But the breeze betrayed him.
The gentle wind from the open doors caught the shimmering cloud and sent it spiraling back toward Symond.
He barely had time to react as the dust enveloped him, its faint shimmer catching the light before his vision blurred.
The room tilted, the edges of his sight darkening as the guard’s figure wavered, distorted by the haze overtaking him. His knees buckled, his breath shallow as the world around him twisted.
“No…” The word barely escaped his lips as darkness closed in. His grip on reality faltered, the sound of the room fading to a faint hum before everything went black.
Chapter 14
Rell
Rell stood in the doorway, his arms crossed as he watched Symond crumble to the floor. A sigh escaped him, heavy with irritation.
Working with amateurs is bad enough, but this guy?Rell thought, his lips twitching in a faint grimace.This is a whole new level of incompetence.
The guard loomed over Symond’s limp form, his sword raised high, the point aimed at the unconscious man’s chest.
For a moment—a fleeting, treacherous moment—Rell considered letting it happen. Symond was a headache, a liability in every sense of the word, and his absence would certainly simplify things. No more misplaced bravado, no more rookie mistakes.
But the thought passed as quickly as it had come.
Symond was annoying, yes, but he was also valuable. ToThe Hive. To Violette. And, like it or not, they still had use for him.
Rell rolled his eyes, pulling a dagger from his belt in one fluid motion. Before the guard could strike, Rell let the blade fly.
It sliced through the air with a soft hiss, embedding itself deep in the man’s neck. The guard’s eyes widened in shock, his sword slipping from his grip as he stumbled back. A choked gasp escapedhim, his hands clawing futilely at the wound before he too crumpled to the floor.
Rell strode forward, crouching down to retrieve his dagger. The guard’s blood was warm, slick as it coated the blade. He wiped it clean on the man’s cloak.
“You gotta pay attention to your environment, kid,” Rell muttered under his breath, glancing at Symond sprawled unconscious on the floor. Rell was only five years older than him but his years of experience in this field made Symond a child in comparison.
Rell stood, his boot splashing in the puddle of blood forming under the guard. He flicked his shoe, splatters of red sprinkling the drapes and bed sheets.
They weren’t supposed to kill anyone. Not with a weapon, anyway. This was supposed to look like alchemy work, clean and subtle. But accidents happened, and sometimes the rules had to bend to the situation. If the officials were smart, they’d focus on the traces of alchemy left behind and chalk this up to an unfortunate—but inevitable—casualty.
He stepped around Symond and approached the sleeping man in the bed. His breathing was steady, deep, oblivious to the chaos that had unfolded just steps away.
By the door, Vye stood watch, her instincts were like a hawk’s, picking up threats before they were ever thoughts in someone’s head. She caught Rell’s eye and in that brief exchange, Rell saw it.
Disappointment.
He didn’t need words to understand it. Violette’s expression said everything:You know this is supposed to be his moment.
They could wake Symond, let him finish the job himself. It was his mission, after all, and his mistake to recover from. But Rell shook his head. That wasn’t how this was going to go. That wasneverhow this was going to go. This was personal. Not for Vye. Not for Symond. But for him.
He hadn’t said as much when they’d taken the assignment, but Rell had known from the start that this target—this job—deserved an extra touch of vengeance that only he could deliver.
The gentle rise and fall of Trinton’s chest seemed almost mocking in the silence. Each breath was an affront, a reminder of the life he had stolen. Rell drew his knife from its sheath, the blade catching a faint glimmer of candlelight as he moved closer to the bed.
He pressed the sharp edge against the man’s throat, the cold steel eliciting a soft, unconscious twitch. Trinton’s eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding his features as he blinked slowly, struggling to piece together the scene before him.
“Hello, Trinton,” Rell whispered, his tone calm, even friendly, though sharp as the blade in his hand.
The man’s eyes widened, his body stiffening beneath the sheets as awareness dawned. He shifted, a feeble attempt to move, but Rell’s knife dug in slightly, pinning him.
“Shh…” Rell raised a finger to his lips.
