Hot damn.That’s a tough punishment for a tiny misstep.
Not that I’m rooting for the Nobleman Harushu, who sounds like an old crone who clings to his glory days in the past as tight as an infant clings to Mommy’s boob.
No shouts, arguments, or dramatics.
Deafening silence lingers around the table while the General gestures for two Ezkai.
Nobody utters a word as Nobleman Harushu rises from his seat and Ezkai escort him out of the premises.
“This is the loveliest plum blossom wine I’ve had in a while,” the bold fae on the General’s right says, turning a half-filled glass between his fingers.
“Mm-hmm, I agree, Taaslord,” Noblewoman Gadhi says. “It’s the special one they produce up in the northern mountains, in very small batches. The water they use is why it has that crisp, fresh note at the end.”
“Lovely,” the Taaslord says. “I need to get a bottle of it for my collection.”
He gestures for one of the servers.
And just like that, they move on.
The General just exiled a member of his government, and they’re discussing wine.
Watching that whole scene unfold, has me thinking…
If noblefolk are not safe from the wrath of the General for a minor offense, I don’t want to find out what happens to meifI fail to assassinate him.
So, I mix drinks, muddle fruit, and serve plump blossom wine with my head down.
The tiny envelope with its poisonous flower hidden in my sleeve itches my forearm.
Every time I glance at the large gold clock on the wall, it seems like the time is moving too fast.
I’m running out of it.
By now, my back is drenched in sweat. The dinner is about to end soon. I’m yet to get to my assignment.
My heart races, adrenaline pumping through my veins as if the mountain lion is chasing me.
Can I find it in myself to kill someone?
I can’t do it.
I can’t do it.
No.
A voice roars inside my head. I can do it. I can’t fail this.
Not when my freedom depends on it.
It’s either my freedom, or the General’s life.
And I’m never the one to choose other people over me. Even if it means taking someone else’s life to save mine.
I glance around the bar. Only one other bartender is inside; the others are serving drinks.
“Ey, boy.” The owner taps the front of the bar in front of the other bartender. “Make another whiskey drink for the General. Extra strong, add extra marinated cherries on the side. Quickly, quickly!”
The bartender scrambles to quickly make the drink. Sweat drips down his right temple.
