“No repercussions? Are you saying you wouldn’t take revenge for me?”
He held my gaze in challenge. “Would revenge bring you back?”
All the fight went out of me in a rush. I sagged forward, exhausted, and let my forehead rest against his broad chest, while emotions swirled within me. Sorrow, disappointment in myself, and shock at a sudden, unwelcome insight into my own motivations.
“Sage?” He gathered me gently against him. “Are you well?”
Was I? Would revenge bring you back? Revenge never brought anyone back. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t already known this. Revenge wasn’t about doing anything for the dead; it was about soothing the grief of those left behind, giving them something to do in the face of their loss.
I’d said I’d wanted justice for Nevith, not revenge. Justice would have ended at the front door of this sith. Justice would have taken me straight back to Raven and the king to report what I’d discovered.
But I’d let my anger and grief drive me, casting aside all common sense. What was I doing here? Nevith was dead and there was no changing that, no matter how many assassins I killed. I was such a fool. Revenge wouldn’t bring him back. All the drive for revenge had done was trap me here, where I would very likely get myself killed. And I was no cold-blooded killer. My friends would be worried sick, and it was all for nothing. I hadn’t even been able to kill Nuah in the woods that night, though I’d had a perfect shot. I’d done nothing but delude myself since I got here.
Now I was trapped here, where an assassin I should despise was the one trying to keep me alive in spite of my best efforts to get myself killed. His arms around me were strong and unexpectedly comforting—so much so that I was quietly horrified at myself.
What was I thinking? How could I feel attracted to a man like this, a man who killed for a living?
But it’s not his fault, I reminded myself. He didn’t want to be a Viper any more than you did. I rested my burning face against the black cloth stretched over his muscled chest and felt his heart, beating sure and strong beneath my cheek. It was strangely soothing.
Then his fingers were under my chin, tipping my face up to his. His grey gaze caught mine and held it.
He was impossibly beautiful, but it wasn’t his beauty that called to me. I’d been surrounded by fae beauty all my life.
It was his pain that reeled me in—that deep sadness lurking at his core. It called to the child in me who had lost her mother, whose father had abandoned her among strangers. I wanted to fix it for him, show him that it was possible to move through the pain and find life waiting on the other side.
I was intensely aware of the heat of his body, only a breath away, and of the softness of his skin against mine where his fingers still cradled my chin. His lips parted as I gazed at them, and a flush of heat swept across my face. I’d kissed those lips in my dreams, tasted his mouth and done so much more. His gaze was on my mouth now, too, and my blood roared in my ears.
What was wrong with me? He was the enemy. But I couldn’t care about the people he’d killed, with the firelight playing on his face, his eyes pulling me closer. I could drown in those haunted eyes.
I leaned towards him, drawn inexorably into a moment that felt unavoidable. When had I first felt the pull? When he’d saved me from Evandir’s viper? Or when I’d seen the avenging fury on his face as he pulled Evandir off me in the midnight woods?
Our lips were about to touch, and my heart pounded in an erratic rhythm. He filled all my senses—the fresh forest scent of him, the warmth of his body. His breath was soft on my face, and I was melting into him when shadows leapt to life in the corners of the room.
I drew back with a gasp. Here, too? The darkness boiled, forming the shape of a woman, her dark hair coiling free around her head like serpents. The shadows had grown bold.
“What’s wrong?” Ash’s hand fell away as he stepped back, leaving me bereft.
“Nothing.”
The shadow woman moved closer. “See what you could have if you joined with us?” she whispered. “He wants you, too. All he needs is a little push.”
Resolutely, I turned my gaze from her, back to his face. But it was too late. The moment had dissipated like smoke, and his mask was back in place.
“Sit down,” he said. “I’ll get you a drink.”
I didn’t need a drink; I needed him, but I didn’t quite have the guts to come out with that. I peeked in the corner, but the shadow woman was gone again. Maybe I’d imagined the whole thing. Maybe I was crazy.
No, I was definitely crazy. No maybe about it. Crazy to think a relationship between us could ever work. The yearning I thought I’d seen in his eyes was gone, and he was all business as he mixed a drink, bringing it back to me in my fireside chair.
Had I imagined the whole thing? He had been going to kiss me, hadn’t he? I’d been with enough guys to be able to read the signs, but I was suddenly unsure of myself. I’d never known anyone like Ash before.
I took a long gulp of my drink, welcoming the burn of alcohol down my throat. Then I gazed down into my glass, watching the swirl of amber liquid around the edges. Time to drag this conversation back to where it should be.
I’d screwed up big-time coming here, seeking a revenge that wasn’t in me to take. But being here gave me an opportunity to save Lord Nox, so at least some good would come out of it.
And maybe I could save someone else, a little voice whispered. If that someone wanted to be saved. Maybe that could be a way out for us all. Focus, Sage.
I cleared my throat. “Do you think Lord Nox is being targeted as revenge on Raven? For messing with the Vipers?”
“Targeted by whom? By us?” He snorted. “We’re not in the business of personal revenge. It doesn’t pay. And your Raven isn’t the first person who’s reneged on a deal. We don’t take it personally. People have second thoughts all the time. The Vipers only deal in deaths that are bought and paid for by others.”
“Then who has paid for this one?” It wasn’t that I couldn’t imagine Lord Nox having enemies. He’d been one of the king’s staunchest supporters, even when such support was unpopular, so he probably had dozens. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I couldn’t help finding the timing of this hit suspicious. Lord Celebrach could hardly have designed a better test for me.
Ash shrugged. “Lord Celebrach rarely shares that information.”
“But he records it somewhere, right?” I’d seen the blue, leather-bound book in Celebrach’s study, full of clients’ names and the hits they’d ordered, complete with the amounts they’d been willing to pay to have their enemies removed without getting their own hands dirty.
Ash’s glass stopped halfway to his mouth, and he frowned. “Don’t get any ideas. But why does it matter who ordered the hit? The Vipers have been paid, and it falls to us to deliver. That’s all you need to concern yourself with.”
My turn to shrug. I’d concern myself with whatever I wanted to, but no need to burden him with that.
“So how do we do this?” My mind was racing; surely there’d be an opportunity somehow to get word to Raven. I could hardly take out his father while trapped in this sith. At some point, they’d have to let me out.
“Surveillance first.” One leg was crossed over the other as Ash tapped his empty glass against his knee in thought. “We need to establish his routines; numbers of guards; defences, magical and otherwise.”
This must be why they warned clients a hit might take up to a month. Planning took time. My heart sang. So many opportunities in a month! “Great. When do we start?”
“We don’t. You will remain here while I look after this part.”
“But Lord Celebrach said I had to do it.”
“The kill, yes. But you’re too new for surveillance. You’d likely give us away before we even had a chance to get close. I won’t risk you until I have to.” He leaned closer and took my hand, his expression softening. “I know it will be hard for you to kill him. It takes a while before you
learn to stop seeing targets as people. I would do it for you if I could, but Lord Celebrach has been quite clear that it must be your hand that delivers the killing blow. But I will handle everything else. I’ll make it as easy for you as I can.”
I nodded, touched by his concern. What a strange world I was living in, when an offer of help with an assassination could bring a tear to my eye.
He stood up, signalling the conversation was over. “I’ll take Evandir with me. You can stay here and work on your studies—Lady knows you need it. You should have years of study behind you before your first kill. We’ll just have to pray that a few weeks will be enough.”
27
When Ash had been gone a week, loneliness drove me out of the cottage. The only people I’d seen since he’d left had been servants, and they hardly qualified as people. One of them delivered meals to the cottage at regular intervals, but I was tired of eating alone. Even assassins seemed like better company than staring at my textbooks while I ate for one more meal.
Besides, it was a good opportunity to learn more about the Vipers, while Ash wasn’t there to listen to everything I said. I entered the austere dining room just before dinner was served and slid into my usual place near the end of the table, telling myself I was doing it for the king. Of course, I didn’t miss Ash—half the time, he didn’t talk to me even when he was there. Why would I be craving his dour company? The fact that we’d almost kissed once meant nothing. He’d caught me in a weak moment. I’d given myself a good talking-to and it wouldn’t happen again.
Atinna came in and stalked straight over to me. “You’re in my seat.”
Great. My second-favourite person here, after her obnoxious instructor. I stared up at her, raising a lazy eyebrow. “Yeah? I don’t see your name on it.”
I’d been sitting in the same spot ever since I’d arrived. Maybe it was her seat—she hadn’t been here to claim it—but what did it matter? There was an empty seat right next to me, the one where Ash usually sat. Two more opposite. But no, she had to make a big deal about the one I was sitting in. Petty bitch.
“Everyone has their place.” Her gaze was hard and implacable. “The Adepts at the high table, senior assassins at the heads of the long tables, then partners, family, support staff. Apprentices right down the end here. And that’s my seat.”
Briefly, I entertained a daydream of stabbing her in the face with my fork, then I shrugged. Whatever. I shifted into the seat on my left. “Happy now?”
She sat down, scowling, and served herself from the platters in the middle of the table. I ignored her, looking around the room while I ate my food. Lord Celebrach sat at the high seat among the Adepts. He didn’t have his dagger with him tonight. Maybe he only brought it for ceremonial occasions.
Evandir’s seat at the high table was empty, of course, and so was the one on Celebrach’s right, which had been empty every time I’d eaten here.
“Whose seat is that on Lord Celebrach’s right?” I asked Atinna. May as well pick her brains if I had to put up with her scowling at me over the curry.
The scowl changed to a look of scorn, as if she couldn’t believe anyone could be so ignorant. “Ashovar’s, of course.”
I blinked, as if she might laugh and say she was joking, but the poles would melt before that happened. I took another mouthful, chewing slowly as I considered that.
Ash was an Adept. I’d known that all along, but somehow I’d never made the connection before. The Adepts were the ones who sat at the high table in a place of honour with the Lord Serpent. I’d read about them in one of my interminable texts on the history of the Vipers: nine Adepts, the most skilled of all the Vipers, entrusted with the most important kills. They formed a kind of high council to assist the Lord Serpent. When Lord Celebrach died, the next Lord Serpent would be chosen from among their ranks.
And Ash’s rightful seat was at his father’s right hand. No wonder Evandir hated him. Such a position was a sign of favour—there was no doubt who Celebrach intended to inherit his position. Evandir’s own chair was right at the end of the table.
So why had Ash been sitting with me, in the lowly place reserved for apprentices, every time we’d eaten here? Because he didn’t want me to be alone? He didn’t trust me?
Or because he wanted to protect me? A warm and fuzzy feeling crept over me. Somehow, I knew that was it. The man had a protective streak a mile wide, and it had been focused on me ever since I’d arrived. So much for not playing the sheepdog.
No wonder everyone had stared at us. I’d thought they’d just been interested in the new arrival, but they’d probably all been wondering why an Adept would show such favour to a mere apprentice. Heat surged in my cheeks—they’d likely assumed we were sleeping together.
Speaking of sleeping together … I glanced sideways at Atinna. “Have you heard from Evandir?”
“Nope.” She was sopping up the last of her curry with a piece of bread and didn’t bother looking at me.
“But he’s gone with Ash, right, to help with surveillance?” I paused, but she ignored me. Either that curry was the tastiest thing she’d ever eaten, or she got off on being rude. I was going for option B. “I just thought there might be some news.”
“There’ll be news when they get back,” she said dismissively.
“Do you like killing people, Atinna?”
She flicked me a sideways glance. “Do you?”
“There are a few people I imagine it would be very satisfying to kill.”
She scowled at me, but I gave her an innocent look. It wasn’t my fault if she took my comments personally, was it?
“It’s not as though you get a choice of who to kill,” she said.
I nodded. “Only whoever Lord Celebrach tells us to, because of the whole magic dagger compelling our obedience thing. Doesn’t anyone ever have any ‘accidents’?”
“I don’t think you understand how Ni’ishasana works.”
“So tell me.”
She shrugged. “There has been the odd accident, as you call it, among the Vipers themselves. Power struggles are not unheard of. But it’s not possible to actively go against an order from the Lord Serpent. It would be like trying to stop yourself from breathing. It can’t be done.”
“How is this dagger so powerful?”
“How could it not be?” She finished the last piece of bread, then licked her fingers. “It contains the powers of all its previous wielders, and all those powers may be accessed at will by its current holder.”
My eyebrows rose in spite of myself. That was pretty damn impressive. No wonder Celebrach had been able to stop my bullet in mid-air. Some powerful Air mage must have held the dagger once before him. How did you bring down someone with access to powers like that?
“All their powers, even from other Realms?” I asked, just to be sure. Celebrach was a Winter fae like his son.
“All of them.”
“And how many people have wielded this dagger?”
“Enough.” A brief longing flitted across her face. “Lord Celebrach’s powers rival those of the king himself.”
I glanced across at the subject of our discussion, who was chatting to the Adept at his side. “If I had a dagger like that, I’d never let it out of my sight. Isn’t he afraid someone will steal it?” If the Vipers were as big a bunch of backstabbers as Evandir’s behaviour implied, it seemed like a serious risk.
“No. The dagger is loyal.”
I glanced curiously at her, but Atinna’s expression was as serious as ever. “How can a dagger be loyal? It’s a thing.”
“You sit surrounded by fae, in a place built of magic, and you ask how a dagger can be loyal? Something of its previous owners’ essence clings to it.”
“Like, their souls?”
She nodded, and I suppressed a shudder. This was nasty stuff. No one should go messing with people’s souls after they were dead.
I stared down at my plate. The shadowy woman I’d seen, the odd whispers I’d heard—were these
previous owners of the dagger, or what was left of them? Was Ni’ishasana itself trying to talk to me?
The more I considered it, the more sense it made. I’d started seeing the moving shadows and hearing odd voices as soon as the dagger had tasted my blood. The dreams and visions had begun pretty soon after that, too. But why was the dagger trying to communicate with me? What possible interest could such a powerful entity have in me? Let’s face it, I wasn’t exactly assassin material. I was surprised the dagger had even noticed me, much less kept trying to attract my attention.
But my attention had been well and truly caught by its little trips down memory lane. Those strange dreams and visions of Ash’s past weren’t my imagination. I’d already realised some powerful magic must be at work—and it didn’t get much more powerful than the Thief of Souls. For some reason, Ni’ishasana wanted me to know the circumstances in which Ash had joined the Vipers—but why? It hardly showed the dagger or its current owner in a good light.
Although perhaps good didn’t mean quite the same thing to me as it did to an ancient soul-stealing dagger.
“And it binds us all to him, as well?”
“Of course. Vipers are dangerous people, but our loyalty to the Lord Serpent is assured.”
Assured by magic. By a kind of magical slavery. She sounded proud, but the idea horrified me. If only there was a way to get that dagger off him. Without it, the Vipers would fall, torn apart by backstabbing and fighting among themselves. Something else to tell the king when I got out of here. The taste of revenge may have soured in my mouth, but shutting down the Vipers’ operations was still a worthy goal. A just goal. This sick system couldn’t be allowed to continue.
Celebrach was the puppet master, lurking at the centre of everything, pulling strings that brought down Realms and maybe even kingdoms. And none of them cared. It was all just about the money to them.
Whose money had paid for Lord Nox’s death? That would be something else that the king would be very interested in knowing.
No longer hungry, I left before dessert was served. At least, I was no longer hungry for food, or Atinna’s so-charming company. Information, on the other hand, I had an unquenchable appetite for.
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