And maybe the only person who would remember me fondly was Eonaî, and the Imperium would start the wars again, and all my hard work training would be lost, and Yorîmu would come to the afterlife and drag me back by my ear and curse me for being so stupid.
I pulled myself up, using the balusters of the railing around the pavilion to get my eyes high enough to see. I tried to keep my feet still, but I had to kick slightly to keep myself from falling back down.
The bright light was blinding, but it took me only two seconds to understand what I was seeing, as though time had frozen and I was watching a painting.
Prince Rute stood above a prone servant in yellow, his hand extended out, held by two other servants, one pressing his whole body down, the other kneeling on his arm to keep it still. Rute held a sword I recognized as one of the Krustavian blades. Blood pooled under the servant’s torso, and his hand still bled sluggishly where Rute had taken off his pinkie finger.
“I’m going to take a finger off for each day that you ignored my orders.” Rute dragged the blade along the floor of the pavilion, and it cut through the wood. Krustau might only need one hit to kill you, but that didn’t mean that their blades were dull.
A dwarf of Krustau could cleave a mountain in two if given a long enough blade. Their blades were heavy and sharp, designed for men whose bones were made of stone with the muscles to carry them.
Rute raised the blade again and brought it down, slicing off another finger. He bent, picking it up. “You thought you could hide from me with thenorthern prince?Iam the only prince in this empire.”
He laughed, turning the other direction to throw the finger into the water. Sea serpents moved so fast they nearly tore me loose from my perch.
“And soon, it’s going to be my empire. I’m going to enjoy this. You’ll be my personal servant, and I’ll expect perfect service even with only two fingers. I’ll expect you next to me every day and night, every meal, every moment. You understand?” He turned back to the servant, nudging his head until it turned, and I had already known, but it was still too much to see. It was Piivu.
“I’m sorry, Prince Rute. Give me a chance to make amends. Please. I beg you. I beg you.” Piivu’s face was blotchy with tears, his expression carved into wrinkles of pain. He winced when Rute dragged the sword by his face.
“Or maybe I take your tongue? Or your nose?” Rute crouched down, his back to me, and whatever he whispered to Piivu had the servant struggling desperately.
My mind slowed as time had earlier, and I knew my next action. I had to go now. Rute’s rooms were empty, and these were likely his favored servants, meaning my chance of discovery would be less. I could plant the letters and encourage Tallu to search the rooms again. Rute would fall, and Tallu would have more of his relatives’ blood on his hands. The court would trust him less, and the Imperium would be that much closer to chaos.
But I could not make myself swim to shore. Not even knowing the sea serpents were going to get bored soon of small fingers and go looking for bigger prey.
Move, I told myself. And because I had been trained by clever, merciless Yorîmu—she had left me hanging outside a window in the frigid winter and then made me practice dagger skills with my muscles still tight and cold every day for a month, until she was satisfied that I could move even when it was physically hard, when all sense said I shouldn’t be able to.
A sea serpent curled around my leg, and I kicked up, planting both feet on the heavy muscle of its body and pushing myself up to the top of the railing and leaping over it, coming at Rute so fast that he didn’t even see me.
The water dripping from my clothes was the only noise I made, the splash of it startling the servants. They turned to see what had come out of the water, their eyes wide, but I was faster.
I drew my blades.
The servants scrambled back, terrified at the dark, wet creature who had launched itself out of the water. Piivu screamed again, his eyes wide, face pale, and he rolled, following the other servants.
Rute turned, his face twisted, and he brought up his Krustavian sword, but I slid underneath his guard, slicing at his leg with my narrow dagger as I slid past him. Assassination needed to be fast.
If it isn’t fast, then it’s not assassination. It’s torture.Yorîmu had drilled it into me until I said it in my sleep or whenever the cook made food I didn’t like for dinner.
Rute screamed, the short blade slicing through the tendons running up the back of his leg. He went down on one knee, and I was there, my sword at his throat. I pulled the wolf’s claw back, ready to take his head off, but something hit me from the side before the edge of my blade made contact.
I swore.
I’d counted on the servants being in shock for longer. The man on top of me was heavy and desperate. His eyes were wide.
He had the most to lose. He’d acted as Rute’s personal servant, hurting his fellows, doing truly terrible things. If Rute died, then the prince’s protection disappeared. His hands wrapped around my throat, and I didn’t have room to raise my sword, so I brought my dagger up, slamming it into his side.
I had trained for this. It slipped right between his ribs, puncturing a lung, and he gasped, blood bubbling up his throat, coming out of his mouth. Arching my back, I rocked until he fell forward, his balance thrown off by the pain and the momentum of my movements. Then I rolled out from under him, and he collapsed forward, his own body working against him as he tried to draw in breath.
The second servant circled me, having learned from the other’s mistake. His expression was cold, and I could see in his movements that he knew how to hurt someone. Rute hadn’t had to work hard to make this man into his collaborator in pain.
The way he held his knife showed me he was used to it; he knew it intimately.
He slid forward, the blade aimed at a spot in my stomach that would do enough damage to make my ending both painful and long. He was no assassin.
I was.
I moved forward, mimicking his movement with my own dagger, and he dodged straight into my blade. The sword cut halfway through his neck as his momentum carried him into it.
