Shadow Dancer

by Macie Cage

  The servant shifted back a step and slid a knife from the sheath on his forearm into his hand. He wasn’t too concerned for his own safety. This man was clearly under the influence of some kind of drug. He’d most likely been hired from the slums of the lower city and given the poison. Which meant there were bribed guards to deal with. Or dead ones. Either that or there was a noble or someone influential trying to kill the heirs.

  “Who hired you?” he asked calmly.

  “I’m not s’posed to tell you tha’.” The man tilted his head. “I’m s’posed to ge’ ridda anyone in my way.” He pulled a rusted blade from a makeshift sheath at his side and swung wildly at him.

  Evander leaned out of the way, quickly stepping towards the man and swinging out with his elbow. The guy was faster than he’d originally thought, managing to pull away from the blow to his temple. He threw himself backward as the man slashed at him.

  “Eva?”

  Evander flinched as Caiden’s voice rang out. That bastard always did have an uncanny ability to know when he was unwanted.

  “Stay back, Your Highness!” He dodged, trying to think of how to end it quickly without revealing the true extent of his combative experience. As the Prince’s bodyguard he was expected to be trained, but the style he used was closer to a trained killer’s than a soldier’s. It was certainly not something he needed Caiden questioning him about.

  Instead of following after him, his opponent switched targets. The man charged at Caiden. The Prince frantically looked around for a weapon but there was nothing in reach.

  Fool. Evander mentally cursed and sprinted forward, diving and anchoring his hands on the path as his legs swung out. The man tripped and tangled with him. In close proximity, Evander managed to disarm him, throwing the blade away though the man managed to land several blows while he did so.

  Finally, Evander trapped him, the assassin’s arm tight in his grip and his legs applying pressure to the man’s neck, choking him. The assassin kicked and thrashed but eventually fell still as Evander only tightened his hold.

  He waited a moment, making sure it was safe, before he kicked the unconscious man away, slowly getting back to his feet. He’d skinned the heels of his hands on the rough stone of the pathway, the sting a minor irritation as he dusted himself off.

  “Are you alright, Your Highness?” he asked slowly, painting a concerned expression over his features.

  “Er, yes, I’m fine. Are you…?”

  “Oh, I’m alright.” He forced a smile, going to pick up the tea tray. “I was trained to protect you after all.”

  “Are you sure you shouldn’t go see the Physician?”

  “Your Highness, I assure you, I’m fine. Besides, the Princess will be worried. Speaking of which, what are you doing here?”

  “You were taking a while and Marie was starting to worry. I offered to find you. Swear, she likes you more than me,” he mumbled.

  “Why didn’t you send the guard instead?”

  “I left him to protect the ladies.”

  “So, you came unarmed?” Evander was careful to keep his tone light, but internally he was seething at the stupidity.

  The Prince glared. “How was I supposed to know you were being attacked? Besides that, what would you have done if I hadn’t come along?” he snapped.

  I would have been fine. In fact, I would have been finished with it much faster had you not interrupted. “I apologize, Your Highness. I meant no disrespect. I am simply concerned for your safety.” He forcefully kept his tone civil.

  Caiden narrowed his eyes at him. “Fine. C’mon. Before Marie tries to come after us herself,” he muttered and turned his back on the servant.

  Oh, how Evander longed to sink a blade into that arrogant brat. He had the Kingdom at his beck and call, unlimited power at his fingertips, yet he insisted on acting like an irresponsible, spoiled child. He took a deep breath and reigned in his temper. All good things to those who wait.

  He followed after Caiden, smiling at the Princess as she ran up to him.

  “Eva, are you alright? Brother said to wait, but I was worried.”

  “He’s fine, Marie. He just tripped on his way there,” Caiden interjected, his tone a bit harsher than necessary.

  “Are you alright?” Her hand was light on Evander’s arm, large, green-hued eyes staring up at him with worry.

  He smiled at her. “I am sorry that I worried you, Princess. Though, I am honored that I am worth your concern.”

  She gave him a tiny little smile, a blush staining her face as she followed Caiden back to the table. Evander set the tray down and distributed the cups, easily pouring out the tea and serving a few of the cakes.

  He chuckled as she chided Caiden’s lack of preparation. ‘How are you supposed to help Eva when you didn’t even bring a knife?’ Meaning she had figured it out. She had probably seen the scuff marks on his hands while he set out her drink.

  She was a sweet kid. Intelligent for her age and quick witted. She would make an excellent Queen should Caiden die before securing the succession. She was also exceedingly compassionate without being overly trusting. He smiled to himself as he turned to the soldier who was waiting off to the side.

  “Did you restrain the man?” he asked.

  “Yes, he is being taken to the dungeon to be interrogated. I also had Susan’s body removed.”

  “Good. I’ll give a report to Ansom once I see the Prince safely to his afternoon lectures.”

  The guard bowed in acknowledgment. “Would you like me to stay?”

  “Within earshot, yes, but an armed guard would detract from the illusion that they are perfectly safe here. I’d like them to relax, at least while they are together.” He looked over at the pair, watching Marie giggle at Caiden who was talking animatedly.

  The guard grinned. “You are very kind to arrange this. The maids were at their wits’ ends with the Princess’ tantrums.”

  “It was nothing.” He waved off the compliment. “I merely did what was necessary.”

  The guard bowed again. “Of course, Sir. Just call if you need anything.”

  Evander watched the man leave and returned to his post in the background, keeping an eye on the proceedings and only stepping forward to refill cups or plates as needed.

  Marie was ten years younger than Caiden, and the Prince used to play with her instead of attending his lessons. However, since she’d come of age, the time they spent together was reduced to nearly nonexistent save for suppers, since the Queen insisted on having a ‘family meal’. Having served there as well, Evander knew that even those were no longer a source of joy for the royal children.

  The King was a kind and gentle man, although frivolous in some ways. The Queen was severe and clearly uninterested in the political marriage. In fact, while the King treated Marie as his daughter, doting on her and loving her unconditionally, she was not his. She looked enough like him that there were no harmful rumors and Marie herself was unaware of her own illegitimacy. However, Caiden knew, as did Evander. While Caiden never treated the girl any differently and loved her as though she were his full blood relation, he chose to show his opinion of his mother’s affairs by ignoring the woman.

  The Queen responded by putting more pressure on him as the heir, and the dinners that were once full of idle chatter and laughter now were battles filled with barbed comments and thinly veiled insults between mother and son. Marie, stuck in the middle with no knowledge as to the reasons behind them, only saw the conflict and the strain it was putting on her father who was trying to hold it together.

  Understandably, the Princess had started throwing tantrums, insisting that Caiden come to see her and refusing to take part in her lessons until he did. Evander had solved the problem by bribing her with this tea party and the promise that she’d have her brother all to herself for a few hours. He also left her with the manipulative suggestion that she could impress him with all of her new knowledge if she paid attention to her lessons. It had worked, if her chatt
er about etiquette was anything to go by.

  “As I said, butler would suit you much better,” Kaitlyn growled.

  “It is a part of our official jobs,” he muttered back.

  The girl scoffed. “They’re right. You are pathetically soft.”

  He barely held back the urge to punch her in the mouth. Prodigy or not, she was an eleven-year-old girl. “Well, if you fail at your official job, it won’t matter how good you are at killing, you’ll fail the Clan either way. Then we’ll see who’s worth more.”

  That certainly shut her up. He could practically feel the rage radiating off of her. As satisfying as it was, Evander cursed himself for it. She was not someone who he wanted against him and she was currently Ansom’s favorite. He had no doubt that if the girl had been born a male he would have been disposed of long ago and replaced.

  The time passed uneventfully, and Evander was relieved when Caiden saw Marie to her room and was too tired to run from his classes.

  “You won’t be joining me?” the Prince asked, surprised, when Evander made to leave him with his tutor.

  “No, I have to give my report to Ansom. I will return shortly.”

  “Oh, okay then. Don’t envy you that.” Caiden gave him a lazy wave as he turned to greet his teacher.

  Evander bowed, relieved that the Prince wasn’t trying to weasel his way out of his lesson. However, knowing Caiden, if he wasn’t quick, the man would disappear for the rest of the day.

  He quickly made his way through the castle, taking side passages and little-used halls to get to the entrance of the King’s study, where the head of the Vladimir Clan could usually be found.

  He nodded to the guards, waiting as one of them knocked on the door. A few moments later, Ansom answered. His black hair was showing streaks of gray, the only sign of the man’s age as far as Evander knew. He wasn’t fooled, the man was still as strong as ever, his shrewd gaze raking over his form with barely contained loathing.

  “Evander.” It was a statement, not a question, as though he was already expected.

  It made Evander wince.

  Ansom strode past him, and Evander silently followed him down the hall, around the corner where a decorative statue stood surrounded by stained glass windows. He came to a stop in front of it and waited, not even bothering to take his eyes from the stone.

  Evander took it as his cue and stepped forward, putting his shoulder to the stone and pushing hard, having to throw almost his entire weight into the task. The statue slid back with a slight grating sound to reveal a set of stairs. He stood aside as Ansom descended then followed, pausing to pull the statue forward until he could feel the indent in the base. Then he ducked his head down and braced his body against the stairs to push the heavy stone back into place.

  He remembered a time when he used to struggle to open and close this particular passage. It would make his arms ache and many times he’d have to resort to alternative methods of closing it. Now, it was only a slight strain.

  He followed the dark passage, pausing at the bottom of the narrow staircase. He listened for a moment, trying to determine which way Ansom had gone. He knew where the man was most likely to go but he was not entirely sure, so he was left trying to follow the man by sound.

  Ansom didn’t make it easy. Then again, he had no reason to. Evander wasn’t a child and like all the others in the Vladimir Clan, he had been trained since he could walk, tutored from the moment he could form cohesive thoughts. He could detect only the slightest noise, the rustling of clothing.

  The Inner Castle, as they called it, was a narrow and winding labyrinth. Built beneath the floors and between the walls of the castle itself. It was the Vladimir Clan’s closely guarded secret. He passed peepholes and hidden doorways, listening in passing to the low chatter of diplomats, nobles, and servants alike.

  It took him a few minutes before he arrived at a large, soundproofed multipurpose room. Training equipment littered the room, cots around the edges, tables, boards, and a large sparring circle drawn with chalk in the middle.

  Ansom stood in the center of the circle, slowly spinning a throwing knife in his hand. He glared when Evander walked in.

  “You took three minutes.” The condescending sneer made it clear that that was unacceptable.

  “Yes, Master.” Evander bowed his head, but he never took his eyes off of the man.

  “Do you understand just how replaceable you are? You have the Prince’s trust and, currently, it would require too much effort to shift his affections to someone else. However, you yourself are worthless outside of your role. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Master. You have made that abundantly clear.” He couldn’t stop the comment and he swallowed the yelp of pain that tried to escape as a dagger slid across his cheek. He felt the warmth of blood start to pool and slide over his skin. He didn’t move to stop it, seeing as it would only enrage the man further.

  “Yet, for some reason, you seem to be painfully unaware. Or perhaps you are simply that stupid.”

  Evander stayed silent, the pain in his cheek doing a fine job of reminding him just how little he meant to the Clan. Not that they ever really let him forget.

  “Well? I expect you to answer when spoken to. Or have you truly become nothing more than a mere servant?”

  “I beg your pardon, Master, perhaps I have adjusted too well to the role that you’ve given me.” This time the dagger pierced his hand, punching through the limb and into his thigh since his arms had been at his sides. It had been perfectly aimed as Ansom’s ability activated, not damaging anything but causing enough pain to leave him breathless.

  Impeccable Aim. Whether it was daggers, arrows, rocks, silverware, anything that the man threw with the intent of hitting always hit. Always. Exactly as he wanted them to. If he didn’t hit you, then that only meant that he didn’t want to hit you.

  Evander didn’t dare to move. Didn’t dare to flinch. Show no weakness. Pain is weakness. Weakness means death.

  Ansom snarled, stalking over to him and ripping the dagger out. “Impertinent, child. What did you come to report?”

  “An assassination attempt on the royal children. We have the perpetrator in custody. However, I have reason to believe that there is someone within the castle who is responsible for it.” His voice was even and steady as he tried to block out the pain in his hand and leg.

  “Oh? And what makes you think that?” Ansom’s tone was guarded as he circled him. It was either a test, or he already knew something.

  “The assassin was ill-suited to the job and dispensable, but he was distinctive. He wouldn’t have gotten past the guards without some sort of help. The poison itself is a rare variety, nothing he would have procured himself. I am under the impression that it is a visiting noble or…” he trailed off for a moment but quickly finished the sentence before Ansom could demand to know what he was implying. “Or a spy acting as a servant.”

  He held still as a dagger’s blade pressed beneath his chin, forcing him to bare his throat to avoid getting cut.

  “That’s an awful lot of assumptions. You know how I hate those.”

  “You already have the reports, don’t you? I am simply guessing based on the information I have. Given time, I could give you a solid theory if not a culprit. However, if you already know everything then I see no reason—”

  He saw the flash of rage in the man’s eyes just before the dagger withdrew from his throat, the pommel slamming into the side of his face with startling speed. He stumbled, his legs giving out as his head spun from the blow.

  “You dare to question me?”

  Evander looked up at Ansom as the man stood over him, murder a live and dancing emotion writhing over his features. He felt his blood run cold at the sight.

  “You.” Ansom’s foot braced against his shoulder and Evander didn’t dare to resist as the man forced him onto his back. “Your life is worthless. As far as I am concerned, you are a waste of my resources.” The man’s weight settled painfully atop his
shoulder, crushing the joint.

  “I did not question you, Master, only your intentions. If I do not return to my duties, the Prince will likely slip away from me. If you already have the information, then I apologize for wasting your time.” He let his hands rest even with his shoulders, palms up, unarmed, defenseless.

  He knew the man well. He knew that despite his hatred of him, he would never kill him this way. No, he’d let him fight. He’d let him fight and hope. Then watch that hope turn to desperation. Then to despair. Then, and only then, would he kill him.

  Ansom growled, pressing harder against his shoulder, the joint straining against the weight of the man, then suddenly he backed off.

  “Your punishment will be dealt later. Get out of my sight.”

  Evander slowly sat up, cradling his injured hand in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. He got to his feet, his leg aching where the dagger had pierced his skin, and limped down one of the halls that branched off of the room.

  As soon as he was out of sight he lengthened his stride, pulling a handkerchief to wrap around his hand and ignoring the pain in his thigh. Ansom was growing restless. Any question was treated as an act of disobedience. All disobedience was treated with brutal, efficient punishment. You either fell in line, or you died.

  It hadn’t been that way until recently. Ansom hadn’t seemed to care what his people did so long as they did their jobs. Then, slowly but surely, he tightened his hold on all of them and by then it was too late to question him. He hadn’t led them astray yet at least. Whatever was bothering the man had to be on a grand scale to make him this stressed.

  The Vladimir Clan had served the royal family since the Kingdom’s foundation. Over the years, they began to rule from the shadows, subtly manipulating the Kings and heirs to keep the kingdom prosperous. If the King was found unsuited and his heir incompetent, then the Clan would take over. They had become assassins.

  It had only happened once in their history. A King had planned to give over his crown to a neighboring Kingdom, a desperate act founded by a famine that had already taken hundreds of lives. His daughter had only been three and incapable of taking the throne, so the Clan head of the time assassinated his charge. With the King dead, as per the Kingdom’s laws, with the Queen as head consul, the head of the Vladimir Clan became Regent until the Princess was old enough to take over.