I spend the next week watching Guild Masters Keller and Rostova, learning the names and faces of the people around them, scouting out advantageous locations to attack from, while trying to anticipate all likely opportunities. After hours of planning and replanning, as if to mock my efforts, fate presents me with an unexpected opportunity.
On the ninth day of Winterfest, the market is bustling with vendors hawking their wares and customers bartering for last-minute gifts. With my hood pulled low over my face and my cloaking spell in place, I weave through the already rambunctious crowd, sedately picking my way through the stalls, stepping over discarded wine bottles and around puddles of Founder only knows what. Typically, I avoid throngs of people, but the shortest route to my inn is through the market.
I slip between two stalls, heading for the next alley, when I spot a scout wearing the red, green, and gold colors of House Rostova. I slow my pace and stay back, observinghim. Male-presenting, around eighteen to twenty years old. Blond, short hair. Pale skin. Average height. A bit of an awkward gait. Right-handed. No weapons. Low threat.
A minute later, a cluster of six men wearing the same house colors and bright Winterfest masks stumbles into the square, well into their cups, laughing and shoving each other. Their four Onyx Guild bodyguards appear haggard, visibly trying to keep the group together and protected. With their faces covered, it’s difficult to tell exactly who the men are, but after three weeks of observing the guild masters, I’m certain that Rostova is part of that group. The presence of the guards confirms it. Although not wearing the silver robe of his office, the man at the very back has the same closely cropped silver hair, is the right height and build, and holds himself a bit apart from the others, as though he’s better, or more important.
I carefully withdraw a ring from the pouch at my hip, slipping it onto the middle finger of my right hand. It’s an ugly silver monstrosity, decorated with a cluster of intricately carved skulls. I acquired it from a target I’d eliminated over a decade ago in Adytum. Unaware of what it was, the ring almost killed me as I pried it from the dead man’s hand. The pressure had triggered the spring-loaded latch, exposing a poison-filled needle hidden beneath. It was love at first sight. It’s now one of my prized possessions, and I carry it with me on every hunt. There have been a few instances, such as now, where an opportunity presents itself and the ring is the ideal weapon.
The bodyguards attempt to herd the drunk men down the center of the street while still keeping them withintheir protective circle, but the crowd jostles them almost constantly. I use the convenient distraction to get closer, listening to their chatter, hoping to verify that Rostovaisin the group. It comes as the man at the back yells curses when he’s knocked off balance by one of his own revelers. I recognize his voice. Cautiously, I press through the mass of people until I’m just outside the rear bodyguard’s line of sight and wait for my opportunity.
It doesn’t come soon enough. The group is likely to leave the main thoroughfare at the next corner to head for the Rostova compound. If that happens, I’ll lose my ability to follow undetected. I need a big diversion, preferably one that causes people to swarm near them. Because creating illusions isn’t in my skill set, I’m forced to resort to the one thing that will guarantee a frenzied response from the crowd. I grab a handful of coins from another pouch at my hip, surreptitiously tossing them near Rostova. As expected, utter chaos ensues.
There are shrieks of excitement from the shoppers. Several of them drop into a crouch right in front of Rostova’s group, tripping some of them. Children dart in and out of legs, pushing and shoving people as they scramble for stray coins. The bodyguards can’t pay attention to everyone at once, and a few of them fail to cover the people they’re tasked with protecting.
I allow the crowd to propel me into Rostova. Without hesitation, I squeeze the trigger on the ring, flipping open the cover, grab him by the hip, and stick him with the needle. The injection is instantaneous which allows me to quickly stumble back into the churning mass of the crowd.I let them carry me away, the guards never the wiser. Once I’m pushed clear of the worst of the chaos, I walk away from the market at a steady pace. As I pull my cowl lower over my face, the cry goes up for a healer. I turn down the next alley, exhilarated by the accomplishment. Two more to go, Kas. Only two left.
Chapter 27
Missteps
I’m close to the inn when the mirror in my pocket warms. I pull it out and activate it, expecting to see Elanil or Kenji’s face. I blink as Nico stares at me. “Bello.” His voice is rough, and his sad expression breaks my heart.
“Nico. What’s wrong?”
He grins, but he’s not happy. “We are approaching the end of Winterfest, but I have not heard from you. Not once.” He swallows several times and glances away from the mirror. “I will admit that I am worried you have decided to move on rather than tie yourself to me.” The pain in my chest is abrupt and sharp, like I’ve been stabbed through the heart. “If you are not coming back, please tell me now.”
Fuck. I’ve been so single-minded, so focused on my targets and finishing before the deadline, that I haven’t considered how Nico might interpret that. “Oh, love. I haven’t moved on and don’t want to. I’ll come to you now. Please, let me, so I can explain.”
“Yes. Come now.” His image fades, and I turn on my heels, practically flying to the Medina estate, absolutely consumed by the need to see him. Founder, I’ve fucked up so badly.
Moving from rooftop to rooftop where possible, I make it to Stefano’s house in half the usual time. I stare at the mansion, unsure if I should go in through the front door or climb the trellis to Nico’s room. Running into Stefano and having to explain anything to him would be overwhelming, so I opt to pick the gate lock and discreetly move along the path around the house, keeping to the shadows. I scale the lattice easily and step onto the balcony only a few minutes after leaving the street.
Nico is slouched low in his chair, staring at the wine swirling around in his glass. It’s eerily similar to the night, so many months ago, when I’d climbed to the balcony and watched him sit at that same table, waiting for me. Only now he appears worried and tired, and my heart aches to see him this way. I lean against the balustrade, almost afraid to speak. “Nico?”
The wine glass trembles slightly as his whole body tenses before he calms himself and carefully places the glass on the table. I hold my breath and grip the railing nervously as he stands and faces me. We stare at each other for what seems like hours. Maybe this was a bad idea. I’m calculating how quickly I can vault over the balustrade onto the patio below when he moves toward me, relief written on his face. “Bello.”
I release the breath I’ve been holding and hurry to him, hands held out in supplication. “I’m so sorry.” Anythingelse I might have said next is cut off as Nico crushes me against his chest, his mouth pressed to mine in a greedy kiss that I eagerly return. It’s rough, all teeth and tongues and grasping hands until we break apart, gasping for air. Our lips are barely a hair’s breadth apart, and I grab the soft silk of his shirt, afraid to let him move too far. “I’m sorry you worried, and I’m sorry we fought before you left.” I search his eyes, aching to know that he believes me and worried that he doesn’t. “I love you, Nicolas. Please don’t ever think that I don’t care for you or don’t want to marry you. Because I do. With all my heart I want that. I want you.”
Nico peppers light kisses across my face and the relief almost brings me to my knees. “I am sorry we fought too. I am so happy you are here. I feared I had finally pushed too hard and scared you off.”
I vehemently shake my head. “Not possible. And I have every intention of marrying you as soon as this mission is over.” Nico’s gentle kisses stop, and his arms go slack as he takes a step away, frowning. Panicking, I tighten my grip on him. “It’s almost done. There are only two more to go. I just need one more week, I swear.”
There’s still doubt in his eyes, and the way his brow furrows and his fingers flex, as if he’s afraid to touch me, tells me how hesitant he is to believe what I’m saying. It hurts, but I deserve it after abandoning him for weeks with no contact. Nico’s voice is painfully neutral when he finally speaks. “There has been no news about Rostova, Keller, or Santorini. Is this a recent development?”
“As recent as this very morning. Rostova had a heart attack in the market.” My grin is tentative but hopeful. “I’m sure they’re trying to keep it quiet until they can figure out what to do.” I relax my grip on Nico’s shirt, futilely trying to smooth out the wrinkles, and sigh. “But now comes the challenging part. Eliminating Leonardo Santorini will be hard enough after Rostova’s death, but Keller will be incredibly challenging. There will be heightened security as a result of the other deaths. My plan is to take advantage of the chaotic Winterfest celebrations again. When the fasting begins next week, Panah City will return to its normal routines, and I’ll have to wait, again. That’ll take far too long for either of our liking.” I carefully scan Nico’s face, nervously hoping that it will be enough progress for him to forgive me.
Thankfully, his tension drains away, and his smile is unexpected but a very welcome ray of sunshine. Weak with relief, I lean into him and tilt my face up, lips slightly parted in silent invitation. He dips his head and nips at my ear. “Then we take them out this week.” His mouth is soft and sweet and almost enough of a distraction. But not quite.
I want nothing more than to lose myself in his kisses, but we need clarification first. “I don’t want you in danger, love. If anything happens to you—I’m not sure I could survive that again.”
Nico’s mouth hovers over mine, his lips tantalizingly close. “I have the perfect solution to your dilemma, Bello. Should I tell you what it is?” He’s taunting me, making it difficult to think about anything but kissing him again. “I can hand you your target.”
My body mercilessly reminds me just how long it’s been since I’ve had Nico naked—or even semi-naked—and I’m aching to touch and be touched. “Which target, and how do you propose to do that?” My voice is thick with desire. Nico’s broad chest feels good under the thin layer of silk, and I shiver as his chiseled muscles ripple beneath my hands.
He grins and pulls me closer, nibbling softly along my neck. “There is a price for this information.”
His warm breath tickles, his beard rough against my skin, and I moan wantonly, pressing closer. This is good. So good. It would be even better if we were naked, our bodies grinding together, mine filled and stretched. “If you want to exchange sexual favors for information, I’m more than willing to trade. Name your price.”
