A deadly fae assassin needs to uncover the truth about her existence while also carrying out the task she's hired for. Only, she never planned to fall in love with the biggest adversary in her mission-or rather fall in love at all.
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Larkspur i...
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"Wow! That was a strong reaction." Hemlock is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.
"He gets on my nerves," I say, tapping away on my laptop.
"The greatest assassin in the kingdom is flustered by a common guy. That's new!"
I don't look up. Ergun's words are still reeling in my mind. I have definitely brought my magic under control, but do I really know the potential of my magic? Whenever I've used my magic, I have created havoc only. Is my magic really that dark?
Ten years ago, I was forced to join the argente against my will. But very quickly I realised that they were an extremely disorganized band of wannabe rebels who called themselves the silver soldiers. They had powers but they weren't organized enough. Most of them weren't very educated either. They were a bunch of common folks disgruntled with the authority. But they were all very afraid of one person—me. I just had to flick my fingers and they would run away. Teenage me enjoyed seeing fear. There was a certain sense of twisted pleasure in the fear of others. But I didn't really use my magic. The initial days at the camp were the toughest. I was eager for freedom and totally out of control.
"Do you think he was right about the Noires?" I ask him, still scrolling aimlessly on the Fae-web. We have an online database for all archives related to the fae history but is only accessible with a special password.
"That's the least of your worries right now. We need to find the Prince as fast as possible and give them a hint of his location"—Hemlock clears his throat—"sleuth alert." But before I can ask what, he is gone and Ergun is standing at my doorway, dithering whether to come in.
"Hey." He raises one hand awkwardly.
"Not interested in whatever."
"Look. I'm sorry—I—Can I come in?"
I shrug. He comes in awkwardly and hovers over the bed.
"You know this is the ladies' wing and you're not allowed." I tap away at the laptop.
"I know. But I couldn't let go without apologizing to you." I look up. He is nervously fidgeting with his fingers. A weird reaction from someone who is always so brazenly self-aware.
"Or are you here to spy on me?" I smirk.
"Oh no no"—he looks around—"though I must say you have a very interesting room."
"Interesting how?" I look around. There is hardly any décor. The boring old teakwood furniture came with the room.
"I mean I heard girls like to personalize their living space—fairies especially are fond of colours." He picks at my charcoal black bedsheet unmindfully.
"I'm not exactly a frills and laces girl." I turn my attention back to the laptop.
"What are you searching for on fae-web?" He scoots closer, suddenly interested in my research.
