RATTER
I’d never killed a man in the middle of a waltz before. But if there was one thing I enjoyed, it was trying something new.
Not the killing. I’d murdered plenty of prickish Alpha lordlings with foul minds and wandering hands, though the one I was dancing with now should have been safe. After all, I’d made a promise to my boss, the Master Spy of Rimholt, not to murder any more Alphas this year. He’d lectured me about needing to learn when to kill, and when to only maim or terrify. He’d reminded me I was an apprentice spy, not assassin, and complained that I’d killed “as many men as the plagues,” or some such nonsense. Maybe someday, sure, but I was only seventeen.
That sort of accomplishment took time.
Keeping my foolish promise should’ve been a far easier task, since it was only a few days until the winter Solstice. But this perverted nobleman—Duke Lukenza Dunquerfer of Mirren, though I’d gotten his name wrong more times than not—had done the one thing that would make me break that vow. He’d dared to touch my little sister.
Verity stood at the edge of the ballroom, her eyes bright with tears, probably of anger. She’d been on her best court behavior, at one of her first dances. She was only eleven, after all. Then this breathing corpse had asked for a dance, waltzing her into a corner where he must have assumed no one would see him attempt to grope her.
She’d avoided his hands, but looked terrified. I knew she could have defended herself, could have killed him, as easily as I. But she’d been scared to do the deed in the middle of a royal ball, surrounded by his countrymen and family. Verity cared a little too much about showing good manners. Thankfully, she still had time to grow out of that.
I didn’t give two shits in a storm drain if the bastard’s family saw him die. I would commit any crime, from picking a pocket to slitting a throat, for the children I loved. That included the nine street rats who’d grown up with me and made up my crew of adopted siblings, as well as the rest of the urchins who worked for me from time to time but lived all over the streets of my city. It also included the king’s growing brood, who I’d sworn to guard when I was only eleven. They were all mine to protect.
Vow or no vow, Duke Dumbfucker had made his last mistake.
“You’re a strong little thing, aren’t you?” the duke grunted as I led us into the very center of the dancers, as far as I could get from Verity and the other children who were watching the ball from the sides of the room. I faked a giggle, and let the blade I had tucked in my sleeve drop into my hand. Then I gave a sharp triple whistle, in tune with the music. I didn’t have to look to know that the children were being herded out through the closest doorways by my other siblings.
They didn’t need to see this.
The duke leaned down to whisper in my ear, one of his hands landing on my bodice, just below my breast. “Not as young as I like, but you’ll do. Pert little tits ya got?—”
My knife moved faster than the strings of the harp in the orchestra as I sliced his throat, then the wrist of the hand that he’d tried to grope my sister with. My blade was razor sharp, and so he may not have felt it slice through the tendons as well. He couldn’t shout for help when he did feel it, either, though he did make an interesting gurgling noise as he stared down at the mangled appendage.
A woman screeched. “Blood! There’s blood!”
I sighed when the screaming began, knowing I wouldn’t have time to cut the hand off entirely. I was about to be in a shitload of trouble, not that I cared.
If anyone touched one of my own, the children I loved? They’d draw back a bloody stump. If they tried to do anything worse?
Honestly, whether he knew it or not, I’d done the guy a favor. There were far worse ways to die, and worse fates than death.
Thinking back on it, though, I should’ve remembered that. Becauseworse than deathwas what I’d have to face.
My boss.
RATTER
The next afternoon, a frigid gust of air whipped my dark hair into a tangled mass of knots as I stood before the most dangerous man in the kingdom, King Rigol’s Master Spy and Torturer, waiting for him to pronounce his sentence.
I was nervous. So nervous, I could make out a faint, acrid stench of burning mint rising from the sweat on my neck. I was suddenly grateful for the icy blast, and that the man who stood in front of me was upwind. He noticed my fear, of course. But I had a good reason to be afraid, unrelated to my scent.
I’d committed an unforgivable crime, after all. Not the murder. But breaking my promise to the man who I owed everything… and getting caught.
Stupid, amateur move, Ratter.
I unwrapped my fingers from the handle of the same obsidian-jeweled knife I’d used to kill the asshole. Ah well, I’d lived a good seventeen years. And at least I’d die armed, and my executioner would make it fast.
General Vilkurn, my boss for close to nine years now, had saved me from a feral Alpha who’d trapped me in a cage when I was only seven. Then he’d given me a purpose when he made mehis sole apprentice. Right now, though, his dark eyes appeared slightly demonic as they glittered in the early morning gloom. He let out a snarl that was almost a roar, loud enough for me to hear him over the wind on the battlements of the northern tower of the castle. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
I didn’t answer. I was pretty sure this was one of Vilkurn’s “don’t answer this if you want to live” questions.
“You single-handedlyobliteratedKing Rigol’s hopes for a trade deal with Mirren’s northernmost seaport.” His voice got louder. “You murdered aroyal duke, one in the direct line of succession to their throne, in the presence of his family.” Then, louder, “And youdestroyedthe possibility of an alliance by marriage with one of our own!”
He took a steadying breath, and I dared to interrupt. “They’re better off not marrying than being saddled with an ass like that one. Better off dead than married.” At least to that kind of an Alpha.
“Silence!” He leaned forward, and I wrapped my gray assassin’s cloak around me with my free hand, knowing that not even the poisons I carried in it would do me any good if Vilkurn had really decided it was time for me to die.
