The Assassin And The King [Completed]

| Chapter Eleven : The Pie |

▪︎ Kaitlyn Winchester ▪︎

The feeling of scorching fire flowing through my veins, the kind of fire that ignites your soul and wrecks havoc in your mind wasn't something new to me. Back in the creed, during our training with the other fellow assasins and Victor, we used to fight and fight until we couldn't anymore.

A tough training to prepare you for who you are to be.

That was what it was.

But as I feel every single of my cells aflame, I couldn't find that rush of adrenaline, that spirit of vengeance or the will to keep going. All I could feel was aching, brutal pain shoot through my entire being like shards of ice ripping my limbs apart, slow and torturous.

I hated it.

The pain. It made me weak. And that's something Victor said I should never be.

The parchness in my throat made me want to rip apart the organ without any consideration that I'll be hurting myself. But I couldn't move.

Just then, as if trickles of comforting rain in the Sahara desert, a liquid slid down my dry throat.

I hungrily swallowed onto the watery sensation as if it were my source of oxygen. One goble and then another. Until there wasn't left anymore.

It bought an odd sensation of comfort to my soul. So comforting that I didn't want to do anything but brisk into the heady feeling.

"Kaitlyn?" A voice called out, deep and sensous.

It made a shiver run down my spine, in every way good. I just wanted the voice to whisper sweet nothings into my ears.

Except I didn't hear it again even after waiting for a good ten minutes-or so I think.

A frown started forming on my forehead as I fought through the burning in my eyes to flutter the eyelids open.

"You're awake." The voice spoke again, a distinct relief edged to the tone.

It made me feel giddy. The person seemed concerned.

"Can you open your eyes?"

I wanted to say no. Just so that I could hear him talk for centuries.

Mumbling something incoherent that couldn't be figured out by myself either, I flickered open my lids only to stare at the most mesmerizing shade of green peering at me.

I took into his dark hair falling over those sooty lashes in a messy carcass. They were hindering his eyesight. It might be irritating.

My wobbly hand lifted ever so slightly reaching over to touch his face. Just when my hand settled on the shaven smoothness of his skin, those forest eyes widened in alarm.

As if my touched burned him, he jerked back clearing his throat in the process.

I frowned. What the-

"She doesn't contain the plague, princeling." A heavy feminine voice taunted.

My eyes snapped to the beauty seated on the couch across mine with a regal expression tattooed on her face. Her dark skin glistened under the golden-ish light of the flame burning in the furnace, making her seem like a goddess. Although, there was something off about her. I couldn't pin-point what though.

"I'm not a prince anymore, Dulcamara." Valerian's signature blank tone made me avert my eyes from the witch we were to meet towards him.

He had taken a seat far away from me and for a reason unknown, it made my skin sizzle with annoyance.