Morgana
Iblink, trying to make sense of the action around me. Damia threw her knife, and now there’s another fae storming across the room. Ms. Frinach shrieks at the shining blade swinging toward her. I throw my magic outward, wanting to keep that weapon far away from the terrified woman.
Leon gets there the same time my power does.
As my orbital magic wrenches the dagger from the masked fae’s grip, Leon’s hand wraps around his injured shoulder where Damia’s knife hit him, fingers digging into the wound. The man screams and stumbles, allowing Leon to throw him down onto his back—only for the fae to vanish out of sight.
Sensic magic—it has to be. He’s tricking our minds into not seeing him. His sudden disappearance makes us all freeze for just a beat too long. When Leon draws his sword and slams it into the ground where the man should be, it meets no resistance.
“There!” Alastor shouts, pointing to a space to Leon’s left where the man blinks back into view. With his injury, he’s strugglingto keep his magic going, but even in the few seconds it takes for Leon to swing his blade around, he’s gone again.
“The hallway!”
I feel a rush of air behind me as Damia leaps past, vaulting over a chair with her eyes fixed firmly on the living room door. She charges through it with her blade outstretched, only to shrink back, clutching her arm.
“Shit!” she hisses, blood dripping between her fingers from a shallow cut. “You little fu?—”
Her curse is drowned out by a thud and an awful gurgling sound. Leon was just a few feet behind Damia, and as she pulled back, he swung his sword through the doorway. The blade lodges in something solid, and the masked fae appears again, his head almost completely taken off his shoulders.
Leon withdraws his sword, and the body hits the floor. Ms. Frinach screams.
It takes Fairon several minutes of soothing and consoling before Ms. Frinach will even stop crying. I don’t blame her. I didn’t react so differently myself the first time someone tried to kill me and I saw them murdered in front of me. After Fairon finally manages to calm her, she retreats to a washroom to splash some water on her face. Once she’s out of the room, Fairon throws Leon a disapproving look.
“Was it really necessary to take his whole head, Leonidas?” he says calmly.
Leon shrugs. “I actually only meant to wound him—I wanted him alive so we could question him. But it’s hard to aim when you can’t see the bastard.”
“Neat bit of sensic work,” Alastor says, nodding at the corpse. “Must be a rare power. Shame it went to waste.”
“I’ve heard of him,” Damia says, realization dawning on her features. “The man who can disappear? He’s an assassin. They call him the Ghost.”
“Well, he’s certainly a ghost now,” Alastor says mildly.
“An…an assassin?” Ms. Frinach has reentered in time to catch the end of the conversation, and it’s set her lip to quivering. “Did he come here forme?”
My heart goes out to her. Everyone else in this room is a soldier, or at least has been hardened to the harsher facts of the world. But this woman is just a civilian, and we’ve brought violence and death into her home.
Fairon steers her into one of the chairs not speckled with the assassin’s blood, and I go and crouch beside her.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, making sure she meets my gaze. “Can I ask you your first name?”
“Kora,” she says, confused as to why a human woman is talking to her. We never got around to introducing me.
“Hello, Kora,” I say. “I’m Morgana. I want you to know that we won’t let any more harm come to you. I know that was terrifying, but the princes are powerful men, and whatever reason this has happened, they’re going to make sure you’re protected.”
I don’t need to reach across the mooring—I can demand agreement from LeonandFairon with just a look.
“Yes…Kora,” Fairon says, trying out the name. “We will do everything in our power to keep you safe. But I’m afraid this incident only proves the importance of what you have to tell us.”
I have no idea what information Kora holds, but I trust Fairon when he says she’s important. Obviously, other people—the assassin-hiring kind—think so too.
“I know you’re afraid, Kora,” I say gently. “But we need you to be brave. Your princes, and Filusia, need you to be brave.”
Her eyebrows rise, and she glances up at Leon and Fairon. “Really?”
“Really, Kora,” Leon says. “We need your help.”
She thinks for a moment more, then nods.
