Assassin's Blood

by Marina Finlayson

  We stopped in front of the high table, like two kids called before the principal. I eyed the warped dagger uneasily. I hoped there would be no more ceremonial cutting involved. I got a chill through my veins just thinking about the last time.

  But Celebrach’s only weapon on this occasion appeared to be a quill. He dipped it into a pot of ink that another servant offered and wrote my name halfway down a page that was yellowed with age, at the bottom of a list of other names. Sage Forester. His handwriting was large, and he ended with a flourish. All the other names on the page had been entered in the same writing. I wondered how long it had been since the last apprentice had been added, but there were no dates.

  More whispering rose nearby, but I didn’t see anyone’s mouth move. The seated Adepts all watched solemnly, even Nuah, though she looked a little bored and her gaze strayed to Ash, who still loomed at my side.

  Celebrach handed him the quill next, and the whisper came again, even closer. It sounded as though someone was standing right behind me, leaning close to whisper in my ear.

  The hairs rose on the back of my neck. It was clear enough to make out what was being whispered. The same word over and over again. The long hiss of the s, followed by the vowel sound rolling around the mouth.

  “Sssssage.”

  I bit my lip as Ash signed in the column for Adept. Was it my imagination, or was that the faintest stirring of air on my bare neck, like someone’s breath? But there was no one behind me.

  What was the matter with me? I wasn’t the type to imagine spooky shit. Sure, magic was real, and the truth really was stranger than fiction sometimes, but I didn’t believe in ghosts and I didn’t jump at shadows. I glanced up at the stained-glass windows, hoping to see if there was a wind outside—perhaps that was the whisper I heard. But the creepy killer plants blocked any view of the outside world, and I averted my gaze from the suffering of the doomed rabbits.

  Ash handed me the quill, and I dipped it in the ink, hoping it wouldn’t drip all over the page. Although it would be fun to see Celebrach’s face if I ruined his precious roll, I wasn’t here to annoy the Vipers. I was here to take them down, and right now, that goal was best served by keeping a low profile.

  I solemnly signed my name—or rather, the name that Ash had given me—next to his. Sage Forester. And there was only a little blot at the beginning of the f.

  “A toast to our newest recruit,” Celebrach said as I replaced the quill in its stand.

  A silent servant with a drinks tray appeared at Ash’s side. Ash took a glass and handed one to me. A rich, fruity smell rose from the glass, unexpectedly sweet and summery in this gloomy place.

  “Sage Forester,” Celebrach continued. “May you add to the fame and fortune of this Nest.”

  “Sage Forester,” the other Vipers echoed in unison, raising their glasses to me.

  I lifted mine and drank in return, since no response seemed to be expected.

  They wouldn’t know what hit them. I would burn this nest of vipers to the ground and grind their charred bodies beneath my heel. They would wish they’d never heard the name Sage Forester.

  17

  After dinner, we stepped outside into the bright sunshine. It was ten o’clock in the morning and my body clock was completely screwed. Having been awake for over twenty-four hours, I craved sleep, yet here it was, bright daylight. Fortunately for me, sleep seemed to be the next thing on the agenda.

  We didn’t speak as we headed back to Ash’s little house. A pigeon leapt up from the bushes beside the path with a whir of wings as we passed, and I was so tired I barely reacted. A body can only be on high alert for so long, and mine was done. Ash could murder me in my sleep and I wouldn’t even stir.

  I went straight to my room and lay down—and then, of course, my mind started buzzing with all I’d seen and learned. There were so many new faces, new dangers, and new buildings. I was gradually constructing a map of the whole complex in my mind, ready to lay before the king. Already, I had more information on the elusive assassins than anyone outside their number had ever had before. Even Raven would be impressed.

  I rolled over, burying my face in the cool pillow. Raven might be impressed, but he’d never show it. He was far more likely to make a joke of it. Or act as if he hadn’t even noticed I was gone. Anything was possible with him.

  He was hard to read, but I was willing to bet he was worried by now, even if he wouldn’t show it. Willow would be frantic. I got a sick feeling in my stomach thinking about it, and rolled onto my back again, staring up at the ceiling in exasperation. I should be sleeping, not fretting about my friends.

  What had they done when I didn’t come home? I hoped Raven hadn’t said anything to the king—that would be embarrassing. The king had bigger things to worry about than what some random half-fae was up to. Like dealing with his recalcitrant family.

  At least Lily was someone else’s problem for now. Poor Willow probably didn’t even have time to worry about me. She’d be too busy managing the princess.

  I felt better for a moment, until I thought of Zinnia. Zinnia would be worried. She fussed over Willow and me like a mother hen. I bit my lip, hating that I’d caused her more pain.

  Now that I’d been officially added to their number, was I assassin enough for the gate to let me out of the sith? I had more than enough information for the king. If I could get home now, Zinnia’s fears could be set to rest.

  I lay there for a moment, considering the problem. Celebrach had bled me with his creepy dagger; he’d entered my name in the rolls and welcomed me to the happy little Viper gang. Surely that should be enough? Or was there something more? It wasn’t as though I could ask Ash, but all this ceremony seemed as though it should do the trick.

  The ceiling blurred as my eyelids sagged shut. With a goal decided on, my mind was settling, and exhaustion was creeping in. I pulled out my phone. It was useless here for most things, but I could still set an alarm. I gave myself five hours. If I woke at three, everyone else should still be asleep, giving me a chance to sneak around and check whether the gate would let me out. Now that I was an apprentice Viper instead of an intruder, the wards shouldn’t alert Celebrach to what I was doing. And then it would be goodbye, Vipers; hello, vengeance.

  Satisfied, I fell into a deep sleep.

  When the alarm went off, I thought I must have set it wrong—it felt as though I’d only been asleep for moments. But no, it was three o’clock in the afternoon.

  Groaning, I rubbed my eyes. What wouldn’t I give for a cup of coffee right now? Maybe even two. Despite the austerity of the house, the bed was ridiculously comfortable, and I could have slept the clock around.

  Not that Ash would let me. He probably had plans to boot me out of bed the instant the sun set. Hopefully, I’d be long gone by then.

  I sat up and ran a hand through my short hair. Too tired to change, I’d fallen asleep in my clothes, so I only had to pull my boots back on. I stood up, blinking to clear the sleep from my eyes, then tiptoed to the door.

  It made no noise as I eased it open. The hall was dim; Ash must have drawn all the blinds. I stood and listened to the quiet for a moment. The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the lounge room wall. Ash’s bedroom door was ajar, and I crossed to it on silent feet.

  The assassin lay sprawled face down, one muscled arm flung across his pillow. The sheet only covered him below the waist, showing he slept at least topless, if not naked.

  His hard expression had softened in sleep, making him look more … I don’t know … approachable? Human? No, not that. He was fae, as the impossible beauty of that chiselled jaw and sharp cheekbones reminded me. And more than that, a fae who went around killing others. It didn’t get much colder than that.

  I sneaked down the hallway to the front door, wondering what assassins dreamed about. More killing? Or did they have the same kind of nonsensical dreams as the rest of us?

  The door creaked as I cracked it open, spilling sunlight across the hardwo
od floor. I froze, holding my breath, but there was no sound from the bedroom. Just in case, I slipped out into the fresh air and closed it behind me with agonising slowness. I swear suns could have grown old and died in the time it took me to ease that door shut, but it worked—it didn’t creak again. There was only the slightest of clicks as the latch engaged, and then I was free.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, I strode down the path—and nearly had a heart attack when the door was wrenched open again with the mother of all creaks behind me. I spun around.

  Ash stood in the doorway, blinking a little in the sun, wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else. “Where are you going?”

  The sunlight caught the hairs on his chest and turned them golden. His skin was dusted with gold, too, as if he spent a lot of time working on his tan. His legs were thick with muscle. No wonder the bastard had been able to run me down.

  I jerked my eyes back to his face, aware that my inspection of his body had taken a little too long, and felt my own skin heating.

  “Just … just going for a walk.” Dammit, why did he have to be such a light sleeper? “I couldn’t sleep.”

  He frowned, though I couldn’t tell whether it was a frown of disbelief or just his habitual expression of vague annoyance with the world. “Come back inside and I’ll mix you a sleeping potion.”

  I snorted. “Excuse me if I don’t fancy drinking a potion made for me by an assassin.”

  The frown grew more serious, leaving me in no doubt that he was pissed off. He held the door open wider and stepped aside in an unmistakeable gesture. “Inside. Now.”

  “Sorry,” I said ungraciously as I squeezed past him. The fresh, clean smell of ironbark clung to him like a forest damp with dew, and his bare skin was still warm from bed where my arm brushed against him. I could have sworn he’d been fast asleep. That damn creaking door. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “We are linked. I will always know where you are.” He shut the door behind us, closing us inside in sudden darkness.

  “We are? How?”

  “The ceremony with the Blade.”

  He pushed past me into the lounge room, and I followed, uneasy. The last thing I wanted was some kind of Viper homing device on me. Having an assassin always know where I was could prove fatal.

  “What do you mean?”

  He poured himself a drink from the vast array of bottles on the sideboard, then moved to stand in front of the fireplace. The fire was nearly out, and the room was chilly. Maybe he should go put some more clothes on. I found his near nakedness disturbing. Day two of my apprenticeship and he was already so casual in front of me? If he thought I would be one of those apprentices with benefits, he was in for a major disappointment.

  “When the Blade drank from you, you became part of the Nest.” He gave me an impatient glance, as if I should already know this. Why? Did I look like a mind reader? “We are all connected.”

  I stared at him, horrified. “You mean everyone knows where I am?”

  “No. Only the Master of the Blade and the Adept you have been bound to.”

  I remembered the magic that had flared around him after Celebrach had cut me, when the twisted dagger had been laid against Ash’s skin. Had that been when this magical link had been forged? I didn’t like the sound of being “bound” to him. That implied a lot more of a commitment than I was up for.

  “Who’s the Master of the Blade? Celebrach?” I was pretty sure of the answer, but I had to check.

  “Lord Celebrach,” Ash said, reproof clear in his voice.

  What else did this magical link do? And did it work both ways? “Do I get to know where you are?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Because I am the Adept and you are the apprentice.”

  Well, that sucked. “If you expect me to call you Adept Ashovar, you’re in for a disappointment.”

  He took a long swallow, then fixed me with a hard look. “I don’t expect you to call me Adept anything. What I expect is the tiniest smidgen of gratitude for saving your life.”

  The silence lengthened. “Sorry,” I said finally. “I am grateful, of course. I’ll try not to be too much of an imposition.”

  A muscle jumped in his cheek. He turned back to the dying fire, so I couldn’t see his face. “I never wanted an apprentice, but I’ve just committed years of my life to training you. I don’t think you understand exactly how much of an imposition you are going to be.”

  I blanched at years. No, that would never happen. And then I had another thought. “You … you can’t change your mind, can you?” He sounded as though he was regretting the decision to let me live. Could he take it back?

  “Make no mistake, Sage, your life is in my hands.” He glanced at me, his grey eyes cool. “As mine is in yours.”

  Say what? I did a doubletake, half-expecting to see a joking grin, but of course he was as hard-faced as ever.

  “What do you mean, your life is in my hands?”

  “As your instructor, I’m responsible for your behaviour. If you betray us or break any of our laws, both our lives will be forfeit.”

  Oh, shit. It was a struggle to hold his gaze. “That hardly seems fair.”

  Inside, my brain was yammering protests at me. What kind of bullshit policy was that? But I couldn’t be responsible for his life. I wouldn’t. He was still an assassin, even if he’d saved my life. Normal rules of gratitude couldn’t apply here. He was the enemy, and I must never forget it.

  “Fairness is for weaklings. Here, loyalty is valued above everything. We are Vipers first, and everything else is second to that. No other loyalties.”

  He tossed back his drink, a look of such bleakness on his face it made me wonder what loyalties he’d given up to become a Viper. And why he’d done it, if it made him look like that. What was the appeal of joining the assassins?

  “You will work hard, and you will accept whatever punishments or orders your betters choose to give you. Some of them, you may consider unfair. You will accept them anyway.” He stared down at his glass, as if surprised to find it empty. “And if you can’t sleep, you may begin your studies. Chapter one of Foramund. Memorise and recite to me tonight.”

  He turned his back again, making it clear that I was dismissed. I left him alone with the dying fire and his collection of bottles, and returned to my room.

  18

  Since sneaking past Ash wasn’t an option, I lay down again, too tired to undress, and was soon asleep.

  My dreams were feverish things, full of assassins and shadows that moved and spoke. Celebrach’s twisted dagger was in them, too, though it belonged to me and no longer seemed creepy. The ruby on its hilt was a thing of beauty, and the strange blade was no longer distorted but artful. When my hand closed around the hilt, I felt only peace and a warm sense of security. With this blade at my side, I couldn’t help but defeat my enemies. Even Evandir and Nuah bowed before me, their faces full of admiration. And Ash …

  Bloody hell. I woke up, horrified at what I’d just been doing with my cold instructor. Except, in the dream, he hadn’t been cold at all. My heart still raced, and when I touched my mouth, I discovered my hand was shaking. His kiss had felt so real I swore I still felt the pressure of his lips on mine.

  I sat up, unnerved. It must have been because I’d seen him half-naked. Why wouldn’t I have dreamed of him after that? Only a dead woman could fail to appreciate the beauty of a body like his. My subconscious clearly had lower standards than I did—little details like morality or even personality didn’t matter to it, only his pure physical desirability.

  Well, I was awake now, and that was just not on. I threw off my blanket, then stopped, surprised. I’d fallen asleep sprawled on top of my blankets, in the middle of telling myself I’d get up in just a minute and get ready for bed properly. I hadn’t even taken off my boots. But now they were on the floor, set neatly side by side, and someone had spread a thick woollen blanket over me while I slept.r />
  That someone must have been Ash, bizarre as that seemed. It was such a nurturing thing to do—and nurturing was the very last adjective I would have picked to describe the cold-eyed assassin.

  I shrugged it off and pulled my boots back on. I had more to worry about than trying to understand the inner workings of my instructor’s mind.

  It was full dark outside, so it must be time for apprentice training to commence. My body still ached from last night’s hammering. Maybe he’d go a little easier on me tonight.

  He came in from outside as I left my bedroom and grunted when he saw me. “You’re awake.” He made it sound as if I’d been asleep for days. “Are you ready to demonstrate your studies?”

  It took me a minute to realise what he meant. I’d almost forgotten he’d told me to read a chapter of Foramund. “I fell asleep after all.”

  And you covered me with a blanket.

  He seemed displeased with that answer. “A Viper doesn’t sleep until all his chores are completed.”

  “Or hers.”

  He treated me to that icy glare, and it occurred to me belatedly that maybe I shouldn’t start the night by antagonising him. Especially if he was going to be my sparring partner again.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “Two chapters by tomorrow. Eat breakfast; we have other things to do first.”

  A tray of fruits and nuts and a small bowl of honey were waiting on the dining table next to half a loaf of dark, grainy bread. I assumed he must have eaten already, as there was only one plate. I sighed and sat down to eat, thinking rather longingly of Zinnia’s eggs and bacon and other breakfast treats, all so perfectly cooked. Maybe the Vipers hated the world because they were forced to live off fruit and nuts.

  We began the evening at the training grounds, where I practised my archery and managed to impress Ash at last. Well, impress was probably too strong a word. But his lips didn’t thin in the disappointed way they’d done yesterday, so I was calling that a win. I doubted he could manage actual pleasure or approval.