‘I know. Try using this instead.’ I handed him a pouch with paralysing powder, and my friend sighed in exasperation.
‘Fine, we’ll do it your way.’ He slipped beneath a dark window and swung a grapple until it attached to the roof. Irsha climbed swiftly with feline-like grace, and once on the parapet, he pulled a rope ladder from his backpack and lowered it for me. I was much less graceful as I climbed, but eventually, we were both on the parapet. Irsha then pried the window open, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter.
The room was bathed in darkness, hiding my scowl, the silence deepening the shadows. The moment I stepped through the window, something squeaked; a discarded child’s toy beneath my boot.
‘Papa?’ I froze at the small voice, and Irsha cursed under his breath. I shook my head, gesturing for him to wait. With a muttered incantation, green flames danced on my palm, transforming into a pirouetting forest sprite as I approached the child’s bed.
The boy, maybe five years old, observed the dancing sprite with eyes wide in wonder, reaching out to touch it. I let his fingers brush against the magic, the gentle heat making him giggle and giving me time to reach for my belt. A pinch of Sleeper’s powder was enough to turn his eyes glossy. Irshacaught him just as his body melted, and he fell back onto the pillows.
‘Sleep well, little one,’ I whispered while my Blade exhaled with relief, his hand shaking a little.
‘That was close,’ he whispered before we moved deep into the manor. I couldn’t agree more, knowing he would rather get caught than hurt a child.
Several candles lit the corridor, an unusual choice for a noble; most preferred the smokeless and safe fae lights. Still, it made our task easier, especially when the draft from the open door was enough to extinguish half of them, bathing the space in darkness.
‘Second floor, fifth door to the left,’ Irsha said, leading us up the stairs. He kept his promise, using my powder to subdue the guards, though the accusation in his eyes after one cut his arm after not succumbing to my concoction, made me look away in apology. We ducked into an empty side room while I took out my supplies.
‘Sorry, Blade. Let’s get that bandaged so you don’t bleed everywhere. Knowing this bastard, he’ll have a mage use it to track you.’
Irsha didn’t reply, but he held out his arm for me to dress his wound. We took our time after that, arriving at the ornate door of what must have been the master chambers several minutes later.
‘How do you want to play this?’ he said, holding me back.
‘Same method your men are using, you keep an eye out, while I do the talking,’ I answered, smiling at his indignant huff. ‘Don’t, Blade. I want Yaran scared of the king’s shadow, not a masked assassin.’
He shook his head with an exasperated sigh before pressing on the door handle. The contrast between the dark corridor andthe brightly lit room hurt my eyes, and it took me a moment to adjust – a moment too long.
A man leapt off the bed, dagger in hand and, roaring curses, rushed towards us. I couldn’t fault his courage or determination, but who wouldn’t be determined when death came at night, hidden behind painted flowers?
Behind him on the poster bed, between the opulent satin sheets, hid a woman less than half his age, her face frozen in a grimace of terror.
‘I need him conscious,’ I said when Irsha rushed towards Yaran, while I stalked to the bed. I didn’t pay attention to the fight behind me. Irsha was more than capable of handling a flabby, half-naked noble. Instead, I confronted the woman.
‘Are you here of your own free will?’ I knew all too well how some nobles liked to spend their nights, but she surprised me.
‘Of course I want to be here. I’m Marchioness Yarran.’ She spat the words in my face, fear replaced by disdain.
‘Oh. Well, then you have a choice, my lady. I can slit your throat, or you can inhale the powder in my hand and sleep through this entire ordeal.’
My words were purposefully loud. She would be the first step in softening Yaran’s resolve. His wife wouldn’t die tonight, but he didn’t need to know that.
‘Take the powder, Serennah. Take the fucking powder!’ he shouted, struggling in Irsha’s grip. Suddenly, my Blade groaned, backhanding the marquess, who’d sunk his teeth into the assassin’s hand. The protectiveness earned my respect, but didn’t sway my resolve.
‘Who are you?’ Serennah whispered, her face suddenly pale.
‘I’m the Deadly Nightshade, King Reynard’s shadow. I’m here on His Majesty’s business,’ I said, reaching into my pouch. ‘Ready?’ When she nodded, I gestured to the bed. ‘Then make yourself comfortable.’
When she was dealt with, I turned to the man in question. He was on his knees with a steel garrotte around his throat, the wire cutting into the skin.
‘He bit me,’ Irsha said as if this explained the noose and the veins bulging on Yarran’s neck.
‘The bastard ordered you to kill me. Tivala was right; he’s a savage who should be removed from the throne.’ His voice, distorted by the pressure on his larynx, still projected anger. However, it was fear I saw in his eyes, and fear I could use.
‘Is Tivala such a paragon of virtue? Then why is it you who’s risking their life while he sits safely in his manor?’ I asked, pulling a chair up to add a little intimidation. ‘It’s a shame, but the king didn’t request your death. I might take it anyway if you oppose me. So, what will it be, old man?’
‘What do you want?’ he asked, and I gestured for Irsha to loosen his hold.
‘Tell me about Tivala’s plan for tomorrow at the council session.’ His eyes narrowed at my question, but before he could answer, I cut in. ‘I know he wants to bring his army here and use the marriage contract to justify it. You’ll tell me exactly how you were going to do it, or I’ll ask my friend to torture you until you remember every detail.’
