The Assassin Princess

Enter the Crown Prince

Calira slipped into her safe house and deftly removed her clothes, leaving her daggers on her hips. She stretched before collapsing onto her mattress. She closed her eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep. When she awoke, she stared at the ceiling.  The task the king had set upon her stayed at the front of her mind.  He had been right. She couldn’t watch him wither away as his disease ran its course through his body. While she didn’t like to admit it, the king had been like a father to her. She had not known her family, but she had always believed that they would’ve treated her how Triscan treated her.

**

 “How is the king?” Calira paused as she crept through the castle. One of the maids stood with a guard in a nearby hallway, talking in hushed voices.

“The doctor has confined him to the bed. The advisors say the Prince will be interim king until his coronation.” The maid informed the guard as Calira’s eyes widened. She pressed herself against a nearby wall and slipped behind a hidden door. In the secret passage, she threw back her hood and pulled her mask down as she raced to the king’s bedroom. She waited until she heard the last of the advisors leave his room. She peeked from behind a picture and deftly entered the room. The king looked peaceful as he slept. His skin was pale and he looked fragile. How long had it been since she had seen him? She thought to herself as she approached his bed silently. If she remembered correctly, it had only been three weeks since she had her last meeting with the aging king. She hadn’t thought that his illness would have progressed that much. She had been thinking it would be months before she’d have to perform his request. Fool, she growled to herself.

“You’re majesty! He’s sleeping!” Calira froze when she heard the doors burst open. She quickly fell to the ground and slipped under the bed, to keep the prince from seeing her face. She watched black boots quickly approach the bed and stop in front of her face.

“Father…” Prince Alaric’s voice was weak. Calira was sure she had never heard such weakness in the prince’s voice before. Calira could picture the arrogant prince instantly. Dark, curly hair covered a square rugged face that housed green-grey eyes. He was leanly built, but he wasn’t as small as one would think. Broad shoulders and thick arms thinned down into narrow hips and thick legs. He was handsome, but she had known him for far too long and with too much animosity to ever consider him as such.

“Son,” Calira froze when she head the king’s voice, weakened by his illness.

“Sarana, come out.” It took a moment for the words to register in Calira’s mind.  She laid frozen before another command jerked her out of her stupor.

“Now.” She recognized the voice.

“Calira, come on out.” The king’s voice entered the conversation and she slowly crawled from underneath the bed. The Prince’s eyes widened when he saw her exposed head. This was THE Calira Sarana, famed assassin. He had always pictured her to be ugly, so ugly in fact that she had to hide behind a mask and cloak and secrecy. But now that he saw her, his entire composure fell. In front of him stood a beautiful, vibrant young woman with voluminous blond curls that hung on her shoulders, piercing ice blue eyes that seared his soul, and the face of an angel with high cheekbones and plump lips. This was not the appearance of a trained killer; this was royalty.

“You’re Calira Sarana?” The prince needed to be sure. The woman nodded and frowned. The king gently grabbed Calira’s arm and used her to pull himself up.

“Yes, I am.” Calira responded quietly. She tried to keep her panic from etching its way on her face. Alaric was never supposed to see her face. He was never supposed to be able to recognize her.

“My son,” Triscan coughed before continuing in a weak voice.

“You must promise me that you’ll protect Sarana.” Calira and Alaric’s eyes widened at the elder’s request.