Assassin (Book 1)

TEN

"A what?"

"A job," he repeated. "There are so many jobs. I mean, you could help with the cooking and cleaning—"

"Excuse me? Now I have been offended," I said, dumbfounded. "Cooking?"

"I'm not done." He put his hand on my shoulder in annoyance. "There's helping the Rebel Leaders with stuff. You could be a guard. We're low on good fighters. That's the one I want for you so you can get closer to them—er, Clarice. Because she hates you. No offense. If you're planning to stay here, you should at least try to make a pact."

He had his index finger against his cheekbone, his face settled on his fist as if he were thinking.

"No thank you." I made it clear. "No way am I going to do something like that. Any more offers?"

"Well there's one more," he said with a sigh. "The others are all taken. Unless you want to take it in your hands to chop trees down. That'll be fine."

"Ha-ha. Very funny."

"This one isn't really chosen because people tend to have weak stomachs. They can't do all the stitching wounds shut and cutting flesh and—" he shuddered. "A healer?"

I froze. Healer. Poison. Antidote.

"I'm not good with that either." I put a hand over my stomach and made a sick face.

"I suppose you could learn." He fingered the hem of his shirt. "We need more healers. At the moment we only have two, and one of them is a very old woman. If something happens to her, she'll leave behind her apprentice who really isn't that skilled."

"Who's the apprentice?" I asked, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

He rolled his green eyes, as if it were obvious. "Me."

"Oh."

He nodded. "That's why I wanted you to come because every new person I ask refuses the spot. They're just here for protection." Lance stood up. "I think the Leaders should just make a rule that everyone here needs to work."

"I don't think I could be a healer," I protested, holding his hand and pulling him back down.

"You catch on rather quickly. And Clarice might learn to respect you after you save a couple of lives." He raised his eyebrows. "Consider it."

I was going to have to accept it for that antidote. But how was I going to get Lorelle out of here?

"How can you trust me enough in two days to let me come down to work for you?" I heard the words, and moments later I realized I'd spoken them out loud.

"I trust you enough. I hope you'd care enough not to hurt me or someone else here," Lance replied curtly.

"You do?" I heard my voice lower, a sense of dread and misunderstanding lingering in the air around me.

"I do," he nodded with a grin. "It sounds like I just agreed to take your hand in marriage."

I laughed, but there was no happiness behind it.

I'd found my way outside that night, breathing in the cold night air. Lance was nowhere to be found, probably underground, and I was alone once more. Most of the people had retired to their chambers and I felt the tiredness coming in. I was still wearing a dress and I was beginning to get tired of the limited freedom it offered.

As I stood there, a sudden shadow darted out and, before I could move, a hand clamped over my mouth, followed by another set around my waist and one holding my arms back.

If it weren't for this bloody dress I would've gotten out and ripped the kidnappers to shreds, but for now the dress had woven its way between my legs and as holding me back from thrashing about. I was dragged into a dark area behind the house and someone hissed, "Don't scream and we'll let your mouth free."