The Scarlet Assassin

Chapter Forty-Seven

"I can't believe I was so fucking stupid," Sorin mumbled, his back to me as he walked away.

"Sorin," I pleaded. He didn't turn around. "Sorin!"

He spun around suddenly and spat, "Do you honestly still believe after every damn thing we've been through that I would still be planning to kill you?"

I scoffed. "Of course I don't."

"Really? Then why did you hesitate?"

"I don't know."

"Why did you think I was reaching for my knife?"

"I don't know."

Sorin scoffed. "Well then let me help you: It's because you don't trust me. It's because you refuse to trust anyone, even people who are just trying to help you. You are just so fucking paranoid," Sorin continued, "that you think everyone is out to fucking get you."

My tone turned defensive. "I do trust people, Sorin. But you can't blame me for feeling a little on edge with other people. It's my job."

"Killing people for money is not a job."

"That's rich coming from a Lieutenant."

"That is completely different."

"How?!" I demanded, and when Sorin just stood there seething, I yelled, "Go ahead and say it, Sorin! I know you want to. Maybe it'll make you feel better!"

"Because I kill people who want to hurt people in my home, in my kingdom! You kill for sport, for entertainment."

I threw my hands up. "Oh, there it is! I'm back to being the heartless bitch! You really think that I enjoy killing people? Do you think I crave it? Do you think I seek it out?"

"You had no trouble killing the prince," Sorin spat at me. "He was about to become a father! He was about to start a life with the woman he loved and you ended it without batting an eye!"

"I did my job!" I shouted. "And I will not apologize for that. Will you?"

"God!" Sorin yelled. "Why?! Why are you like this?! How can you be so okay with it?!"

"Orson killed Jacob, and I don't see you patronizing him," I said. "I bet he doesn't even remember his name." For a moment everything went quiet. Sorin looked as if I'd just slapped him.

He began scrounging for words. "Th...that is-"

"Yeah, 'completely different', right?" I asked. Sorin didn't answer. "Just because Orson didn't have the knife in his hand, does not mean he was any less responsible for his death."

Sorin began shaking his head again, but it wasn't the same as before. Instead of anger, sadness flooded his face. "God," he said again. "What happened to you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped.

"You really don't trust anyone, do you? Not him, not me-"

"Why are you still on this?! Yes, I hesitated! Yes, I reacted when it looked like you might be reaching for your knife! Is that what you want to hear!? Is that what this entire thing was about–getting me to admit to you that I hesitated? Why do you even fucking care anyway?! Why do you care if I trust you or not?!"

Sorin had gone very still, face expressionless, jaw taunt. "You don't get it."

"Get what?!"

"It's you, Vera," he said desperately, as if trying to get me to understand. "It's you I look for when I want to talk to someone; you I look for when we're in danger to see if you're safe; you I look at when I laugh to see if you're laughing with me, and I hate it. There are no words that could even begin to describe my hate for it, that... that feeling. I could look forever and never be able to put into words how I feel when I look at you. It's disgusting."