Assassin's Blood Read online

  “Remember the time Allegra nearly got killed by some chick you picked up at the pub who just happened to be an assassin?” There was a note of triumph in Willow’s voice, as if daring him to get out of that one.

  That annoying half smile tugged at the corner of Raven’s mouth again—he never took anything seriously. I forced myself to stop looking at him, to focus on what was being said. The Hawk had been furious over that incident. Rowan was lucky he hadn’t felt the knight’s magic sword instead of just the sharp edge of his tongue.

  “Well, how was I supposed to know she was an assassin? She didn’t exactly announce it when she introduced herself.”

  “Maybe if you had an ounce of common sense … or even if you didn’t go around hitting on everything that moves—”

  But I wasn’t listening to their bickering anymore.

  The word “assassin” brought back bitter memories. I hadn’t forgotten Nevith, but it seemed as if everyone else had. As if the fact that he was no one special made his death forgettable. But I’d never forget his kindness, or the way he sometimes laughed until he hiccupped—especially when he had a few on board. Nothing was ever a trouble with him. He’d even come with me when I bought my first bike, though the metal beasts—as he called them—made him uncomfortable. Then the assassins had come and used him to access our otherwise-impenetrable sith, slitting his throat afterwards, and the bright spark that had been Nevith was snuffed out forever.

  Why were these assassins allowed to continue operating, their existence the worst-kept secret in all the Realms? Why had nobody stamped them out, like the insidious evil that they were? Why had kings and Lords allowed them to remain, a cancer on the Realms’ existence, while innocent people died? The whole idea of being able to order someone’s death was abhorrent to me. Presumably, anyone with enough money could have anyone at all killed for whatever reason, or even no reason at all. How was that just?

  I looked up as the royal party processed out of the throne room. King Rothbold had the queen on his arm, and he was followed by Allegra and Merritt, each walking alone, their new circlets glittering in their hair. What was the point of all these Lords and Ladies—what was the point of a king—if they couldn’t guarantee that their people wouldn’t be murdered just to satisfy some rich man’s whim?

  The noise levels rose abruptly as the king left the room, and people broke up into chattering groups. More than a few eyed us curiously.

  The Hawk joined us. “Is there a problem here?” His eyes were the colour of honey, but there was no sweetness there now, only a wary watchfulness. Tonight, he wasn’t just Allegra’s cool new boyfriend but a Knight of the Realms, one of the king’s own Chosen, and nothing was more important to him than the king’s safety.

  “We need to speak to the king,” Willow said.

  “He is about to host a banquet for the great and mighty of the Realms. This is not a good time.”

  “Lily’s missing.”

  The Hawk didn’t miss a beat. “Wait here.”

  He disappeared into the crowd, and Raven laughed. “Cheer up, Rowan. The king probably won’t have you boiled in oil.”

  “Ha, ha.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “I’d rather not go through it more than once, if you don’t mind,” Rowan said. He looked so miserable. “Let’s wait until we see the king.”

  That didn’t take much time at all. The Hawk was an efficient man, and one who had the ear of his monarch. In a few moments, he had us ensconced in a small, private chamber off the ballroom. Soon after, he returned with the king.

  Rothbold’s blue gaze raked over us as we sank into obeisance, then settled on Rowan. “Well?”

  “Your Majesty, I’m so sorry—”

  “Never mind that, just tell me what happened.”

  Poor Rowan looked like a dog that wanted to slink under the table because it had been caught stealing food from the plates. “We were in Coles. That’s a—a supermarket.” He glanced at Willow, looking for support, but she gazed impassively back. She could hardly take up the story when this was the first time we were hearing it, too, and she clearly felt no urge to help him out. “A place to buy food.”

  “I know what a supermarket is,” the king replied frostily.

  “Willow gave me a shopping list and said I could take Lil—Princess Lily with me.”

  “You said you wanted her to experience the mortal world, sire,” I said. “As an equal.”

  Rowan’s hangdog expression was just too much for me. He shot me a grateful look, but the king only nodded.

  “So, we had a trolley full of stuff,” Rowan continued, “and we were waiting at the checkout when I realised I’d forgotten the steak. So, I told the princess to wait in the queue, and I ran back to the meat section.”

  Willow drew in a deep, exasperated breath through her nose, and he glanced nervously at her. I could understand her frustration. Hell, I shared it. He’d left her alone?

  “It was only for a moment,” he said, as if I’d spoken out loud. “She was barely out of my sight. But when I got back, she was gone, and the trolley … the trolley was full of rocks. She’d Glamoured all the food. The checkout chick glared at me like I’d just robbed a bank and asked me if I thought I was being funny bringing a bunch of rocks through her checkout. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “I hope you went looking for my daughter,” the king said, still in that icy tone.

  Rowan’s head bobbed in a nervous nod. “As soon as I could. After security threw me out and told me not to come back.”

  I wondered what had happened to the Glamoured groceries. They’d probably been thrown out into the carpark, where they would have rotted. What a stupid waste. Seemed like a dick move by the princess. Doing a runner was one thing, but why mess with the food? Just to slow Rowan down? He was hardly a threat to her, anyway. The antlered fae were nearly as gentle as the deer they resembled.

  “Presumably, you’re here because you couldn’t find her.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  The king sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Any reports, Kyrrim?”

  “No, sire,” the Hawk said. “She could have gone to Summer.”

  “She could,” he agreed, “but my daughter lacks subtlety, so let’s try the obvious first. Come with me.”

  He strode from the room. We lingered, unsure if he’d meant us, but hurried in his wake at an impatient gesture from the Hawk. The king led us through narrow corridors I’d never seen before—servants’ ways, probably—far from the eyes of his other guests.

  After ascending a narrow spiral stair that echoed hollowly with every step, we came through a plain wooden door into a wide and sumptuous hallway. Clearly, we were back in the public areas of the palace. Thick white carpet muffled our footsteps, and blue-eyed Brenfells gazed down their long, painted noses at us from the walls as we passed.

  The king opened a door covered in golden leaf carvings without knocking. “Lily? Are you here?”

  The chamber we entered looked just as I had expected the princess’s rooms to look. Pink and white velvet draped the tall windows; overstuffed lounges were upholstered in deep pink velvets, their arms and legs gilded within an inch of their lives, and cushions were everywhere—more cushions than any normal person could ever need in a lifetime. A strong scent of lavender hung on the air.

  A door in the far wall opened, revealing an equally pink bedroom, and Rowan let out a sigh of relief when the princess emerged.

  “Yes, Father,” Lily said, a defiant tilt to her chin. She wore a white satin ballgown with tiny pink roses encircling the hem. Her hair was around her shoulders in a dark cloud, only partially pinned up. “Fennery will be done with my hair directly, and then I’ll be ready. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the ceremony.”

  “That’s quite all right, my dear, since you were not invited.”

  His genial tone contrasted oddly with the hard look in his eyes. She quailed a little under that unflinc
hing gaze, but straightened her shoulders, prepared to brazen it out. Irresistible force, meet immovable object. This was going to be good.

  “It’s tradition for the whole royal family to be present for such occasions,” she said, managing to sound as though she were gently reminding him of something that might have slipped his mind. “And Merritt is family.”

  She made no mention of the abortive engagement, but we all knew her interest in the new Lord of Summer wasn’t cousinly.

  Her father stepped forward and took her hand. “It’s also traditional for subjects to obey the king’s orders. Even if they are family.”

  She tried to tug her hand free, but he refused to let go. A golden glow grew around their joined hands, and the princess stiffened.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Removing your ability to open gates between worlds. You will stay where you are put, young lady, until I say otherwise.”

  Tears started in her eyes. “Why are you punishing me? Is it a crime to love someone?”

  Rothbold sighed. “I’m not punishing you, Lily, I’m saving you. Maybe when you’re older you’ll understand the difference.”

  He nodded at the Hawk, who drew his sword and opened a gateway. Then he offered his free arm to the princess with a courtly bow. “Your Highness?”

  Her lower lip trembled, but she laid her hand on the knight’s muscled forearm with as much dignity as she could muster. “Am I not even allowed to say goodbye to my mother?”

  “The less time you spend with your mother and her family, the better.” The king sounded tired. “I have hopes that the mortal world and these fine people can show you a better path. Off with you, now. Rowan, you, too. And Kyrrim—stay until Willow and Sage return, please.” It almost sounded like a request rather than an order. “Just in case. Let’s have no more incidents.”

  The Hawk nodded, then stepped through the gate, Lily on his arm. He would be sorry to miss the rest of the evening with Allegra, but he’d always been one to put duty first, and he was technically on duty. Lucky Allegra. It was as if the king was a third wheel in their relationship. I was glad I wasn’t the one having to try to make that work.

  “Surely you’re not expecting trouble, sire?” Willow asked as Rowan followed and the gate closed in a puff of mist behind them.

  My mind immediately went to assassins again—being attacked in the dead of night in the sanctuary of your own home can focus your mind wonderfully on threats, I’d found.

  “I daresay she can’t get into any trouble,” the king replied, showing that his mind wasn’t quite as paranoid as mine. “But Rowan is clearly not up to the task of managing her alone.”

  “Sometimes I wonder how Rowan ties his own shoelaces,” Willow muttered.

  The king smiled. “I’m sorry to put this burden on you. Is there anything I can do to make it easier? Any boon you would have of me?”

  “Actually, sire,” I said before Willow could open her mouth, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about the assassins.”

  “The Night Vipers? What about them?”

  “Well, are we just going to leave it at that? They broke into our sith, and killed my friend to do it. Why are they allowed to carry on without consequences? Can’t you punish them? Destroy them, even?”

  He considered me for a moment, as if the request had caught him by surprise. “Unfortunately, Sage, assassins are like weeds. No sooner do you kill one than three or four more pop up in their place—only then you’re on their hit list. And they are dangerous enemies to have.”

  “Then let’s bring on the weedkiller and burn them out. Why should such an organisation be allowed to continue?”

  “I don’t know if it’s possible to ever stamp them out completely. They’ve been around as long as the Realms have, and, like weeds, they serve some purpose in our ecosystem.”

  “But we can try, right?” I struggled to contain my outrage at his live-and-let-live attitude. They served a purpose? Sure, if you were rich and ruthless. I bet if his precious daughter had been in the sith the night of the attack, he’d be singing a different tune. But because Nevith was a nobody, his death didn’t matter. “They can’t be allowed to kill whoever they like without us at least trying to do something about it.”

  He looked as if he was regretting his generous impulse, but if he was handing out boons, this was the one I wanted.

  “I’ll have someone look into it. They are notoriously hard to find.” He glanced at Raven, who nodded almost imperceptibly. “But I make no promises. I fear it is an impossible task.”

  4

  “May I have this dance?”

  Raven appeared out of the crowd in the ballroom, black eyes gleaming, and extended his hand with graceful courtesy.

  I eyed it wearily. Playing in a band meant I was used to late nights, but it must be almost dawn by now, and I was ready for my bed. “Actually, I’d rather sit this one out. My feet are killing me.”

  He adjusted smoothly, drawing my hand through the crook of his arm and leading me towards an alcove where there were a few empty seats. “You don’t wish to ease the ache?” he asked.

  Of course I did—that was why I wanted to sit down. It took me a minute to realise what he was really asking.

  “You mean why haven’t I used my magic to soothe my feet?” I glanced at the whirl of bodies going past. Of course, the fae never suffered from sore feet. Why suffer when you had magic at your fingertips? “You forget, I don’t have magic to burn like you purebloods. I’d rather save up what I have in case I really need it later.”

  Not that there was a lot I could do with my magic, anyway. Daring rescues and superhero feats were well beyond my reach. I could make faelight, but then, so could any fae child; I could regulate my own body temperature and do some small self-healings—but when it came to magic that could affect the world around me, I was no better than any mortal.

  That had used to really burn me when I was a kid. When your father is one of the most powerful Spring fae to have ever lived and all you can do is create little balls of light when you snap your fingers, you feel like genetics has really screwed you over. My father had said that sometimes happened when fae mated with mortals, as if the mortal blood was so powerful it completely overwhelmed the fae. He’d said he still loved me just the same.

  Well, we all knew how that had ended up. Mostly, I was reconciled to my lack of power, but occasionally some careless comment like Raven’s would awaken that deep longing in me again. I would give anything to be able to perform wonders without any more thought than I gave to snapping my fingers. Still. I took a deep breath and returned to the present with some effort. Sore feet were hardly the worst thing that could happen to a girl.

  “Allow me?” Raven laid a hand over mine where it rested on his arm, and I felt a warmth grow under his touch. A feeling of wellbeing spread up my arm and out through my whole body.

  My feet tingled as I gazed up into his coal-black eyes. Now, they felt good as new, and I almost regretted turning down another dance.

  “I didn’t know you were a healer.” Most fae could only use their magic to heal themselves. It was a rare person indeed who could affect the wellbeing of others.

  “Hardly a healer. That’s about the limit of it.” He gave a careless shrug and drew me down onto a padded seat with a low back, barely wide enough for two. The warmth of his thigh against mine radiated through the thin silk of my dress. I must have still looked impressed, because he smirked. “One of my many talents.”

  “Most of them hidden.”

  White teeth flashed in a smile of genuine amusement. “That’s what I like about you, Sage. Such a gilded tongue, so full of compliments. But you should really tone it down, lest I become giddy at the shower of constant praise.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with calling a spade a spade.” I drew my hand out from under his. He was a practised flirt—he’d already tried working his charm on me when we’d been working together to help Allegra save Arlo—and I had no intention o
f becoming another notch on his bedpost.

  “Of course not. Your interest in spades is only one of your many delightful qualities. It’s rare enough in fae circles to be quite refreshing. Would you like a drink?”

  “Sure.”

  He signaled a passing waiter, who offered a tray of icy cool wines and cocktails in improbable colours. I chose a pink champagne, which proved to be sweet and refreshing. Raven took a small glass full of some thick, dark liquid. The orchestra was playing a lively tune. We could almost have been in some European palace, watching a sea of beautiful dresses and graceful bare arms whirl past, were it not for the occasional wings or horns among the throng.

  Raven himself looked fully human tonight, though if I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, his fae wings, black as any real raven’s, rose powerfully from behind his back. He was a true shapeshifter—Allegra had seen him transform completely into a raven—which was rare among fae. I hadn’t been kidding about his hidden talents.

  Above us, fake rainbow drakes made of pure magic, their jewelled skins flashing, cavorted against a dazzling blue sky—equally fake, but no less impressive. It was as if the ballroom had no roof, and we sat outside, an impression only heightened by the giant oaks that circled the edge of the room. Their greenery was likely meant as a hat tip to Summer, just as the rainbow drakes were to Illusion.

  “What are you drinking?” I asked, watching the dark liquid ooze back down the side of his glass after he’d taken a sip. “It looks like mud.”

  “Far nicer.” He offered me the glass, but I shook my head. “It’s a chocolate liqueur. Bitter as my soul, but rewarding for those brave enough to try it. Are you sure I can’t tempt you?”

  He put a slight emphasis on the word tempt. Did this man never let up?

  “I’m not big on giving into temptation.” I put as much discouragement as I could into my tone. Raven’s mercurial ways were well known, and this sudden interest in me was nothing new for him.