Assassin's Blood

by Marina Finlayson

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said in a conversational tone. He flung one hand in my direction, and a blast of icy wind knocked me right off my feet.

  Blue light flashed and the clean scent of his magic filled the room. Everyone’s magic had an individual smell—Willow’s was like walking through a rose garden in full bloom. Mine had the faintest tang of limes, barely noticeable. His smelled like wet grass and the heady aroma of oncoming rain. I rolled across the carpet, only stopping when I was brought up short by something. The servant’s skirts. She continued dusting the bookshelves, taking no more notice of me than she had when I’d held my knife to her throat.

  Books. I staggered to my feet and snatched a book from the shelf, hurling it straight at Ash’s face. I followed that up with another lunge with the knife, hoping to catch him by surprise, but he batted the book from the air almost lazily, then hit me with another arctic blast of his Winter magic, his whole body wreathed in its blue glow. I was more prepared this time and kept my feet, but that was the best I could do. I leaned into the gale, shivering, trying to force my way closer to him.

  “You’re a stubborn little thing.”

  “Big enough to take you down.” Empty threats. I had no comeback against his magic.

  He smiled, a lazy smile that said he knew he’d won, and I saw red. All my life, fae had looked down on me because of my lack of magic.

  Without thinking, I flicked the knife straight at his heart. It was a good throw, and it should have brought him to his knees, but the Winter wind sent it spinning through the air. It lodged itself harmlessly in the spine of an old book.

  I was shivering so hard I could barely stand, and I definitely couldn’t feel my fingers anymore. The rainy scent of his magic filled the air as the wind buffeted me unceasingly, its icy fingers tearing at my skin. I staggered, trying to keep my feet.

  It was no use; I was driven to my knees.

  He sauntered across to the bookcase and prised his knife from the book as he let the magic fade. “Look what you’ve done to this book. Fortunately, it’s only Foramund’s Treatise on Herbal Remedies. I never liked that one anyway.”

  Then, he swept me up from the carpet and into his arms, and carried me from the room.

  15

  I was still shivering when we entered Celebrach’s study, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. Celebrach sat in a chair by the fire, a book in his lap, and in my present state, that fire looked like the best thing I had ever seen. I wanted to climb right into it, sure that that was the only way I would ever feel warm again.

  Celebrach raised an eyebrow as he closed the book with a snap. “Back so soon, Ashovar? You’re eager.”

  “No need to wait until dawn. I’ve made up my mind.”

  Ash set me down, giving me a gentle push towards the heat of the fireplace, then closed the door behind us. I stumbled to a stop as close to the fire as I could get and faced Celebrach.

  “Don’t keep us all in suspense, then,” the Lord said. “What is your decision?”

  Ash gave me a long, considering look with those hard, grey eyes. I had no clue as to the thoughts that lay behind them. “Apprentice.”

  A small sigh of relief escaped me, the only sound in the room apart from the soft crackle of the fire.

  Celebrach eyed me with keen interest. “Well, well, we haven’t had a new apprentice in some time. You are a fortunate young woman. I really thought the decision would go the other way.” He transferred his mocking gaze to Ash. “So much for your vow never to take on an apprentice.”

  Ash stiffened but didn’t reply.

  “What happens now?” I asked.

  Celebrach smiled. “Eager to get to work, are you? You have a bloodthirsty one on your hands here, Ashovar. Best watch your back.”

  “I always do.”

  Celebrach laughed, went to the polished bookcase behind the desk, and took down the curious warped blade from its ceremonial stand. “Then we’d better not keep the young lady waiting.”

  Ash took my arm and urged me across the room to stand in front of the desk. I’d stopped shivering, but I was still freezing. The warmth of his hand felt like a burn. How could he feel so warm when his magic was so cold?

  I shrugged him off. “I can walk on my own, thanks.”

  Celebrach tapped the dagger against his open palm as he watched us both. “I can see you will have your hands full with this one.”

  Ash’s voice was cool. “I don’t anticipate any problems.”

  Celebrach came around the desk, and I eyed the dagger with misgiving. Up close, there was something about it that raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

  “Give me your hand.”

  I glanced at Ash, but his face was an impassive mask. What was this? Some kind of ceremony, I assumed. Were we going to become blood brothers? Unless this was some elaborate ruse to lull me into a false sense of security and then kill me anyway. I kept my hands at my sides.

  Celebrach’s mocking smile only grew wider. “Not very trusting, is she? Ashovar, if you please …”

  With a muttered oath, Ash took my wrist in a firm grip and held it out to Celebrach. “Keep still,” he growled at me.

  “What is your name?” Celebrach asked.

  “Sage.”

  “Sage what?”

  “Forester,” Ash said before I could reply.

  I held Celebrach’s gaze, willing myself to show no reaction. Why had Ash lied? His body was rigid beside me. I dared not turn my head to look at his face, though I doubted I would find answers there anyway. Did he just not want to admit that he didn’t know? Fae pride could be a funny thing.

  “Sage Forester,” Celebrach said. He took my wrist and turned it over, exposing the vulnerable veins on the underside. “Tonight, you join the ranks of the Night Vipers.”

  He drew the twisted blade lightly across my skin.

  It was so sharp that, for a moment, I felt nothing. Then, a thin line of blood welled in the blade’s wake and ice bit into my skin. More Winter magic? Strange. From my previous encounter with the Lord of the Vipers, when he’d stopped my bullet in mid-air, I’d assumed his powers were of Air.

  He laid the flat of the blade over the blood, and it felt as if he’d dunked my whole hand in an ice bath. Ash’s grip on my arm tightened as I swallowed. He must have felt the involuntary twitch as I tried to pull away from the pain.

  Was that a faint blue light coming from the blade? I stared, distracted by voices in the distance. Someone laughed in the corridor outside; someone else was crying softly just on the edge of hearing. My vision narrowed until all I could see was the icy glow of the twisted dagger.

  There was a strange ringing in my ears, and the voices grew louder, arguing with each other, but I couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. Neither of the men reacted—was I the only one who could hear them?

  Then, Celebrach removed the knife and only silence reverberated inside my skull.

  Both he and Ash let go, and I rubbed my wrist, which still ached with a bone-deep chill. But there was no mark, no blood, nothing to show where the blade had bitten. I clasped my other hand around my chilled and aching wrist and waited for whatever came next.

  To my surprise, Ash held out his own wrist. I flicked a curious glance at his face; there was a strange look there. Not fear, surely? Perhaps revulsion? But he realised I was watching him and smoothed his expression.

  I felt sure Celebrach hadn’t noticed. He was focused on the taut flesh of Ash’s wrist, drawing the twisted knife across tanned skin—slowly, ever so slowly, as if he wished to prolong the moment. Blood welled behind the blade, and there was a flash of blue light. I flinched, caught by surprise, but Ash stood firm, his arm held straight out.

  My wrist buzzed with an odd sensation, as if the muscles beneath the skin were jumping. Or as if something was trapped under there—a tiny insect, perhaps, trying to batter its way free on frantic wings. A faint whisper hissed around my ears. Was there someone outside? If Celebrach or Ash heard a
nything, they gave no sign.

  Celebrach turned to replace the blade in its cradle with loving hands, and Ash glared at the back of his head as if he hoped to drill straight through the man’s brains with the force of his gaze.

  Something stirred in the shadows behind Celebrach, and the whisper came again, but when I looked closer, there was nothing there. Only normal shadows cast by the flickering firelight. And surely no one in their right mind would be whispering in the corridors of the Night Vipers, disturbing their lord and master? Certainly not any of those dead-eyed servants.

  I felt a little light-headed, as if the twisted blade had drunk far more of my blood than that little taste, and the ache in my wrist had built up into a bone-deep chill that sapped the strength from my arm.

  I’d been awake all night; that was all it was. Simple lack of sleep, combined with the stress of not knowing my fate. It was enough to have anyone jumping at shadows and imagining voices where there were none.

  Celebrach turned back to me and offered a cool smile. “Welcome to the Vipers. You will report to Ashovar. Make sure you live up to his high standards.”

  “Can I have my weapons back?”

  The smile broadened into genuine amusement. “Perhaps not just yet. Ashovar has proven his commitment to you, but you still need to prove yours to us. And make no mistake, Sage, disloyalty will not be tolerated. There are no disappointing apprentices among the Vipers. Only dead ones.”

  The grey light of pre-dawn lay flat across the training field and trees as we left the building. I walked at Ash’s side, apparently free, though Celebrach’s final words rang in my ears.

  “Your boss needs to work on his welcome speech,” I said when the silence became too much for me. “No disappointing apprentices—only dead ones. Way to make a girl feel welcome.”

  He bared his teeth in that humourless expression that seemed to pass for a smile with him. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy the welcome party later.”

  “There’s a party?”

  “No.” His voice was flat, as cold as the chill grey light. I could barely make out his profile: the clenched jaw, the downward turn of his mouth. “Do you think you’ve joined a country club? Or come to Whitehaven? We are the Night Vipers, not a pleasure palace.”

  I shrugged, determined not to be intimidated by his cold stare. “Doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun now and then. All work and no play make Jack a dull boy, as they say.”

  “As who says? The humans? You’d do well to keep your human ways to yourself as much as possible. Your heritage already works against you.”

  Hot anger flooded my chilled body. “You may as well save your breath, because you won’t make me ashamed of my mother.”

  A strained silence fell. I wanted to treat him to the cold shoulder, but I could already tell that my silence would be no penance for him. So, I changed tack. I was here for a purpose, after all. Might as well find out as much as I could about the Night Vipers. Any little detail could be the one thing that brought them down.

  “Why haven’t you had an apprentice before?”

  He didn’t answer, so I tried again.

  “So, what’s involved in an assassin’s apprenticeship?” Maybe it would be like potions class at Hogwarts, mixing up deadly drops for the poor victims. Although, feeding poison to the client who stooped to hiring assassins would suit me better.

  He walked faster so that I had to hurry to keep up with his longer legs. Was he hoping I would run out of breath for talking? He was doomed to disappointment if so. “First, we’ll run you through a few weapons and see what you can do.”

  He made me sound like a car he was taking for a test drive, one that he didn’t have very high hopes for. He might be surprised to discover there was no rust on this bodywork. I still remembered all Dandelion’s training, back when I was a bored young thing with too much energy in the gardens of Spring and the kindly guard had taken me in hand. It was he who had taught me the bow and staff and how to place a throwing knife exactly where you wanted it. I’d never been able to beat the burly guard in a fist fight, but once I’d arrived in the mortal world, I’d discovered the joys of martial arts, so I might even have a surprise or two up my sleeve for Ash.

  “And then?” I prompted when he seemed disinclined to add anything further. Assassins were a tight-lipped lot, that was for sure. I’d be playing Twenty Questions all night trying to get any information out of this guy. “If this is going to be my life for the next however long, I’d like to know what to expect.”

  He shot me a hard glance without breaking stride. “It’s not as though you have any choice in the matter. You’ll have plenty of time to learn your new duties.”

  We marched across the training grounds and into the building from which I’d so recently escaped. Stopping in the front room where all the wooden practice weapons lined the walls, he selected a short sword.

  “This should be about the right length for you.” He tossed it to me, and I caught it one-handed.

  “Swords aren’t really my thing.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” he said without looking at me. He selected a sword for himself and two staves.

  I followed him out to the training ground, giving my new sword a couple of experimental swishes. He set the staves aside and took up his own sword, assuming a ready stance, balancing lightly on the balls of his feet. Remembering Dandelion’s lessons, I did the same and circled warily as he began to move.

  “It’s hardly a fair fight, considering how much longer your reach is than mine,” I pointed out.

  His eyes gleamed, no doubt in amusement at my expense. My new instructor didn’t seem to enjoy anything as much as other people’s pain. “Life isn’t fair. You must understand that if you are to become a Viper.”

  In the middle of speaking, he lashed out with his sword, and I only just got mine up in time. The wooden blades clashed together, and I felt the impact jar all the way up my arm. He was strong—much stronger than me—and I wouldn’t be able to fend off too many blows like that before my arm was completely numbed.

  I watched even more carefully for any warning that he was about to strike again. Dandelion had always said that a man fights with his eyes; you must watch the eyes and the rest will follow. But Ash’s steel gaze gave nothing away. In an instant, his sword was moving again, but this time I ducked and rolled, avoiding the blow. I bounced back to my feet, pleased that I’d managed to evade him.

  “You move well but, in fact, if you end up in a sword fight, you have already failed as a Viper. We work in the shadows, dealing death unseen.”

  “Then why are we doing this?” I panted as the tip of his sword sailed past a hair’s breadth from my face.

  “Because you want to be an assassin.” He landed a hard blow on my shoulder, and I stumbled back. Already, sweat was gathering in my hair and rolling down between my breasts. I’d thought I was fit, but the man was a machine; he barely seemed to be breathing hard. “And, thus, you must develop lightning-fast reflexes and the fitness of a warrior.”

  I took my sword in both hands, my arms shaking with the unaccustomed effort, and darted in, feinting a blow to his right. But as he moved to block me, my leg shot out to hook around the back of his.

  I wasn’t sure exactly what happened. He should have ended up on his back in the dirt, but somehow, it was me lying on the ground, staring up at him with the wind knocked out of me. Again.

  He rested his sword point on the ground and stared down at me. “You’re right. The sword is not your forte.” He walked away and picked up the two staves. “Get up. We’ll see how you do with this.”

  I scrambled to my feet, resenting his dismissive attitude. I’d warned him, hadn’t I? My side throbbed where the practice sword had hit me. He certainly hadn’t pulled that blow.

  I caught the staff he threw to me and twirled it experimentally, getting a feel for its weight. This was one of my better weapons. I settled into a ready stance. This time, I’d wipe the sneer from his face.r />
  He didn’t waste any time, coming at me with his staff spinning so fast it was a blur. Mine rose to meet his in the familiar dance. As the wooden poles clacked against each other, I settled into a rhythm. How many times had I done this with Dandelion over the years? More than I could ever hope to count. If Ash thought to find me as weak with the staff as with the sword, he was in for a surprise.

  Soon, I had the satisfaction of watching a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face. Now he was working. I circled and spun, my feet kicking up puffs of dirt as I surged backward and forward, my staff whirling about my head, rising to meet his.

  I even managed to land a blow to his shoulder, though it glanced off as he danced away. But clearly it hurt his pride, as he renewed the attack with such ferocity that I realised he’d been holding back before. Soon after, his staff cracked against my knuckles and mine went flying.

  He held the point of his weapon against my throat. We stared at each other, both breathing hard.

  Slow clapping came from behind me. I hadn’t even realised we had an audience, so intent had I been on the battle. It was Mezzi and a woman I hadn’t seen before, both dressed in what I was coming to think of as the assassins’ uniform of basic black. The woman’s hair was as red as Willow’s, but she kept it in a sleek high bun. Probably to keep it out of the way. She had the hard look of someone who considered practicalities like that.

  “She almost had you there,” she said, but there was no approval for me in her tone, only censure that Ash had allowed himself to be tested by his new apprentice.

  Ash said nothing but dropped his staff to strip off his shirt. There was a mark on his shoulder where I’d hit him with the staff that looked like it would turn into a nasty bruise. The sculpted planes of his chest glistened with sweat. He looked like Mr January from a firefighters’ calendar—only without the smile.

  “At least she’s not completely useless,” he said to the woman in a tone that made clear how very far from satisfied he was with my abilities.