Page 33 of An Assassin's Death
Then his smooth voice resounds through the walls like the voice of god himself is commanding me.
“Good morning, my Hunters and Huntresses.”
A knowing sort of feeling starts to tangle through my stomach. Old floor boards whine beneath my stalking steps as I take my time following the echoing trail of his voice.
The lighting down the long hall becomes dimmer and dimmer with every step I take. Warped wood paneling surrounds me. I pause just outside the door. A single breath is all I allow myself before I push it open, my head held high as a few darting glances pass my way.
Until his silver eyes land on me.
“Ahhh, thank you for joining us, Hart.” His long fingers clasp together. He stands tall on the front stage, high above the hundreds of assassins before me. “I’m so happy that you took a moment to remember where your loyalties lie.”
The fear racing through my heart demands that I run the other way, but the facade that I’ve lived for so long remains perfectly in place. The traitorous sound of my hesitant steps against the flooring is the only noise when I trail among my peers to the powerful man waiting for me. There’s a gleam in his eyes. A dangerous and hungry gleam that should say everything. And still I walk forward.
My chin tilts as I look up at him from my place at his feet.
“My confidants tell me a young man has been visiting you at the darkest hours of the night.”
The darkest hours of the night? His flair for the dramatics doesn’t go unnoticed by me. Not that I’ll be commenting on it.
“Have you found solace in the enemy? A love to have but never again to hold?” His head tilts just slightly, his eyes narrow on me and the sound of my slamming heartbeat fills my ears but I keep my features smooth. Vacant even.
“The target is clever. Mason Bothwell caught me tracking him.” The lies fall from my lips on a steady breath. “When I escaped with barely my life, he came after me. He followed me here. He was a threat to us all.” My tone carries among my peers and I’m sure to look out at the crowd of them as if their safety and mine is one in the same. “I killed him before any harm could ever come to my family here.”
I don’t even allow myself a calming breath as I look up with nothing but obedience in my eyes. Armond’s thin lips pull into a low grimace.
I’ve fucked up.
He lowers himself and the smooth material of his slacks crease as he crouches lower to meet my gaze.
The clipped words he speaks next slices fear right through my heart.
“Then tell me how he ended up in your rooms once again this morning.”
There’s no time. There’s no time to react. His power slams into me. Without even touching me the force of his power pushes me to my knees and then flat against the floor. He drains me slowly. He pulls at my life and my magic at the slowest torturing pace. I can physically feel it tearing away at my body.
“This is what happens to us when one of our own chooses love over the higher power.” The casual tone of his voice is the opposite to the searing pain he’s inflicting on my insides.
It rips through me as I lie quietly on my stomach, staring out at the white particles of dust that line the dark floorboards. I can’t seem to make a sound. A part of me considers just letting go. Fading out into the blackness that presses at the edges of my sight.
But a more dominant part of me wants to correct him. I want to scream down his throat until the message is entirely clear to everyone in this room.
I didn’t do any of this for love. There is a greater sentiment than love, and that’s survival. I don’t love Mason. I barely tolerate Jameson. I loathe Rory. I almost— almost— respect Tylin.
But love has nothing to do with mydisloyalty.
The feed of his power wrapping around my own becomes apparent within me. I push past the pain to focus in on the feel of his power intertwining with mine.
Seconds pass in silence while I stare vacantly out at the deeply etched lines of the floor. A single shuddering breath enters my lungs and it seems to revive me. It takes more energy than I knew I had, but I take the feeling of his rushing magic and reverse it. I pull it from him to me. It’s a feeling so powerful my fingers start to shake from it, my nails scrape against the dirty floor as my hands tremble uncontrollably.
I hear my leader’s astounded gasp and I raise myself up just in time to see him crumble to the floor of his glorious stage.
Then they’re all standing. Hundreds assassins stand at once with a thundering sound of their footsteps.
And their vengeful gazes are held on me.
Eighteen
Fighting Fire with Fire
