The Assassin Princess

The First Attempt

The coronation celebration lasted well into the night. Calira frowned as she studied the moon’s position in the night sky. Most of the guests were inebriated and lax. Triscan had retired back to his bed hours ago. Alaric was surrounded by buxom courtly beauties who all trailed their hands down his chest seductively. The smell of alcohol and sex had been too great for Calira so she stepped out onto the nearest terrace. The city’s geometric design was highlighted by the torches lit along the roads. Venta was the capital of the kingdom and housed the library, palace, and court house. There was a school, but only the upper class children were allowed to attend. Calira frowned at the thought.

“You really are a vision, Princess,” Calira felt her breath leave her as she turned to face her visitor. The man stood several feet away from her and was hidden underneath a black robe. A silver mask covered his face.

“Who are you?” She demanded, knowing it be useless to scream for help with the man so close.

“That is of little importance, you’re majesty,” he replied cryptically. Calira frowned. She knew what the words meant. It was the words an assassin would say to a target. She had only been princess for one day and she already had people wanting her dead.

Great, she thought to herself as she tried to think of a way to survive this encounter. The dagger Alaric had given her was tucked underneath her skirt and would take too long to retrieve. She couldn’t fight in the dress. The man was twice her size and would easily overpower her even if she did fight.

“Who sent you, Assassin?” she asked, hoping to buy some time. Maybe Alaric would notice she was missing and send someone to search for her.

Unlikely, she thought bitterly as she remembered the position she had left the Prince in.

“Since you will die, I suppose I can tell you,” the man conceded as Calira frowned. Even she would never tell who sent her. It didn’t matter that her target would never utter the words again.

“Lord Caxton,” the assassin replied as Calira’s eyes widened.

“Caxton? He died three years ago!” She objected. She knew because she had killed him herself.

“Caxton, Sr died three years ago. He had a son,” the assassin explained. Calira’s frown deepened at the thought. Revenge seemed to be an excellent motive to drive the Caxton heir to hire an assassin.

“Calira?” Calira and her visitor froze when they heard Alaric’s voice. The King was searching for his betrothed.

“Calira, are you out here?” Alaric dipped his head outside as his eyes widened when he found Calira pinned to the banister of the balcony.

“Guards!” His shout earned Calira’s immediate release as the assassin turned to flee. Calira reached up her skirt and pulled the dagger out. With a simple flick of her wrist, she sent the weapon into the perpetrator’s back, piercing his spinal column. The man fell to the ground, motionless. Calira patted the dirt off of her dress as Alaric ran to her side. His large hands gripped her face as he studied her for injuries.

“Are you hurt?” he asked as Calira shook her head. Alaric’s hands fell from her face as she watched the panic recede from his features.

“Why did you not call out?” He asked as anger replaced his panic. Calira shrugged her shoulders as she approached her assailant.

“You would not have heard me over the moaning of your court whores,” she replied curtly. Alaric stared at her in surprise as she bent down next to the man and ripped his mask away from his face. His eyes flitted across her face in fear.

“I’ve only paralyzed you. Now I want you to tell me everything you know about Caxton’s heir and why he hired you,” Calira demanded. The man wasn’t unsightly, like she had figured. In fact, he was quite handsome. His hood fell from his head and allowed her to see his shoulder length auburn waves. His blue eyes were determined.