kingdoms that had been wiped off, merged into what was now the empire of Hovania. The human lands to the south remained mostly the same, except for a few kingdoms that had been added after the war. She couldn’t really hate the humans for the role they had played in the war. They had found the means to set themselves free and took advantage of it.

Almost in the center of the map was Starfall, her home, the biggest of all Fae Kingdoms. It was where Emperor Darien ruled as emperor of Hovania. Starfall no longer existed.

She smelled the Hova in the room before she heard a sword being unsheathed. But it was a strange scent… of freshly cut lawn, and blood.

With the killer instincts she had honed for almost half her life, she swirled as she unsheathed the two daggers at her sides and threw them behind her.

The man moved out of their way just in time, but his black cloak wasn’t as fast as he was. It was pinned to the wall by one of Ara’s daggers. With one swoop, the Hova removed his cloak and stood in the corner of the room, a rapier in hand.

“Who are you?” Ara said, removing the sword from her back. Her preferred weapons had always been daggers, but she’d have no chance against a swordsman.

“I could ask the same, Fae,” replied the Hova, circling the sofas in the middle of the room. His voice was deep and smooth, and he spoke with an accent she couldn’t quite place. He clearly didn’t belong to one of the many assassins guilds in the city.

Ara joined the dance, being careful not to hit any of the furniture. She had wanted to come in and get out without being noticed. Now she wasn’t sure that was going to be possible.

“You’re not one of Gallien’s guards,” Ara said, just as the Hova stepped into the light coming in from the window.

Now she could clearly see this was no ordinary Hova. He had the build of a warrior, lean and muscular. She could see the shape of his body under the black leather clothes that were similar to what she was wearing. He had long, black hair like hers, but his was tied back sloppily. His skin was the palest shade of white, and his lips were pink rather than red like most Hovas had. There was nothing soft about him: angular jaw and long, straight nose. Broad, square shoulders.

And his eyes… They weren’t reddish either. Sapphire blue, with a hint of grey.

“I am not a guard, no. Now, I don’t know who sent you, but I’d rather not know. If you leave quietly, I won’t have to hurt you,” he said, lowering his sword. “Scamper off, little Fae.”

“Whereas I’m only thinking of all the ways I can hurt you,” Ara said, pouncing.

His sword was back up in a split second, and he parried her blow with one swift movement.

Now they were truly dancing, and the world around Ara disappeared. She was in her element, driving blow after blow, all of which he dodged and parried. He was clearly a good fighter, even if she wasn’t going for a killing strike. She just needed to weaken him a bit and manage to get behind him. Then she’d incapacitate him and get back to the matter at hand. If he was also looking for the same map, it must have truly been something valuable. She couldn’t go home empty-handed.

“Whose puppet are you?” he said as he cut through the air, almost slicing at Ara’s thighs. He was also holding back.

“None of your concern.”

Ara knew the song that was playing below, and it was usually the one they played just before balls ended. A long, melodious tune that ended like a lullaby. She had to hurry. It was time to play for real.

She jumped towards the curtained window and closed it, enveloping the room in darkness. Now that she knew where every piece of furniture stood, she jumped over the couch and flew towards the Hova and ducked, bringing him off his feet with a precise kick. The attack took him by surprise, and she heard his sword clank when it hit the ground.

This was where she excelled: in darkness. Years of training with her eyes covered at Count Thorn’s insistence had turned her into a shadow, into darkness itself.

She was on him before he managed to get up. A hard blow landed on her cheek, but she kept going for his soft spots: ribs, neck, and groin. He let out a yelp after a hard kick in the stomach. She just needed to get behind him and get his head. One precise touch, and she’d be able to put him to sleep.

“You smell like roses, little Fae,” he said, throwing her off. Before she could react, a strong punch hit her right in the jaw, sending her flying back.

He went to the window and pulled back the curtains, bathing the room with the dim moonlight. She was back on her feet instantly, but she had lost her advantage. The room around them was trashed, which would now make her task even harder.

“I think you and I are looking for the same thing,” he said, standing in front of the window, heaving. “Except, the thing you’re looking for belonged to me, so I know what it looks like.”

His eyes moved slightly towards a pile of books, where a yellowed piece of parchment lay wrinkled among the fancy covers sprawled on the floor. Ara darted towards it at the same time as the Hova did, and she snatched it just in time, but he crashed into her, and the two of them fell on the pile of books.

Now he was on top of her, pinning her down.

“I have some tricks of my own, too,” he said, and he reached into one of the many pockets of his leather jerkin and pulled out a small black velvet pouch.

No. Morpheus dust.

He blew the silvery substance towards Ara’s face, and she had no way to keep from inhaling some of it. The effect was instant. Her arms and legs went soft, as she still tried with all her might to pull him off her.

He got off her and pulled the map from her clenched hand.

It was over. She’d get caught and tortured. Then hanged. It had been a lovely life, despite the circumstances. And why did he smell so good? Who was this man?

She watched him place the map into his pocket and pull out the daggers from the wall, removing his cloak.

“This was… fun. But I have to get going, little Fae.”

He stood over her, looking into her eyes.

Try as she might, she couldn’t get up. Her arms were made of slime, her strength gone. All she wanted was to go to sleep, and she didn’t want to fight it anymore. Sweet, soft sleep that would make the several aches and pains on her body go away.

The music downstairs seemed to have stopped. Loud shouts came from somewhere in the estate, which made his ears prick up.

“D*mn it,” he said as he bent down and felt her body. He removed all the daggers hidden throughout her leather clothes, even the smaller ones she kept inside her boots. “You’re going to have to get new ones.”

He picked Ara up like she weighed no more than a sack of flour and opened the window. He jumped off as if the height was of no concern. How? How could he move that way?

Slumping her over his shoulder, he ran towards the wall.

“There! Assassins!” cried someone behind them. All Ara could see was his feet moving at an impossible speed over the well-kept lawn of the estate. Where was he taking her?

Then they were climbing over the wall. Arrows rained over them, and one grazed her head, right over her left eye.

“I had not intended for that to happen,” he said, breathing heavily. When they were over the wall, the Hova set her on a black horse that seemed to have been waiting for him. He climbed on and rushed away with Ara’s limp body sitting in front of him, leaving behind more cries of alarm.

Ara’s world faded into darkness a few moments later.