Assassin (Book 1)

FIFTEEN

When we were alone, I dropped by the side of Xavier's bed, feeling his pulse. It was so faint I thought he was dead for the first few tries, and I almost gave up. But then I felt it on his neck. I pulled out the antidote and opened his mouth, tipping it gently.

"Wake up, Xavier, please," I pleaded. "Xavier I'm here. You told me you'd hold on. I'm here now."

He lay still—and that's when I realized I hadn't known how much of the hazel liquid I should've given him. What if too much doubled the effects and hurt him more?

"Xavier. Wake up." I shook him. "Wake up!" I yelled. There was a shrill tinge in my voice, a tinge of helplessness.

Nothing. His pulse slowly faded, and I collapsed next to his bed.

"You said you would wait," I said quietly, gripping his lifeless hand, "You lied to me. I only came back for you. If you don't wake up, everything I did will be for nothing. I did it for you." Suddenly, I remembered Lance was in the room. I turned to speak to him but he turned his face, his jaw set.

You never knew me.

"Xavier." I looked back at the body. "Wake up." I felt the tears start and I brushed them away angrily, when suddenly I felt it.

The gentlest squeeze.

"Don't," a voice whispered hoarsely.

I jerked up. "Xavier!" my eyes were wide.

"Water." his voice was gravelly. I reached forward and pulled his head up, grabbing a cup of water from the table next to me and tipping it down his mouth. His voice cleared.

"Why . . . you . . . you're crying. . ." he croaked, blinking.

"Xavier." I said, clutching his hands, laughing and trying to clear my blurry vision. "You're alive."

"Of course." Even through that tired, don't push me voice, his 'of course' was so matter-of-factly that I burst into laughter.

"I can't believe this," I rubbed my forehead, so relieved.

"Laughing?" he whispered. He had no strength to sit up. The antidote must've jumpstarted a part of his brain to get him to speak. I didn't care. He was awake. "You're. . . ."

"I'm laughing, of course I'm laughing!" I said overwhelmed. "Why wouldn't I laugh?"

"Who are you," said Xavier, attempting a pained smile, his voice pained and slow, "and what . . . have you . . . with my assassin. . ." he shook his head slowly and closed his eyes. "Tired."

"I know," I grinned, fixing his covers, "I know. The doctors are going to check up on you." I kissed his forehead.

I turned to Lance to reassure him, but his eyes were no longer on me. They were closed, his head leaning against the wall. He looked almost peaceful. Innocent.

He didn't belong here.

Weeks later, Xavier regained his strength and the King announced a ball in honor of his son's revival. Of course, I was given no credit because I didn't exist, but I was definitely invited. The ball was in a week, giving Xavier more time to recover.

"Dearest Adalia," he bowed in front of me.

"What do you want, Xavier?" I asked. I had taken a walk in the courtyard to take my mind off things.

"Am I not welcome in my savior's presence?" his drawl was back.

I rolled my eyes. "What do you want?"

He put an arm around my shoulders. His face was still pale and he still looked painfully thin, but he was trying to act as if everything was fine.

Everything was not fine.