The Ravaryn castle wasn't anything to brag about.
With tall walls and gates that seemed to brush the sky and dark towers with scarcely any color, it was more of a fortress than a castle. Guards were lined up at all posts, changing out only when fatigue or hunger took the better of them; or when they simply dropped dead. The spiked gates kept intruders out, and an ominous mist clouded the base, where the streets of Kevan met with the gates of the castle.
As uninviting as it was, I had called it home for the better part of my life. Enjoyable wouldn't be the exact word I'd use, but I had warm water and enough food for three full meals a day. Now, I'd be lucky if I got one decent filling.
Around sunset, after a thorough cleaning,- the King is all for appearances- I was walking up to the castle, dressed in my usual dark purple jacket and an array of knives tucked underneath. The collar was pulled up high, hiding the sides of my face, and my hair was braided down my back.
Four guards blocked my entry into the first security gate. I recognized one as Alarik but the others were too young for me to know. Alarik gave one look to me, scowled lightly- he must still be sour- and raised his staff across my chest to stop me.
"You have no business being in the castle. Go scurry off to whatever hole you crawled out from, assassin," he hissed, gaining an uneasy look from the other guards. I raised a brow and said smoothly,
"I see you're still bitter, Alarik." His eyes narrowed and his hand clenched tighter around the staff. The moon went behind the clouds, hiding his face.
"You stole from me."
"And it was spent undeniably well, thank you. What would I do without a new coat?" Alarik let out a hiss of air between clenched teeth and pushed me back with his staff.
"Get out of here, thief, before I drag you into the sewer waste where you belong." The insult rolled over me easily. Without breaking eye contact, I reached into my pocket and handed him the king's note. He hesitated before taking it.
His hand brushed over the crest, making his lips form into a tight line. I kept my face hard, waiting for him to speak, but he didn't. Giving up, I spoke first.
"It was years ago, Alarik." I leaned in. "So I'd suggest letting it go and opening the gate like the good little soldier we both know you are." He finally looked up and gave me my note back. The staff dropped from my chest, and he nodded to another guard on the inside who pulled a lever. Chains clanked against each other, breaking the silence of the night, lifting the gate.
"You're going to get what's coming to you- what you deserve- assassin," he called after me as I walked away.
At the next entry point, the guards didn't give me any trouble. They checked my note, looked me over, and let me through the stoned archway. I continued my way to the castle front doors.
Once inside, guards walked me through the corridors painted with ivory and warm tones that contrasted with the exterior. I had a small inkling that the King wanted me under watch, that I wasn't trusted. I didn't know what for, but you don't get bodyguards for not doing anything.
Every now and then, when I heard their footsteps quicken, I'd glance back and count the number following me, to make sure it didn't increase. Their hands stayed on the hilt of their swords at their hip and their eyes were fixated on me- my steps, my gaze, my hands, and knives. I made sure the distance between us didn't differentiate.
Finally, after a lengthy walk, I made it to the throne room's heavy, oak doors. Two servants pushed them open, revealing a dimmed down, stone room with a single velvet carpet running down the center. Drapes hung on the walls behind a large, oversized throne where His Majesty, the King sat. The few windows were dark from the setting sun and the only light was the few lanterns along the walls.
I've always hated this room, its dark and ominous manner, but even more, I hated the King that sat upon the stone throne. He was tall but plump, having eaten probably half of Vadon's food supply by himself. His mustache curved upward perfectly, and his hair was gelled down tightly. His eyes, catlike and narrowed, looked me over as I stepped inside. He held up a single hand, and I froze.
"Please, child, do put away your sharp objects." A servant, dressed in the usual black tailcoat and white undershirt, came up from beside me, carrying a gold tray. I kept my eye contact with the king for a minute before turning and stripping myself of all my knives, setting them down one by one. The tray became heavy in the servant's hands until I could tell he was straining to lift it.
"Excuse me, darling," I muttered, setting a hand on the servant's shoulder to support me as I lifted my leg to reach the knife at my calf. It clattered with the others as I dropped it and turned back to the king. After only one step, he stopped me again.
"Don't play coy with me child. I'm not in the mood," he said in an irritated voice. I gave an exaggerated bow and pulled three small blades from my breast pocket.
"Of course not, my King," I said, reaching back and setting the knives on the limited space on the tray. The king raised a brow, and I huffed out a breath, pulling the last blade from behind my back, stuck in my waistband, and let it fall down to the tray.
He motioned me forward with two fingers, and I walked toward him, stopping a few feet from his throne. The silence rang out.
"Do you know why I called you here?" He finally asked.
"No." A pause as his eyes skimmed over me.
"Do you want to guess?"
"I was never fond of guessing games, Your Majesty," I said sourly. His hand twitched and froze its tapping along the arm of the throne. The tension in his shoulders heightened.
"I heard from a very reliable source that the Duke of Jurdet is dead." So this was about the oh-so-amazing duke. The messages must've been sent out right after he died and beaten me here, or the King has had tabs on me for a while now. Both were plausible.
"Oh, that's a pity. He was always so kind to me," I lied. The king seemed unfazed, but I noticed the weary marks on his face- the lines of restless sleep, the ones worn like medals in Vadon.
"Why did you kill the Duke, Vera?" His voice was soft, controlled, but I've known him for too long to fall for that act. He was slowly falling apart, slowly unhinging, and I savored every second of it.
"I don't know what you're talking about-."
"I was having you tailed. Don't lie to me." The vein in his forehead started bulging out, a thing I noticed happened when he lied. Damn hypocrite.
I knew following anyone was a challenge, especially when trekking through a noisy forest, but tracking me was near to impossible. From experience, I knew to go the more daring way, the less obvious way. Make them think, make them doubt.
"You're bluffing."
"Am I?"
"Yes, because I didn't do shit to a Duke. I was here, running my business. Ask any of my employees. They'll vouch for me." Suddenly, the King's lips tilted up into an eerie smile. He leaned forward. I saw the meat stuck between his teeth.
"I have." With a motion of his hands, the doors behind me flew open and a sound of a struggle echoed off the walls. I glanced back to see Emilian, one of my runners, being dragged in by two guards.
My face remained still, though the fury coursed through me. The King must've noticed this because his grin widened.
"We bribed him with 500 Eros and he spilled everything within seconds," he whispered, studying my face as Emilian was thrown onto his knees before me. He didn't meet my eyes. "About how you were gone for nearly two weeks abruptly and how you only just returned." My eyes blazed and I felt my lips curl. Moles were common amongst gangs, yes, but I hadn't suspected Emilian.
My idiocy killed me like a dagger to the heart. Maybe I was going soft, gullible- resorting back to a little girl rather than a killer.
I knelt down in front of Emilian, clicking my tongue. "I'm hurt, Emilian, that my loyalty only cost 500 Eros," I cooed, brushing a hand over the fresh bruises and leaning in so my mouth was next to his ear. "You have no idea how bad you fucked up." A small whimper managed to escape from him.
I rose, facing the King who was smiling at me triumphantly. "This doesn't prove anything other than I lied about being away," I said calmly, innocently.
"True, but please, Scarlett Assassin, we both know you did." Irritated, I realized there was no getting around this one.
He knew I did it, and he knew I had no evidence against it- not since Emilian was hungry enough for the money that had been shoved in front of him. I was getting too reckless, but the urge to kill him had grown too strong. And I was only human.
My shoulders rose and fell as I inhaled deeply. "Fine, let's say I did kill the Duke of Jurdet. Why do you care?" The King stared up at me, his eyes going feline again.
"Many reasons, Vera. Many reasons." He stopped then, giving no further explanation. The room fell into silence for a moment.
"Unless you think I somehow gained the ability to read minds, Your Majesty, I ask you to elaborate," I said, finally. The King grinned up at me.
"Our contract, dear." He rubbed his face and temples. "Everything is always about that damn contract," he sighed.
"I know the contract better than I know the back of my own hand. Nothing I did broke-."
"Who are you loyal to?" The King asked suddenly, cutting me off. I briefly looked at the guards around the room.
"You, of course, My King." Another sigh.
"I do hate when you lie to me."
"What can I say, I'm a fast learner."
"I will not be insulted by a petty thief."
"I'm a businesswoman."
"You're a murderer."
"Only when I need to be." The king scowled.
"Still, it's unholy. Especially for a woman." My brows drew together, my glare hardening.
"I'm your assassin, King. If you want to hire a male killer to go by the good book, be my guest. Otherwise, you can get the point and stop wasting my precious time. A shepherd can't be away from their flock for too long before the fox's start prowling."
"Do you enjoy speaking in metaphors, Scarlett Assassin?" I managed a small smile.
"Just as much as you enjoy wasting my time." There was another silence.
"I just summoned you because I wanted to show you a lesson on what will happen if you defy me again." With another glance around, I realized four guards were inching closer to us. My hands itched for my knives, for the familiar cool steal. I was outnumbered by a lot, but they were crazy if they thought that meant I wasn't going down without a fight.
"What? Are you going to kill me?" The king didn't respond. The guards were barely two feet from me now. I shifted my foot out.
They reached out, but instead of grabbing me, they got Emilian and pulled him up. It happened fast, too quickly for me to comprehend. One second Emilian was standing there then his blood was on my face.
His limp body dropped to the ground, his throat slashed, the bloody knife clattering to the floor. I stepped back, recovered my shock with an inhale, and stared down at Emilian's lifeless body.
He hadn't even had time to scream.
"Was that really necessary?" I asked, forcing my eyes away and back to the king. He studied me- my reaction, my movements, my breaths. It didn't take me long to realize he was trying to shake me up, to rattle me back to submission. He should know it'd take a lot more than a sliced neck to make me quiet.
"As I said child: It was a lesson. You're going to end up like him- dead, forgotten- if you disobey me once more. I've been patient with you, but here is where I draw the line." He paused. "Do you have any complaints?" I wiped my face, smearing the blood across my cheek.
"Yeah, you could have at least given me a heads up," I mumbled. Whether the King heard this or not, he dismissed me with a lazy wave.
"Go now. I'll call for you when I need to." My lips curled. Like a damn animal.
I forced myself to bow and mumble, "My King," before turning and leaving.
My entourage walked with me back to the main gates and the servant from earlier, still carrying that gold tray of knives, held out the plate for me. I slipped my blades back on me, already feeling comfortable in their weight. Alarik was still on duty, but he did nothing but glare at me as I passed.
Only a few paces away from the castle, my lips curved up into a smirk. My hand reached into my pocket and I pulled out a silver pocket watch from a particular servant and a bag of Eros from a particularly sour guard.
I ignored Alarik's shouts and yells of 'thief' as I walked away, as they grew fainter and fainter and were drowned out by the noise of a dark city just waking up.
_________________
Early the next morning, after a restless night including tossing and turning and hours spent staring mindlessly at a ceiling, I was doing my rounds in East Vill -the better part of Kevan. I usually scoped out this area -the schools, the houses, the shops, and business- just to make sure there were no members of other gangs snooping around Viper territory. I control the shipments on the North Eastern docks and the businesses South of that to the castle, and other gangs occasionally tried to pry them from my fingers like greedy children.
Plus, doing these rounds instead of ordering someone else to do it -which I easily could- keeps me in tune with the city. I hear gossip in passing, secrets not meant to be shared, and I see the city come alive before my eyes. Despite most beliefs, Kevan is remarkably beautiful when you give it a chance. Like most things, it's blanketed in rumors and flaws, but bare, it is bewitching.
I've grown accustomed to a lot of things in my few years -many that most don't in an entire lifetime- but the one thing I don't think I'll ever tire of is the sight of a waking city. You first have your shop owners and businessmen slowly stagger out and a few candles begin to light in windows and buildings. Maids and governesses soon follow, knocking on the front doors of places in need of a cleaner or sitter. Then you have the working women heading to factories and bakeries and the Merchant Stands next, sometimes escorted by an older son or husband and sometimes not. The sounds begin next, the soft chatter of everyday conversations and greetings and laughter that echo down the streets, and the smells of pastries begin after, driving a wedge between the smog and filling the air with warmth. Just like that, the city is awake, and for a few brief moments, Kevan is not dangerous, just misunderstood and mistreated; and for a few seconds, I dreamed it would stay that way.
It was still dark outside but not for long as I saw the sun starting to shine above the blurred horizon. Shops were just starting to open and the night rush was finally dying.
I'd finished my rounds and had decided to go down to the docks to watch the remainder of the sunrise before the light was once again covered with clouds. It felt good being back in this familiar setting, walking the streets, and being able to identify nearly everyone whom I passed. Some cowered away from me, recognizing my unusual ruby red hair, while others went about their day without giving me a second glance. Most just kept a safe distance.
Cutting up the alleyway on 10th street, I continued my small trek to the docks. There was a noise of moving pebbles behind me suddenly, and I looked over my shoulder, slowing down but seeing no one. When I looked back though, I was met face to face with a man I recognized as Niran, a long blade in his hand. I froze but didn't reach for my knives.
"Niran, is it?" I asked even though I knew the answer. He was a pretty well-known street thug, probably around 26, with light brown hair and a stalk build. I didn't know how long he'd been part of the Nightshades but I knew it was more than a few years.
"Scarlett assassin?" He asked back coolly. I did a light bow and smiled.
"In the flesh, but you may call me Ms. Drystan or Darling if you please." I paused. "Now, since I'm assuming you were sent to kill me, should I bother asking who sent you, or would I be wasting my time?" Niran took a step forward. I stood my ground.
"You're wasting your time, Ms. Drystan."
"Hm, people usually go for Darling."
"Would you rather me call you a bitch?" Niran snarled. I smiled.
"Now, now, Niran, Ms. Drystan was perfectly fine. There's no need for name-calling."
"I find it completely necessary, Ms. Drystan. Now, let's get this over with shall we?" There was a pause, and nearly quicker than I could comprehend, Niran lunged forward, knife drawn, peeling toward me. I jumped back to avoid his blade.
He tried again, this time attempting to stab me straight in my heart. I knocked his arm to the side and shoved my other palm into his elbow, hearing a crack. Niran cried out in pain, but I didn't hesitate to knock the knife from his grasp and kick his chest with my boot. Slamming into the wall, he fell to the ground, his eyes landing on the knife I now had pointed at his chest.
"Now, is that any way to treat a lady?" I asked with a pant and a small smile.
"You mean a woman who kills people for a living? I'd say so," Niran choked out between a pained groan.
"Wrong answer." The hurt -possibly broken- arm sat limp at his side. I stepped on his forearm, near his elbow. Niran screamed and thrashed around under me widely. My balance didn't stutter. "Now, who sent you? And please don't make this difficult. I don't have the emotional capacity to spare you."
"N-Nikolas! Damn it, it was Nikolas!" So, the leader of the Nightshades -a rival gang- sent a ruddy street thug after me. I stepped harder. His muscles began to tear. Niran screamed again.
"Please quiet down before I shove my foot in your mouth. Why did he send you?" There was always the possibility that Nikolas' hate for me just snapped and he sent an amateur killer after me, or he could've just become greedy for the businesses the Viper's controlled. But I had the heavy feeling that this stemmed deeper.
"I don't know! I didn't ask questions!" With a clenched jaw and a sharp exhale, I removed my foot and stepped back. I believed him for some strange reason. It was rare that a street soldier would defy the leader's orders or even question them. Members usually were too afraid to do such things- afraid of being gutted alive or simply never heard from again.
"I believe you, Niran, and I thank you for the information you've told me. But, I have one more request." I inched forward. "Go to your boss and tell him that you failed your mission- that I'm alive and well and here to stay. Tell him that unless he wants to spark a war, to lay off my gang, and that if I see any one of you, I won't hesitate to slit your throat open. Do you understand me?" Niran took a second to process this before nodding.
"Good. Now leave before I decide to test out my new little toy," I hissed, waving his knife tauntingly in front of his face. He scrambled up quickly, cussing quickly and kicking up some dust as he ran off.
I watched him leave. Then I waited a few minutes, looked around again as if expecting another round -which never came- and left.
I walked all the way to the pier where the sun was just barely visible above the seemingly smaller horizon. I sat on the docks seeing freedom right in front of me with each crashing wave. It pulled at me while something else -maybe duty or debt or plain cowardness- pushed me back at equal forces to where I just sat still and waited for one to overpower the other.
It was around seven when my body rose and my legs carried me all the way back to the Viper Den, and I forced my mind back to where it was supposed to me all along -to money, to greed, and to blood lust.