Aurelia is a Courtesan, not an Assassin. Her world is turned upside down, however, when she kills a high-ranking Senator in self defense. Given his status, and the political power his family wields, Aurelia knows she will be executed without a trial...
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Countdown: 5 days, 5 hours
Awareness comes slowly, filtering in through a fog of pain. Her head aches. Aurelia lets out a low groan and tries to move, only to realize that she cannot.
She is sitting in a chair, her wrists firmly affixed to the arms of it by some sort of silken cord. She looks closer and sees that her binds are made of neckties. She jerks, trying to free herself, and finds that her legs are similarly bound.
"It'd be great if you didn't rip those," a deep, rumbling voice, rich as honey, says from somewhere behind her. A voice she'd effortlessly be able to pick out of a crowd.
"What the hell, Kaol?" she demands, attempting to jerk herself free again. If possible, the knots grow tighter around her wrists, constricting the blood flow.
She glances around the room- finds a narrow cot, too small for most men but well suited to Kaol's short, stocky frame, a dresser, a neatly made bed. Everything is meticulously clean, every item in its place. Everything except for the far wall, which looks like something out of a fever dream. It is chaos- glossy photographs of green-eyed girls and family sigils tacked haphazardly, red twine strung between them in a tangled web entirely at odds with the rest of Kaol's tidy little home.
"What the hell?" she mutters again.
Kaol walks out from behind her, paces back and forth, his large muscles coiled tight. He stalks like a jungle cat waiting for the right moment to pounce.
"I was on patrol, saw someone following you," Kaol says, the tick in his jaw so pronounced she can see it from where she is bound several feet away. "I knocked you out so I could get you away without you making any noise. I wasn't originally going to tie you up, believe me. But then I checked your bag...
"What is this, Ari?" he demands, voice low and dangerous.
He holds her bloodstained clutch in one hand, the large serrated knife, coated with dried brown flecks in the other. The letters she took rest on the side table beside a photograph of a foreign, Blueridgian, milk-skinned girl with red-blonde hair.
Aurelia feels her heart sink to the pit of her stomach. She deflects.
"The hell is that on your wall? Are you out of your mind?" she demands, and Kaol glowers.
"I'm not the one on trial here," he retorts, and she scoffs.
"No, you're not. Because I took credit for your murder," she snaps.
"I only killed Clotbur because of you," Kaol shouts, his jade eyes dark. "He was my friend," he says, a moment later, his teeth clenched tight, his eyes closed.
She wonders if he sees Clotbur in his dreams like she does. She feels for him, in spite of herself.
"And I'm your sister," she replies, softly, giving him a lifeline, something to hold on to. In spite of everything that has passed between them, she can't help but to ease his suffering.
