Charlotte, Lance, and Aland were in a fit of laughter by then, slapping the table with their hands and leaning backward in their chairs. Over their heads I saw Demetria observing us carefully, sitting alone.
“Lance, would you call her over here?” I asked as his laughter ceased.
“Who, Demetria?”
“Who else? I can’t ask, she won’t listen to me, but she will if you do.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Trust me.”
Lance sighed and stood up, walking over to Demetria discreetly. I elbowed Charlotte and pointed at them and she giggled.
I saw Lance pointing at us. I smiled. Demetria shook her head once and smiled at him, which actually made her look beautiful. Lance tugged on her arm and then she was up, nodding.
Lance sat next to me and I stood up, picking my plate. “Sit here. I’m done anyway.”
She stared at my face. “Its fine, I’ll sit over there.” She pointed to the right side of Charlotte who sat on the other end of the table.
“No, sit here.” I urged.
“Really, it’s alright—”
I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down in the chair.
She sat stiffly.
I made my way upstairs to my room and flopped onto my bed, playing with my knife. As I turned it in my hands, my mind went back to Esmeralda’s words.
If she had given me this information on the first day here, maybe even the second or third, I’d tell her to provide me with the antidote right there.
Now, I startled myself with the slightest hesitation. What if I didn’t want to go back? I’d be sitting in my own hollow grave if I did that, but what if I hid? No one was a better assassin than I was and I could escape the king’s clutches easily.
What was I thinking? Why did I even want to stay?
“You’ve been around more people for quite a while now,” Lorelle said softly. “That may be why you feel different. You know many more people. Before, the only person you had any interaction with was—”
Xavier. Prince Xavier.
Things began to go downhill the next day.
Lance and I were talking about Lorelle and Darren when he mentioned that they were discussing Esmeralda.
“Oh? Your grandmother?”
“Yes.”
“About?”
“They were discussing the prince.”
They talked about antidotes. That two-faced lying . . . Lorelle lied to me, and she’d told Darren. Pretty soon Darren would tell the other two, and Lance would learn the truth.
He couldn’t find out.
“Is everything alright?” Lance waved his hand in front of
my face.
“Hmm?” I looked up. “I was just thinking.”
“You always seem to be lost in your thoughts,” Lance sighed, running a gloved hand through his hair.
“Isn’t thinking a good thing?”
“Not all the time. Your hair will turn white before you reach twenty years.”
I pursed my lips.
I had knives in my boots, in my belt, and in my shirt. Any second I expected Darren or Lorelle to scream my identity and I would be pounced on by hundreds of rebels. Even if I did want to stay, I would be found out sooner or later. But how was I going to get Lorelle to go with me?
I couldn’t force her.
You’re an assassin. You can do anything.
“Adalia, that is not how you bake a cake,” Lance scolded me. “Try the pies. What kind of a servant were you?”
“A lousy one.” I cringed as I tripped over a stool, dropping the pie. Cream splattered all over the floor. Lance looked as if someone had chopped his finger off.
“My pie. . .”
“I’m Sorry!” I apologized. “I’ll clean it up.” I bent down, but he stopped me.
“No, it’s okay. Just stay away from my cake.”
I leaned back against the wall, smirking. “I didn’t know you were a baker.”
He scowled. “It’s a hobby.”
Lance had cleared out the kitchen and was making dessert for dinner. I’d helped him make lemon meringue pies—and destroy a ton—and make a cake for one of the leader’s anniversaries; the gray-haired man named Hansen.
“Get out of the way,” he said as he lifted it, walking past me.
I put my hands up in surrender as he pushed the cake far against the wall, where I wouldn’t be able to knock it over.
“Can I help with anything?”
He sighed. “Grab that pie, right over there,” he pointed, "and please be careful.”
“Okay,” I put my hands up again, inching towards the pie. I held it carefully, walking back towards him.
And then suddenly, I had an idea.
I smiled coyly. “Oh, Lance. . .” I sang. He turned to face me.
“What—” his eyes widened as the pie landed square on his face. I snickered, backing away.
He gasped, wiping the cream off his face. “As much as that tasted good, how dare you waste it?” He cleared two holes for his eyes to peek through and grabbed another pie. “Get over here right now.”
“No!” I shrieked, running across the kitchen. He walked after me and grabbed my arm, trying to stuff the pie in my face. I ducked, and he pinned me against the counter, smirking.
“Smile.” He smashed it in my face. Unable to breathe, I sputtered, choking.
“I cannot believe you just did that,” I gasped, wiping my eyes.
“There’s more where that came from,” he gestured towards the counters stacked with pastries.
I glanced at him, grabbing a towel to clean my face. My eyes flickered to the sweets.
His smile disappeared. “Oh no, you don’t.”
I ducked under his arm and ran towards the goods. He lunged at me but I evaded him, grabbing another pie. Suddenly, he slipped on the messy floor, dragging me down with him. I pied him again, but not before he crushed me under his weight.
“Ow,” I groaned. He sat up, pie crust still on his face. He shook his hair, bits of pie flying everywhere. I laughed. “Well, aren’t you a mess.”
“Oh I’m the mess?” Lance wiped a glob of pie off his cheek and rubbed it all over my face as I swatted at his hands.
“You’ll pay for that,” I gasped. I punched his shoulder as he laughed harder. The place was a mess, pie covering our hands, faces, clothes, and the floor and walls.
“Three pies wasted. We’re even.” I saw his green eyes shining from the sockets of his pie-face. I tried to stand up, only to slip and fall to the ground again. We laughed till our stomachs ached.
“I can’t breathe,” I croaked. “Okay, I’ll get up first.” I tried again. I succeeded, but trying to help him up was the mistake I made. We toppled to the floor, and I shrieked.
Suddenly, the door swung open. “What’s all the commotion—” Anna, who was in charge of the kitchen, screamed. “What a mess!” she cried. I glanced at Lance who was trying not to laugh.
“Would you like to join us?” he offered from the floor.
She pursed her lips, furious.
“I cannot believe we’re in charge of cleaning the bathrooms,” I groaned, “just for having a bit of fun.”
“We did destroy the kitchen,” he pointed out. He still smelled like meringue, even though we were all cleaned up.
“Do you have enough food for everyone?”
“With the cake? More than enough,” he assured me, dragging a mop on the floor.
“Try it on,” he said, raising the dripping mop.
“Don’t you dare!” I yelled.
“This is what I call payback for having me banned from the kitchen for a month.”
“You deserve the ban,” I scowled. “I’ll push you in Joseph’s toilet if you don’t back off.” I raised the toilet brush in my hand. Lance gagged, dropping the mop.
“I surrender, my queen.”
I grinned victoriously.
I held up my sword and went first.
He parried my b
low and threw an uppercut which I blocked. He dodged and hit my hip.
“Concentrate,” he frowned. “What’s gotten into you?”
Our fight was like a little dance.
“I’m holding back.”
“Are you sure about that?” Lance grinned.
“Positive.”
“Be my guest.”
In a flash my sword was out and by the time he realized it he was on the floor, clutching his arm. My sword was at his throat.
“Sorry,” I said, reaching out to pull him up.
“No need to apologize,” he said, grabbing my hand and standing close. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Do you think that a girl can’t fight?” I put a hand on my hip.
“I think you can’t fight,” he corrected with a teasing smirk,
twirling the sword in his hand.
“You know, you’re very arrogant for someone who just lost a duel to me,” I scrunched up my nose in distaste.
His grin just got larger, “I never lost.” In a split second, his leg was behind mine and I was on the floor, the breath whooshing out of my lungs. He had his sword at my throat. With rage, I brought my foot up, catching his fingers which were twisted around the hilt. He gasped and dropped his sword. Catching it, I jumped to my feet, holding it to his throat.
“I think,” he muttered, shaking his head, “you might have just broken my fingers.”
“I can win against you with one hand tied behind my back. Don’t fret, dear Lance. I won’t tell anyone you’ve lost to a girl,” I said.
“It’s not the girl part, it’s the you part.”
“What about me?” I took a step back, cautiously.
“Nothing really, except the fact that when I first met you, you were about to be trampled to death by a horse.” I waited for him to continue. “In your twelve days here, you’ve changed tremendously. From the first day since you hid behind me like a newborn kitten to now, where you’re beating me up like an expert swordsman.”
I let out a puff of air, helping him up.
I don’t want to leave.
The words shocked me, and I had to sit on the chair downstairs, Lance and Lorelle beside me. I can’t leave them.
What were you here for? My mind screamed. Xavier! It’s him, you’re losing him!
Xavier. The only reason I was as sane as I was. Xavier
kept me going.
What do you want, Adalia? Get Xavier back and never see Lorelle or Lance, Charlotte, Aland and Darren again, or, stay here forever and be hunted down by the king? And lose Xavier permanently?
I couldn’t lose Xavier.
I watched Lance talk to Lorelle and found myself smiling. They were my friends.
I had come for Xavier, and I was an assassin. Why would I even think about staying?
A sick feeling clenched my gut. The sun was setting.
“Who is it going to be?” I whispered to myself, and Lance looked at me with a warm smile.
“Did you say something, Adalia?”
“Something doesn’t feel right,” I whispered quietly. “I need to be alone.” I walked away from them and heard Lance sigh.
“I wish I knew what was going on in her head.”
“Trust me, you don’t want that wish to come true,” Lorelle replied, but no one followed me.
It was dark outside. One hour to midnight.
“Make up your mind,” I whispered to myself, clutching the edge of the roof; Lance’s secret spot. “Make up your mind.” I was wearing black. All black. “You’re an assassin, Adalia. This life isn’t meant for you.” My crossbow was clutched in my hand in case of a surprise attack. I thought back towards the pie incident in the kitchen and felt my chest ache.
Suddenly, I heard noises. Footsteps and urgent whispers.
“You swore to me!” a female voice hissed, coming from
below.
“I know, I’m so sorry,” a male voice said, and I recognized both immediately.
“And I promised her!” Lorelle said, her voice rising. “And now you’ve gone and ruined everything.”
“Aland is my friend,” Darren said quietly.
“And you’re mine, so how could you do this?”
I looked over the edge to find the two dark figures standing on the balcony. Suddenly, another dark shape moved towards them.
“You?” Lorelle hissed. “What’re you doing here?”
“I heard Aland and Charlotte talking. You’ll need to pay me to keep quiet now.” The cold voice belonged to Demetria. I held in a breath.
“Now you’ve done it,” I heard Lorelle’s panicked voice. “Darren, how could you?”
“I knew she wasn’t who she said she was,” Charlotte’s sneering voice came.
It had been a matter of time.
They all knew.
All of them knew who I was, except Lance. I felt hatred boil inside me. I trusted Lorelle. I trusted her. I wanted to hurt her, to teach her a lesson.
Kill all who are a threat to your identity. X is almost dead. Don’t risk it. And that means everyone.
I raised my crossbow, aiming it straight at Lorelle’s head. One shot and she’d be dead.
Let go, I urged myself. Do it. Get it over with. I closed my eyes and pointed, taking a deep breath. And I pulled the trigger.
Or at least I tried to because when I opened my eyes, she was still alive and moving, but Darren had seen my shadow. I
backed away from the edge.
“There’s someone there,” Darren said. I heard moving footsteps and my breath caught in my throat.
No time to think. I was done for. Now, there were no more choices. I ran, throwing the door open and pushed past Lance who was just about to enter. He slammed against the wall and called my name, but I ignored him.
Antidote, antidote, antidote.
For the first time in my life, I’d hesitated. The Assassin hadn’t assassinated.
FIFTEEN
Get to Esmeralda.
That was my primary goal. I was running like a madwoman. Luckily, most of the people were asleep, making it easier for me to reach the infirmary.
I slipped down the trapdoor and climbed down the ladder, panting as I ran.
“Esmeralda,” I croaked, “give it to me.”
She looked up, a hazel liquid in her hand. There was only disappointment in her eyes.
“I thought you wouldn’t show up,” she whispered, standing up. “I was hopeful—”
“Give it to me,” I scowled. “They all know. Your granddaughter betrayed me.”
I reached for it and she didn’t move, not bothering to stop me. She knew she couldn’t. Her eyes were sad.
The antidote in my hand gave me strength. I turned around to leave, but Esmeralda grabbed my arm. She was surprisingly strong for a woman her age. I looked over my shoulder at her face, my chest rising and falling heavily.
“Take this,” she whispered, slipping a scarlet envelope in my hand. “Go. Hurry. Get out of here!”
I hurled myself through the door and raced up the ladder,
through the trapdoor, past Lance and Demetria, and up the stairs like a flash of lighting.
“What’s going on?” I heard Lance yell.
“Shut up!” Demetria yelled in response. “We’re dead, and so is she!”
I threw open my weapon drawer, feeling for knives. I pulled one out and stuck it in my belt. Armed, I made my way towards the window. I slipped my legs through the opening, standing up. I stared at the long drop below, wind whipping through my hair. My stomach twisted.
No time to be afraid now. Jump.
I turned to look behind me, one last look at Lance who had stepped into my room. He ran towards me, grabbing my arm.
“Please tell me it’s not true,” he panted. “Tell me this is all some joke.”
“Lance,” I whispered, peeling his hand off.
He was so confused, his green eyes wide.
“Forgive me.” I pushed him away.
“Yo
u have to tell me what this is.” He eyed the vial in my hand as I strapped it to my waist. “What are you doing with that?”
“Lance, please let go of me—”
“Who are you?”
“Forget about me,” I said, pushing him again.
“I can’t.”
“Stop,” I cut him off, and pushed myself off.
The drop was long, but I landed perfectly, rolling in the grass and getting to my feet.
There was no time to waste. I checked the antidote which was safely tucked into my belt and felt acid rise up my throat.
I had to bring Lorelle. I couldn’t stay here, and I couldn’t
go back without a reasonable explanation for my failure.
I made my way towards the stables, grabbing the reins of the first horse I saw, knocking out the stable boy. The saddle was already set and I jumped on, pulling the reins to turn the horse around. I had to go back and take Lorelle.
The horse galloped to the front of the base where Aland and Darren were standing, weapons loaded.
“Get down from the horse now,” Darren ordered. Lorelle appeared from behind him, wordlessly. Darren bit his lip, his eyes fierce. He wasn’t going to back down without a fight, and I admired him for that. Lorelle stood panic-stricken, trying to make silent communication with me.
“Get off the horse and we won’t hurt you.”
Slowly, I slid off.
A plan. I need a plan.
“Put your weapons down and I won’t hurt you.”
“You’re not fooling anyone, Assassin,” Aland spat. Charlotte stepped in front of him, holding a crossbow. Her eyes were bright and fierce, her red hair flaming.
Where was Lance?
“Give me Lorelle and I won’t hurt any of you,” I repeated. Darren pulled Lorelle back, gripping her arm. There was no way I could take her with me. She was guarded. They wouldn’t hesitate to shoot me down if I moved towards her.
I held up my arms, plans calculating in my head.
Charlotte’s green eyes burned holes through my skin. I looked straight at Lorelle. The leader’s daughter.
And then I changed my mind.
There was a movement behind me, and I sensed it the same way a fly knew the moment it was about to be swatted.
I whipped around, grabbing him by the arm and twisting it
The Battle for Astodia Page 11