Assassin's Blood

by Marina Finlayson

  Chewing my lip, I followed, feeling unaccountably guilty. He’d saved my life—twice, now—and I’d accused him of being selfish. He’s an assassin, I reminded myself sternly as we emerged from the trees into a large clearing. Who cares if you hurt his bloody feelings?

  Three brick circles, about waist-high, filled the centre of the clearing. They could have been wells, except they were much too big. Beyond them, the grass sloped down to a stream, wider than the creek I’d crossed during my challenge but not wide enough to be called a river. At the edge of the water sat a small building, made of the same brick as the circles. Something about it struck me as odd, and it took me a moment to realise what it was—the building had no windows.

  A head popped up above the nearest circle. Evandir. Closer up, the wall proved to encircle a wide pit, whose dirt floor was covered in snakes lying in tangled clumps.

  I took an involuntary step back, so horrified by the number of serpent bodies down there that, for a moment, I didn’t realise that Evandir had brought two of them with him, draped casually around his neck and arms. I shuddered as he drew a wooden ladder up behind him and dropped it on the grass.

  “What are you doing here?” Ash asked, frowning.

  I made sure to keep him between me and Evandir. Snakes really weren’t my thing.

  “It’s feeding time,” the other fae replied.

  “Where are the servants? It’s not your job to feed the vipers.”

  “I like to visit my babies sometimes. These two need milking, and Idon has had trouble catching them the last few days. Hasn’t he, sweetheart? You’ve been playing hard to get.” He stroked the head of one of the snakes. Its tongue flicked out to test the air, ignoring his cooing. The other snake was wound around his right arm like a particularly disturbing tattoo, its head at his wrist.

  “Keep your distance,” Ash said sharply as Evandir approached. “She has no immunity.”

  Evandir fake-lunged at me, laughing when Ash shoved him hard in the chest. The snake by Evandir’s ear struck toward Ash, but he had already stepped back out of reach.

  “Tut, tut,” Evandir said. “You’re disturbing the vipers.”

  “I’ll disturb more than the vipers if you aren’t careful.”

  “So chivalrous. See what high esteem your instructor holds you in already, girl? I hope you’re expressing the appropriate amount of gratitude.” He ground his hips at me suggestively.

  “Everything is about sex with you,” Ash growled, stalking off toward the windowless building.

  I followed, keeping a wary distance from Evandir’s snake-clad arms since he was heading that way, too. Inside, the building reminded me oddly of a science lab, with long benches along the walls and shelving above them full of glass tumblers. It was well-lit with bright yellow faelights and surprisingly warm.

  Ash went to another room and returned with a large barrel. He attached a hose and began to fill it with water from the white porcelain sink, while Evandir took down a small glass jar and covered it with what looked like paper-thin fabric.

  Then he thrust the jar at one of the snakes, who bit it. With his fingers behind its head, Evandir held it in place so that it couldn’t withdraw its fangs from the jar’s cover. “That’s it, my darling,” he said approvingly, putting the jar down on the bench to free his other hand. “Give us all your lovely venom.”

  “What kind of snakes are they?” I asked Ash, unable to look away from the creature, whose jaw was horribly distended. It looked like it was trying to swallow the jar whole. With his free hand, Evandir massaged the sides of the snake’s head, coaxing more venom from its sacs.

  “Night vipers,” Ash said casually, fiddling with the hose as the water splashed into the barrel.

  Okay, now I could look away. I stared at him in shock. The night the assassins attacked our sith, the Hawk had said the Night Viper assassins were named after a deadly snake, which supposedly didn’t exist anymore. So much for that theory.

  “I thought they were extinct?”

  “It certainly suits us to let people think that. But they have disappeared from the wild. These ones in the sith are the only survivors.”

  Evandir continued baby-talking to the snake as its venom trickled down the inside of the jar. It was beyond creepy. He was acting as if he was cuddling a cute little kitten or puppy. I mean, the creature was pretty in a snaky sort of way, with vivid bands of green and yellow across its body, but I couldn’t see the appeal. I couldn’t imagine casually handling something that could kill me.

  “And you breed them?” Not as pets, whatever Evandir’s attachment; that much was obvious. This whole set-up, with the pits and this milking and storage area, suggested the snakes were serious business. “Exactly how deadly are they?”

  “Death occurs within three to six minutes after a bite. There is no antidote.”

  Very handy if you were an assassin. No wonder there were boxes of syringes on the shelves. This place could easily deal more death than the weapons room. This would be good information to give to the king—if I ever managed to get out of here.

  Evandir released the snake from the jar and resettled it around his neck. There was only a tiny amount of fluid in the bottom of the jar, perhaps a teaspoon’s worth. It hardly seemed enough to cause such damage. But then, I’d been living in Australia for a few years. They had plenty of snakes and spiders that could kill you with one bite. Maybe it wasn’t such a stretch of the imagination.

  Evandir fussed around, taking a second jar and covering it with the same light covering as the first one, then coaxing the second snake into striking at it. I watched in a kind of horrified fascination, the only sound in the room the rushing of the water, which frothed halfway up the barrel, now.

  Ash shut off the hose and took the first jar of venom from the bench. Evandir ignored him, focusing on the snake he was milking. With an eye dropper he took from a drawer, Ash sucked up some of the venom, then very carefully added a single drop to the water barrel.

  “You know there’s plenty of that already mixed in the next room,” Evandir said, watching him stir the water with a gigantic wooden spoon.

  “I prefer to make my own,” Ash replied. “That way I can be sure of exactly how much is in it.”

  When it was stirred to his satisfaction, he ladled some out, filling a large glass bottle. Then he poured some from the bottle into a glass, which he offered to me. “Drink.”

  “You’re joking, right?” I stared at him, aghast, but he only pushed the glass toward me with an impatient sigh.

  “Our Ashovar never jokes,” Evandir said with a grin. “Always so serious, right, Ash?”

  “Drink it,” Ash said. “It won’t kill you.”

  “But you just said—”

  “I said a bite would kill, not a single drop diluted in this much water.”

  I eyed the glass with deep misgivings. “I get the feeling it’s not exactly a health tonic, though.”

  He sighed again. “You may feel a little unwell, but it will be worth it in the long run. All apprentices drink some of this every day. We’ll gradually increase the amount of venom in the water until you will be able to survive a bite.”

  Well, at least he was being more forthcoming with information—perhaps he’d actually listened to what I’d said earlier. But I still wasn’t keen. “Why can’t I just stay away from the snakes?”

  “It’s a Viper tradition,” Ash said. “And an insurance policy, since all apprentices are expected to learn to handle the vipers.”

  “Besides,” Evandir said, “you never know when there may be an accident.”

  The second snake withdrew its fangs from the covered jar as he spoke. Without warning, he threw it at me.

  I shrieked, but Ash whipped out his knife. The snake was pinned to the floor at my feet, impaled through the head, before I could do more than stumble back. And Ash hadn’t spilled even a drop of the water in the glass.

  He and Evandir glared at each other for a long moment while I shuddere
d in reaction. If that snake had bitten me, I’d be dead. Shakily, I reached for the glass and downed it in one gulp.

  “You play a dangerous game,” Ash said finally, his voice low and menacing.

  Evandir laughed and kissed the snake that was still wound around his neck like the world’s most menacing scarf. For someone who acted so fond of the snakes, he didn’t seem at all bothered by the dead viper on the floor. “Just trying to help. You were having trouble convincing your apprentice of the wisdom of the idea—and look, she’s drunk it all up like a good girl. Though I doubt your father will be pleased about you offing the vipers. It’s practically sacrilege.”

  Ash’s father? Who was that, and what did he have to do with anything?

  The memory of that dream confrontation between him and Celebrach nudged me for attention, but that was crazy. That had just been a dream. Celebrach couldn’t really be his father.

  “There are plenty more vipers,” Ash growled. “You could have killed her.”

  “Nonsense. He’d just been milked—he probably didn’t have any venom left.”

  Probably wasn’t good enough for me, or Ash either, judging by the fury in his eyes.

  “Why do you care?” Evandir added airily. “You didn’t want an apprentice anyway. Or have you changed your mind? Taken my advice about bedding her? I must admit, I’m looking forward to my own apprentice’s return. The nights are so cold.”

  Ash stoppered the bottle of envenomed water with more force than was strictly necessary, then led me back outside into the night without another word, his back ramrod straight and his shoulders stiff with anger.

  23

  Ash marched me back to our cottage, where he sent me to my room with a gruff injunction to study my botany. The Vipers sure went in for a lot of study of poisonous plants and their uses. I hadn’t thought it strange before, but now I wondered why they bothered if they had the venom of the fabled night vipers to use. Maybe that was only for special occasions. Was it an honour to be killed with snake venom rather than by a plain old knife or iron poisoning? Or were they afraid that people would realise that the vipers weren’t extinct after all if they used their venom too frequently?

  Dawn was breaking when I looked up from my work. In a couple more hours, it would be time for dinner. I stretched, rubbing my stiff neck and feeling the shriek of abused muscles everywhere in my body. The cottage was quiet.

  Was Ash still in the lounge room? I hadn’t heard any movement from him in hours. I got up and ghosted down the hallway, avoiding that one board that always creaked when I stepped on it.

  I stopped in the doorway to the lounge room. Ash was asleep in a chair by the fire, his head lolling against the back of the chair. An empty glass was tipped on its side on the carpet by his dangling hand. I stared at the strong line of his throat, now so exposed and vulnerable. His lashes lay long against his cheeks, and his face had a softness to it in sleep that reminded me of that dream Ash, tugging unexpectedly at my heart.

  What a crock of shit. Dream Ash was a figment of my imagination.

  Instead of mooning over how soft and sweet the sleeping assassin looked, I should be taking this rare lapse in his watchfulness as the opportunity it was. I tiptoed down the hall and eased the front door open with agonising slowness, mindful of how easily the slightest sound could wake him. He was a man who lived life like a coiled spring, ready to explode into movement at any moment.

  I left the door ajar, unable to face losing my chance because of a closing creak. Moving slowly, acutely aware of how I placed every step, I eased away from the cottage like a shadow on the wind. Once I judged I was far enough away, I stepped up the pace, eager to reach my objective, though I couldn’t help glancing behind every so often to check that he wasn’t on my tail. I had learned great respect for the uncanny sneakiness of my reluctant instructor.

  It was all so easy. The early morning sun shone down on me, giving the sith a golden glow that lifted my spirits. I arrived at the gate within a few minutes, not having seen anyone on the way. My body was taut with excitement, my heart beating a rapid tattoo against my ribcage. I reached out and took the massive handle of the gate in a firm grip.

  And then … nothing. It refused to move, no matter how much I strained and tugged at it.

  I was still trapped.

  A rush of panic weakened me, and I sagged against the gate. Denial roared for release, my heart pounding as if I’d run all the way here. I’d been so sure that this time it would open for me.

  Now what? Was I truly trapped here for the whole seven years of my apprenticeship? I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t possibly keep up the façade that long.

  I would die here, surrounded by my enemies, and Willow would never find out what had happened to me. My eyes burned with tears as I leaned my head against the cold wood. No.

  I’d never felt so alone, not even the night my father had left me to live with strangers. At least then I’d had Willow.

  I didn’t know how long I stood there. It was a wonder no one saw me. Perhaps they were all gathering in the dining hall. At last, I straightened up and tried the handle one more time, just in case. It didn’t open, of course, and I took a deep breath.

  Well, onward and upward, then. What else could I do? Surely they wouldn’t keep me inside the sith for the whole seven years? One day, my chance would come, and when it did, I’d seize it with both hands. In the meantime, I’d learn everything I could, both about being an assassin and about the organisation itself: their people, their procedures, their future plans. Everything.

  When I finally got back to report on what I’d learned, we’d have everything we needed to take them down.

  Ash was awake when I returned. If he’d moved from his seat by the fire, it could only have been to refill his glass. The curtains were drawn, shutting out the beautiful morning outside, the room’s only illumination the red flames dancing in the hearth.

  He didn’t look at me as I flopped into the chair beside him and sneaked a sideways glance at his dour expression. Seven years with this guy? No way.

  “You know, for a Winter fae, you spend a lot of time in front of the fire. I thought you people didn’t feel the cold.”

  “It relaxes me,” he said. “Watching the flames is a kind of meditation.”

  Interesting. I’d never expected him to admit anything so human, or that sounded even remotely like a weakness. “Playing the guitar does that for me,” I said. “I just kind of zone out and stop thinking about anything else.”

  “Sometimes the cessation of thought is a relief,” he agreed. I just bet it was, in a job like this—although that implied he must feel some twinge of conscience over what he did for a living. “I used to play the guitar myself.”

  “Really?” I glanced at the long, elegant fingers curled loosely around his glass. I’d always thought they looked like the hands of a musician. An unexpected feeling of kinship woke in me. “Why did you stop?”

  He shrugged, and a silence fell between us. He watched the fire, and I surreptitiously watched him, wondering what kind of man he really was under the harsh exterior he presented to the world.

  “Are you done?” he asked eventually.

  “Done with what?”

  “Trying to leave the sith. I know where you went.”

  I stared at him, my heartbeat kicking up a notch. Damn. That stupid link between us. He’d said he could sense where I was at all times, but he’d been asleep, for God’s sake. At least, I’d thought so.

  Well, no point denying it. “When will I be able to open the gate of the sith?”

  “For someone who seemed so eager to join the Vipers, you’re very keen to leave our hospitality.”

  “I feel like a prisoner.”

  “And so you are. I know you didn’t come here to become an assassin—”

  “Of course I—”

  “Don’t bother protesting. I know you’re lying, and I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.” He shifted in his chair, that grey gaze boring into
me. I felt stripped naked, as if he could read all my secrets. “It doesn’t matter why you came. The point is, you’re here now, and you still don’t seem to grasp how very permanent your situation is. Being a Viper is not a job you can resign from, Sage.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Such plain speaking was so unlike him. It felt dangerous, though he seemed happy enough to keep my secrets. For now, at least. How long could I count on his discretion?

  Was he really as all-seeing as he sounded, or was he making some educated guesses? I tried to talk myself down from the edge of panic.

  “I can understand you wanting to leave,” he added.

  I glanced at him, startled, but he was still staring into the flames, their light reflected in his eyes. As usual, his face gave nothing of what he was thinking away.

  “Evandir seems determined to end your stay here prematurely.”

  That almost sounded as if he cared what happened to me. I studied that handsome, distant face more closely. All this must be the alcohol talking, surely. How much had he had to drink? Maybe I could get some more answers out of him.

  “The gate?” I prompted.

  “Forget the gate. It’s not important. You should be worrying about your safety. I can’t be with you every moment.”

  He’d been doing a pretty good job so far. The constant surveillance was maddening. “You seriously think Evandir would kill me?” I asked. “Isn’t that, like, against the Viper code or something?”

  He let his head fall back against the chair with a sigh. “There you go with that fairness rubbish again.”

  “But you said Vipers had to be loyal!”

  “To the Lord Serpent and the interests of the Vipers as a whole, not necessarily to each other. This Nest is full of ambitious people who are highly skilled in making death look accidental, and for some reason, Evandir has taken against you.”

  “What does he gain from killing me? I’m just an apprentice. I’m no threat to him.”

  “Evandir sees everyone as a threat to him. It’s no secret that he aspires to be Lord Serpent one day. He craves the power of Ni’ishasana.”