Chapter 4: Surprise Assassin Pt. 2

Acheron

The girl in front of him had thankfully fallen asleep as they rode out of the city into the forest that surrounded it. He had to get back to Gallien’s estate before anyone realized he was gone. He thought he made sure everyone saw he had taken a fae to his bedroom. It embarrassed him to remember how loud he was about boasting how much he’d enjoy her. It was the best cover he could think of to get away from the ball, and everything had gone according to plan, except for the unfortunate encounter with this fae girl.

He rode for almost an hour until he came up to a bend in the road. They had passed an abandoned inn on their way, and he thought it would be a good place to leave the girl. It started to drizzle, and the smell coming from her was becoming unbearable.

Blood and red roses. Delicious, red, nourishing blood that he desperately wanted to taste.

He stopped the horse near the stable and carefully pulled her down. She was still fast asleep, her long dark hair all over her face. There was a bad gash above her forehead where one of the guard’s arrows had razed her, and dry blood stuck to her skin. He set her down on the moist ground and lit a torch.

Fresh blood still flowed from the wound, and it was driving him crazy. He couldn’t. He had sworn it. He wasn’t like the rest of his family, like the rest of the empire, who was just fine living off the blood of innocent people. Yes, the Fae had been cruel and had a long history of misdeeds against humans and Hova alike. But he had to be better. He had to have hope.

He held up her head to inspect the wound. With a handkerchief from one of his many pockets, he wiped some of the blood away from her forehead. She was beautiful. And lethal.

It had been a long time since he fought against someone so well-matched, especially someone who could fight so well in the dark. That intrigued him even more. Why had she wanted the map Gallien stole from his men? It was clear from the collar on the girl’s neck that she belonged to someone powerful. The amethyst stone on the black ribbon was set with white gold. Whoever owned her had sent her on this mission, and he had to find out who it was.

The girl started to shiver in her sleep, and he instinctively held her closer. She was freezing to the touch. Being so close to her sent him into a spiral of frustration. He wanted to taste her. He needed to.

Why was she driving him crazy? He was usually very good at resisting his impulses, only giving in very few times in his adolescence before he learned the crucial knowledge that had sent him on this path. He still had to drink blood sometimes to keep up appearances, but never directly from someone. He had sworn an oath.

Unable to resist, he kissed her wounds, and her cold blood touched his lips. He tasted it with his tongue and lost it, almost dropping her to the ground. There was something strange in this girl’s blood. It was unlike anything he had ever tasted, like sweet wine with roses and something electrifying he couldn’t name.

He left the stable without looking back. Whoever had wanted the map had lost it, and he’d have to go without knowing who it was. This girl would be his perdition, a fork in the path he was on, and he couldn’t allow that to happen.

Ara

Everything hurt. Her forehead throbbed right above her eyebrows, and her arms and legs were impossibly tired. The ground beneath her was moist… Where was she?

The tug pulled at her so strongly that it forced her to sit up, and all the memories of last night came pouring into her head. The map. The Hova assassin. The getaway.

She was so stupid to let herself be put to sleep. He hadn’t seemed like the tricky type. Now she had no map, and she was beaten up and had no idea where she was.

It looked like an abandoned stable. Half of the roof was caved in not far from where she lay. Outside she could see the sky beginning to get lighter under heavy clouds of rain. It was drizzling and dismal.

She stood up and assessed the damage to her body. Other than what seemed like a cut over her forehead, she was mostly unscathed. A few scratches here and there from where the Hova’s sword had nicked her. Her jaw was also swollen, and it hurt to the touch.

She had never failed a mission, and the thought of having to report what had happened to Count Thorn held her back despite the incessant tug calling her home. The map had to have been important if another assassin had been after it.

She also noticed all her weapons were gone, save for the one she kept down her cleavage. It was a tiny knife that looked like a key. But she didn’t need weapons at the moment. She needed to get home.

Now.

***

It hadn’t taken her long to find the road that passed close to where she woke up, and thankfully, she knew exactly where she was. The road wasn’t too far from the castle, but she would have to cut through the forest to get there faster. As she ran through the gnarly trees, it began to pour.

On any other occasion, this wouldn’t have been helpful, except she had to wash off the dirt and blood before presenting herself to Count Thorn. She prayed he wouldn’t question her too hard about what happened. As she moved, she took off most of her clothes: her cloak, the leather jerkin that covered her undergarments. The rain washed away most of the filth on her, but she’d still look like a wretch.

Sooner than she anticipated, she saw the castle walls on the horizon, just as the grey night gave into a gray morning. A guard in one of the parapets stood up when he saw her approach.

“Who goes there?” he yelled out.

“It’s me! Arabella!”

“For heaven’s sake. What’s wrong with you, girl? Are you hurt?” the Hova guard said, looking down at her once she reached the wall.

“No. I need to come up. Fast,” she said, waving at him. “Throw down a rope.”

“Use the entrance,” the guard said. “I can’t be responsible for hiding you if you’re up to no good. And methinks you were not supposed to come home looking like that...”

“I’m not hiding, you dimwit. I need to get to Count Thorn. Now.”

She never spoke like that to anyone in the castle, but she didn’t know how else to express the urgency of the matter. The castle gates were at the opposite side of where she stood, and it’d take her far too long to get there. Besides, she’d have to explain herself, and there was no time to waste.

“I don’t want no trouble. If this comes back to me, I’ll deny everything,” the guard said, looking around to see if anyone else was around, and he quickly stepped inside and back out again, throwing down a rope.

Ara tied the end into a knot and placed a boot into it. The guard pulled her up with little effort and helped her climb over.

“Thank you,” she said as she pulled her foot away from the rope and ran into the parapet and down the narrow stairs.

Once she made it to the castle, she dashed past stunned servants and guards alike. They all looked at her with bewilderment, whispering and murmuring as she left them behind.

The only person she didn’t want to run into was Princess Lila or Rena. The others she didn’t care about. Let them whisper and wonder.

When she reached the secret room, she changed into the dress she had been wearing the day before and pulled her wet hair back. One of the few servants who knew about this room had thankfully made sure there was water in the basin, and she tried to wipe off the remaining dry blood on her forehead.

She still looked like a mess, but it would have to do. She slipped another dagger under her dress like she always did. Being without weapons made her feel naked and exposed, even if she had express orders not to use them on anyone in the castle unless Princess Lila or Count Thorn were in danger.

The tug was now almost painful, an urge she couldn’t ignore. Taking the tunnel, she rushed to Count Thorn’s office and almost slammed into the door, opening it without knocking.

There, sitting casually in Count Thorn’s office, was the assassin from last night.