AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m not here to sell myself to you,” she whispered, drawing nearer to me. “Shavarra sent me.”
My breath hitched. Shavarra, oh my gods.
“She’s alive?” I coughed. “How many made it out? Where are they?”
Who was this woman and why was she here for me?
“I’ll explain it to you on the way.” Her whisper was harsher this time. “Please, we must go.”
The urgency in her words caught me off guard. A new nervousness rose inside me. I didn’t know this woman; who was she to take me to anyone?
Jaw clenched tight, I followed her cloaked form, letting her weave us through the crowd. The noise of the bar became muffled as the door swung shut behind us. Night had blanketed the streets in darkness. Fae firelight was glowing from a few hanging lamps to keep the drunks from hurting themselves on their travels home. I, unfortunately, was not drunk.
Every cell within my body hummed. My eyes fixated on every move she made, leaving me to wonder if she was readying her weapons under that dark material.
“Who are you?” I asked.
Thick, coarse fabric curled into my grasp. A flash of dirty blonde hair and angry green eyes came and went. As quickly as I pulled the hood from her head, she yanked it back up. The woman hissed. Steel, sharp and cold, greeted my neck. She stopped just short of the bobbing lump in my throat and my hand rose to grip hers.
A shadow covered her gaze but it didn’t hide the spark inside of them. Thin lips stretched into a sneer. “I’m saving your life. There is a bounty on your head and some of us, me included, would like to see you on that throne again one day.”
“Seems a little odd that you have a weapon poised against me then. How can I be certain you aren’t trying to kill me yourself?”
The blade lowered.
“If I wanted to do that you would already be six feet under.”
“Then who wants medead?”
I’d never really thought about it but I wasn’t a particularly kind person, especially to those who had a lot of money.
“Not information I cared about.” She slipped the knife back into the sheath I hadn’t seen. Her cloak flicked out behind her as she quickened her pace and surged forward into a dark alley.“Follow me.”
“Alright then,” I huffed under my breath.
My saddened state had left my instincts sluggish. Who I guessed to be a whore was actually an assassin?She no longer looked the part of the tart now. Not with her quiet steps and the way that she seemed to blend in with the growing number of shadows that appeared as she led me away from the bar.
We turned corner after corner heading out of the main village. Most people barely gave us a second glance. The rejected prince and the supposed whore he would spend his time with. It was an easily believed tale. She didn't technicallyneedthe shadows to hide.
“Just a little way out,” she assured me in a tone that suggested her disdain for my abrupt action. Her words did little to appease me as the main path tapered to a small dirt trail. Homes passed sporadically with spaces that grew farther and farther between.
The longer we walked the more time I had to stare down at my now dust-streaked boots. A newer pair that hadn’t yet been broken in but were getting their wear as they rubbed blisters against my ankles. Ash was still caked into the creases of the laces; some spots were even blood-stained. I tried to swallow the knot in my throat with no prevail.
In the distance a home appeared, cobbled together with slanted stone and old worn wood. The porch was lit only by the smallest Fae fire lamp. Winter vines crept up the sides of the building, their blue buds sprouting every so often.
The assassin's eyes drifted from side to side, her hands brushing the fabric of her hood behind an ear as she listened. Her chin dipped in the smallest of nods before she led me forward up the old wooden steps that led to the porch.
She knocked only once before the door cracked open. Lavender eyes peeked through the smallest crack. I could see the tangle of long blonde hair that fell over her chest and lips pulled tightly in a familiar worried grimace.
A strained breath eased from my lungs. Gut-wrenching tension dissolved as the door swung open wide on oiled hinges.
“Shavarra,” I whispered, ushering myself in and pulling her into my arms.Her hair still smelled like her perfume. The curves of her body fit against me in the way they always had. Heat soaked through my clothing, accompanied by the beating of her heart, and the way it skipped in its rhythm.
She wheezed but wrapped her hands around me. “Gentle,” she sighed. “I’m still on the mend.” Her lips grew into a smile I could feel against my neck, her words damp across my skin.
I pulled away. A thick bandage wrapped around one of her shoulders, a wound still healing. I dared to let my fingers brush over it, and her expression tightened into a wince.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice hoarse.
