by Sarra Cannon
Azurha eased back against the wall, hiding her wounded arm behind her back so her visitor wouldn’t know that she had at least one free hand. As it was, it wouldn’t be very useful in its current condition. Her hand was so raw and swollen that even making a fist had become a chore. Freeing her hand doubled the length of chain she had available to use, however, and she started listing the ways she could defend herself with it.
Keys rattled outside her door, and the locks clicked. The hinges groaned as the door opened.A man clad in the Legion’s armor stood in the doorway, but shadows concealed his face.
Azurha licked her lips and gathered the slack in her right hand. The muscles in her legs coiled tighter as she prepared to spring at the solider as soon as he came into range.
Several seconds ticked while he stood just inside the cell. The angle of his torch illuminated her position but kept her from seeing his face.
At last, he moved to place the torch in its holder. “Ah, Little Rabbit,I never dreamed I’d be in this position.”
She was forced to swallow several times before her parched throat worked. “What position would that be, Cassius?”
“Don’t play innocent with me, Azurha. I’m the one who taught you everything you know.” He pulled out his gladius and moved into the light. An ugly cut snaked across his cheekbone, its edges already turning black from the poison she’d coated her blade with. “And yet, you’ve disappointed me.”
He was taking his time to taunt her before he killed her, but time was what she needed while the poison seeped into his system. She eyed his short, flat sword and calculated the best way to avoid this strikes. “How so?”
Cassius laughed and pulled out a bottle from his belt. He poureda few drops onto the blade and rubbed the liquid along the sharp edges with his tunic. “For starters, didn’t you listen to me when I taught you to always use poison as backup?”
“Who says I didn’t?” As he came closer, she saw the telltale lines of black bleeding out from wounds she inflicted on him earlier. She had chosen a long acting poison for a reason—to give her a chance to wrench a confession from Pontus if necessary. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quick enough to prevent this standoff with Cassius. “Or have you not looked in a mirror lately?”
Cassius stopped and ran his finger along his cheek. His lips twisted into a cold grin. “Then it seems I’ll be following you into the afterlife, but first I get the pleasure of watching you die.” He took a step closer. “You see, I never use the slow-acting poison.”
Azurha drew in a deep, slow breath to keep the fear growing inside the pit of her stomach from seizing control of her. “But I doubt you’ll have time to kill Titus if you wait for me to draw my last breath.”
Cassius laughed again. This time, the sound sent a chill racing down her spine. “Little Rabbit,I wasn’t hired to kill him. Just you.” His sword flashed in the torchlight as it sliced through the air toward her. She rolled to her side, the chain slipping from her sweat-soaked hand, and swiped her leg at Cassius’s ankles.
He stumbled forward but didn’t fall. His smile morphed into a snarl. “So, you’ve already managed to partially free yourself. It will make my story that you attacked me that much more believable.”
“If you live to tell it.”
The words flew from her lips before she had a chance to register what she’d said. Deep inside, though, an iron-willed determination raced through her veins and revitalized her body and spirit. She was the Rabbit, after all—the best assassin in the empire—and it was time her former master learned that painful lesson.
She grasped the chain in her hand and snapped it toward his face like a whip. Cassius staggered back with a yelp, his hand flying to his injured eye. She attacked again, aiming for any vulnerable place on his body she could find. His arms. His legs. His face. He continued to retreat from her onslaught until she could no longer chase him. As hard as she pulled, the chain refused to budge and dug even deeper to the soft flesh of her hand.
Cassius wiped his face and spit blood out of his mouth. His grin now revealeda broken tooth, but that didn’t prevent him from raising his sword again. “Poor Little Rabbit’s reached the end of her leash, eh?”
Azurha tugged once more on the chain in the vain hope that her hand would slip out. Instead,a gasp broke free from her mouth, signaling her failure as clear as any shout.
You’ll never find a knot you can’t unravel.
She mentally screamed at the soothsayer who haunted her thoughts. If ever she needed to find a way to free herself, it was now. She’d beaten Cassius as hard as she could with what weapons she had available, but even the poison slowly working its way through his body wouldn’t stop him. This was more than just a job to him. This was punishment. She’d broken the code, the list of rules he’d taught her over the years, and he wanted to make sure she paid for disobeying him.
He was no different from her old master, she realized when she saw the anger contorting Cassius’s face into an expression she’d witnessed numerous times during her life as a slave. As long as he lived, she would never truly be free.
As soon as she accepted that truth, her role changed. She was back in her master’s old house, bound to the pillars and faced with the decision to continue along this path or to gain her freedom through blood.
And blood would be spilled that day. She may die, but she would die a free woman.
When Cassius’s blade bore down on her again, she held nothing back. He had become her prey.
Her mind raced with a new plan of attack. First, she needed to disarm him. Instead of flinging the chain at his body, she spun around, wrapping the chain around the blade as she avoided his strike. Cassius fell forward, unbalanced, and all it took was a quick tug on her end to yank the sword from his hand. It sailed through the air and landed on the other side of the cell with a hollow clang.
Cassius regained his footing and dove for his weapon. Azurha followed, trying to tackle him before he reached it. The manacle on her wrist kept her from reaching above his ankles. She managed to trip him up but not prevent him from grabbing his weapon. He whipped around with the speed of a viper striking.
A line of fire burned along her side, driving the breath from her lungs. She twisted to avoid the blade sinking deeper into her flesh and ignored the little voice of warning that pealed in her mind. He’d wounded her with a poisoned blade, and her time to save Titus grew short.
As if he smelled her blood, Cassius jumped to his feet like a fully grown lyger in the middle of the hunt. His sword shot out, aiming for her heart, and time seemed to freeze.
Instead of seeing her former mentor’s face twisted with fury, she saw the pain in Titus’s eyes at the Coliseum. I will not die without telling him the truth, she whispered to herself. The pain vanished. Her fear retreated. And she knew what she had to do to kill Cassius.
She darted to the side at the last moment and looped the chain around Cassius’s neck. His forward momentum immediately pulled the chain taut, and a strangled cry punched the air.
The joy of the kill filled Azurha’s heart as soon as she heard it. She maneuvered behind him, taking care to stay out of the reach of his sword, and threw her entire body into the next yank. She listened for the snap of bone, but heard nothing other the hoarse wheeze of air being purged from Cassius’s chest. She’d hoped to break his neck and be done with him, but now she had to settle for slowly strangling the life from his body.
“You are no longer my master,” Azurha hissed in his ear before tightening the chain around his neck.
The sword slipped from Cassius’s hand as he fell to his knees. He clawed at the metal links that collapsed his windpipe and prevented him from sucking in the life-sustaining air he craved. His lips moved, but no sound came out. He tilted his head back and stared at her, silently pleading for her to spare him.
A twinge of compassion tried to worm its way into her heart. He had rescued her from a life of slavery and taught her to become more than she was. He had tried to quit
this business, to disappear into some remote vineyard and try his hand growing grapes rather than covering it with blood. But his past still followed him, reminding her that the only true escape from this business was death.
As his eyes dulled, a quick prayer to the gods spilled forth from her lips, asking them to help Cassius find peace in the afterlife.
His limp body sagged against the chain, and Azurha lowered him to the ground to unwind it from his neck. Even dead, he still managed to make her stomach tighten in apprehension. He’d faked his death before. Was he doing it now?
Never believe someone is dead until you hear his heart stop beating.
A rule that would not be ignored by her. She snatched the sword off the floor and swiped it across his throat. Instead of the normal gush of blood she’d witnessed in the living, his blood oozed from the wound like thickened honey. He was dead, and she could finally close that chapter in her life.
She searched his body for the keys she’d heard when he arrived and found the one that fit the lone manacle. Cassius may be dead, but as long as Pontus lived, Titus was still in danger. She had one more job to complete before the poison took her life.
Chapter 27
Titus stared at Pontus, searching for the lies he knew lurked under the emotionless mask his cousin wore. “You mean you had no idea she was an assassin?”
Pontus pretended to stifle a yawn. “I find this line of questioning rather insulting, coz.”
“You will not use such informal language with me in my throne room.” The booming volume of his order had the desired effect, startling the bored façade from Pontus’s face. Titus curled his fingers around the arms of his throne, narrowing his eyes. “Why did you send her to my palace?”
“How many times do I have to answer this absurd question? The story remains the same. I let it be known that I was searching for a concubine to donate to your harem, and she was the most attractive out of those that responded. Excuse me for not realizing a woman could be an assassin, much less the Rabbit.”
Marcus and Galerius simultaneously cracked their knuckles at Pontus’s sarcastic response. All Titus had to do was give the command, and they’d gladly forget their stations to beat Pontus into a bloody pulp as if they were in a low-end tavern rather than the Imperial throne room.
Titus waited to see if any chink in Pontus’s armor would appear, but none did. He settled back in his throne. “I want to see documentation. Proof to support your story. And please be aware that once Azurha becomes conscious, I’ll be listening very closely to her side of the story.”
A smug grin wormed its way across his cousin’s lips. “If you insist, althoughI doubt you’ll learn much from her.”
Something about Pontus’s arrogance made the hairs on the back of Titus’s neck stand on end. His pulse quickened, and he fought the urge to race down to the prison to check on her. “You’re to be held here at the palace until sufficient documentation is produced to support your story.”
The smug grin fell from his face, and he lowered into a bow. “As Your Imperial Majesty wishes.”
“Captain Galerius, please show Governor Gurges to chambers befitting his station and see that they are appropriately secured.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Two members of the Legion flanked Pontus and led him out of the throne room behind their captain.
Titus inhaled deeply and let his frustration exit his body with his breath. He dreaded the next person he was forced to question. Why had Azurha deceived him? Worse, why had she made him fall in love with her when she was hired to kill him? His heart was so tangled up in the web of lies and lust she’d spun around him, he doubted he could order her execution without killing part of himself in the process.
“Let’s step into the other room for a bit of refreshment,” Marcus whispered and motioned his head toward the side room.
Titus rose and followed his friend, glad to find shelter from the dozens of prying stares that came from the nobles and advisers who packed the throne room. Word had spread quickly throughout Emona that the emperor’s consort was the Rabbit, and now they all seemed eager to discover what fate awaited her.
Varro waited for them in the other room and poured two glasses of chilled wine as soon as the door closed. His expression bore the marks of carefully guarded restraint, something he’d probably perfected over the years of his service to the Imperial Family.
Titus took his glass. “Say it, Varro. You were right to suspect her. Enjoy your moment to scold me like the foolish pup I am.”
“You know I would never do such a thing, Emperor Sergius.” Varro clasped his hands behind his back in a manner that said he would speak nothing more on the matter.
“Then you do it, Marcus.”
His friend choked on the wine he was drinking. He wiped his mouth and cleared his throat. “Me? Why would I scold you?”
“Because you both warned me about her, and like a lust-filled boy, I refused to believe anything bad about her.” He sank into a chair and rubbed his face. “This is what I get for thinking with my dick. I suppose I should be grateful that soldier caught her before she sank that dagger into my heart.”
Varro and Marcus exchanged glances as if each one was daring the other to speak first. Marcus sighed and sat next to him, the obvious loser in the battle of wills. “Yes, we warned you that she was more than she seemed, and we were right, but if she’s truly the Rabbit, she acted out of character.”
Some of the weight lifted from Titus’s soul when he heard that.
“What do you mean?”
“The Rabbit is known for the ability to strike fast—hence, the name. The fact Azurha spent two weeks in your bed and didn’t attempt to kill you once… Well, it doesn’t make sense.”
“Agreed,” Varro said from his station by the tray. “I think we should hear Lady Azurha’s account of these events before we jump to any conclusions.”
Titus closed his eyes, and his heart ached in such a manner that he pressed his fist against his chest. By the gods, she was a killer. I shouldn’t care for her now that I know the truth.
“If you prefer, we can have Galerius do the questioning,” Marcus added.
It wasn’t the questions themselves he dreaded. It was her answers. But if he passed the task to someone else, it would only make him appear weak. He was emperor. This was his throne, and he needed to show his subjects that no one would challenge him for it and escape the consequences. If he failed, he might as well surrender his crown now. “No, I will do the questioning, but later. I need time to sort this out first.”
“Of course, Titus.” Marcus stood and patted him on the back. “We’ll be here if you need us.”
Titus nodded. More of the weight lifted from his shoulders. “I’m going to rest in my chambers. Please dismiss the circus gathered in the throne room. I won’t be questioning her today.”
“Of course, Emperor Sergius.” Varro gave him a curt bow and slipped through the door.
“You shouldn’t do this alone, Titus,” Marcus cautioned. “I saw how much you cared about her—”
“And it was all a lie!” The anger he tried so hard to contain exploded inside him, and he shoved his chair to the side with such force the wood splintered. “Every night, she lay there in my arms, telling me she loved me when all she really wanted to do was kill me and collect her money.”
A sob of pain welled up in his chest. By the gods, he would not let anyone see how much she had wounded him. He pressed his eyes shut and locked his jaw to confine the fury of emotions that stormed inside him. When they finally abated, he whispered, “And I was foolish enough to believe her.”
Marcus rested his hands on Titus’s shoulders, steadying him like two strong oak beams placed to keep a roof from collapsing in a storm. “There’s still a chance she’s innocent.”
“Even if she is, will I be able to trust her?”
Marcus backed away, his usually mirthful blue eyes now solemn. “That’s something only you can decide. I m
eant it when I said that you were no good without her.”
“Maybe, but what good am I when I can’t trust the one person I love the most?”
— —
Azurha ducked into a storage room as soon as she heard the cry of alarm. Her heart pounded, and not even the feeling of cold steel in her hand could soothe it.
They know I’ve escaped.
She pressed her free hand against the burning in her side. Her palm came away wet and sticky with blood. Her pulse quickened. Her minutes were numbered, and here she was, playing a coward.
She peeked around the corner at the members of the Legion who’d run past her hiding place. They stopped in front of the palace entrance, joining their comrades that gathered around the captain under the light of torches and the rising moons. His words were muffled, and she strained to listen to them.
“… was an imposter. Your two brothers who were sent to escort him to the barracks were found dead just a few blocks from the Coliseum…”
So that was how Cassius escaped. She pressed her forehead against the hilt of his sword. If they were searching for him, they wouldn’t have to go far to find him. She’d left his body in her cell. Then their hunt would turn to her.
With everyone’s attention focused on the captain, she tightened her grip on the sword and made a dash for the entrance. She recalled the twists and turns Pontus had guided her through on the way to the throne room. From there, she could easily find her way to Titus’s chambers and warn him.
An eerie silence hung over the palace. The long shadows of twilight bathed the deserted corridors in darkness. Even the slaves were so caught up in the day’s events that they’d failed to light the candles on time. Instead of unnerving her, though, the conditions eased some of the fear from her soul. These were ideal conditions for an assassin, providing the perfect opportunity to slip into the heart of the palace without being noticed.
Once she got to the empty throne room, she clung to the walls like a spider. Her mouth went dry. This was almost too easy, as if she was walking into a trap specifically created to catch her. A Rabbit snare of a different sort.
