Page 6 of Courting the Tiger King

A trellis clung to the side of the manor, leading from the ground to the middle of the wall, just a small amount of space away from the window she knew led to Zennon’s bedroom.

The wood creaked slightly under foot as Neah climbed, the small vines beneath her palms saving her from the worst of the splinters, and when she reached the top she eyed the distance between the trellis and the window ledge.

She could make that. She hoped.

Not giving herself time to chicken out or worry, Neah launched herself from the trellis and gripped the edges of the stone sill with her bare hands as she painstakingly lifted herself up until she could swing a leg onto the ledge. It was just big enough for her to crouch and she frowned when she tried the window and found it unlocked. Making a mental note to yell at Zennon later, Neah assessed the room’s interior. She shouldn’t have been able to break in so easily.

The window had opened soundlessly and Neah slipped inside the room, the familiar scent of sage, lavender, and honey filling her senses and relaxing her somewhat.

It was dark inside, and the house was quiet, only the gentle breathing of the figure beneath the covers making a sound.

Neah crept closer, the plush rug beneath her feet muffling her steps until she stood over the bed and found Zennon safe.

Then she clamped a hand over her best friend’s face to muffle any noise she might make when she awoke. Zennon had a tendency to swing first and think later.

Brown eyes flashed open, alarm making the whites of Zennon’s eyes stand out before recognition lit her face.

Neah touched her free hand to her own mouth and Zennon nodded, agreeing to the silence as Neah sat down on the edge of her bed.

“Where are your guards?” she said quietly, the words barely a breath as she murmured them into Zennon’s ear. If her friend had been a shifter like Neah then she would have heard her clearly without Neah leaning down, but, as it was, Zennon was human and therefore more limited.

Zennon’s dark brows drew together, telling Neah everything she needed to know. Whatever had happened to the guards hadn’t been planned. Had someone known Neah was coming here and tried to head her off? But then, why wait until she was inside the house? Why not attack in the forest? Or the town?

Neah stood and Zennon started to follow, swinging her long legs out from beneath the sheets before Neah held up a hand and shook her head.

Nearly imperceptible footsteps vibrated the wooden floor and Neah slipped underneath the space of Zennon’s bed as the other girl sank back down and feigned sleep.

The door opened, a shadow filling the doorway visible only from the gleam of steel on either side of their hips.

What the Hel was going on?

Neah tensed, watching the figure come closer. The sing of their blade as it was removed from the holster at their side sent goosebumps over her skin and she could only assume the figure was human, otherwise they might have sensed the second heartbeat thundering in the room.

They closed the last of the distance and Neah readied herself.

The mattress moved. The figure grunted, and Neah swept her legs out and under the assassin. She was on her feet in moments and pinned the figure to the ground by shoving their own dagger down with force until it embedded through their thigh and into the floor beneath.

They screamed, the tenor clearly male, and Neah had a moment of smugness as she glimpsed the blood crusted around the white skin of his nose where Zennon had taken him by surprised and socked him.

It was a fleeting feeling though, because that was when his friends joined the fun.

Two had swords and another favoured daggers, and Neah was baffled. Why on earth would someone send four assassins to attack a human noble?

“You have some explaining to do,” she muttered to Zennon as she stripped the wounded assassin of his remaining weapons and handed them to her friend. She wasn’t a shifter, but Zennon could hold her own with a sword at least.

The other woman accepted the blade with a grim nod and Neah placed a foot to the throat of the man on the floor as he struggled to get up with his pinned leg.

“Now, we can be civilised about this,” Neah said, eyes on the newcomers. “Or you can die. You decide.” Neah assessed the three remaining assassins as the one beneath her boot squirmed. Their faces were partially covered with a strip of cloth but their eyes were visible as they looked between each other and stepped forward as one. “Death it is,” she said, bringing her foot down with force and not flinching as the assassin’s neck snapped.

This particularly enraged one of the assassins with the sword and he growled, amber eyes glowing as he stepped forward and then widening as he looked down at the dagger in his chest. Neah lowered her hand and stepped forward to retrieve his sword before he could hit the ground. His eyes had been a dead give away of his shifter heritage and it was better to dispose of the biggest threat quickly and efficiently. He hadn’t even seen her take his friend’s blade.

Zennon traded blows with the other daggered assassin and Neah forced herself to focus on the one who had her in his sights, rather than fretting over her friend.Zennon would be fine.

Her borrowed sword swung effortlessly in her grip, well-balanced if a little heavier than she would have liked, and she nodded to the other assassin. “Shall we?”

He darted toward her, swinging the blade with precision and a strength that surprised her until she saw the gold of his eyes, matching her own. In the shadows of the room, she’d missed the tell-tale colour. Another shifter. Fuck.

Their blades clashed and she met him blow for blow, faltering slightly when his strength dwarfed hers and her arm shook as she defended against him. He moved with grace, his footsteps never hesitating, like he had formal training much like she did. So she took a risk.

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