The Hunt

Chapter 7- Justified

When Zephyr noticed that the assassin, his assassin, had checked into the hospital wing the night before, he grew a bit worried. When he saw the man dropping another assassin, one who Zephyr could've cared less about, he was a bit relieved.

From the side of the ring, the prince clapped his hands.

Both assassins jumped, looking at the 'new' audience they'd acquired.

The one on the floor had to stand before placing a fist over his heart and giving a sharp bow. Orion Magnus was already pressed into perfect form.

"Great match, both of you," the prince remarked, making small talk. "Orion Magnus, correct."

The rust haired assassin's eyes were anywhere but on the Prince's. "Yes, your highness?"

"I'd like to speak with you, in private, if you don't mind."

The assassin nodded, stepping forward towards Zephyr before stoping, remembering to drop all his hidden blades on the floor. Proper etiquette I front of royalty, of course.

Zephyr turned and started walking, confident that the young assassin would follow. While walking, he took note of Orion's footsteps, which he couldn't at all hear. He was a bit embarrassed at how impressed he was. To Orion, it must've been natural.

When he reached the door he was looking for, Zephyr pulled out his keys and unlocked it, allowing both of them to silently slide in. An older room meant to be a break room. No one used it anymore because it was too far off patrol compared to the rest.

Finally, Zephyr took a moment to examine the assassin. He was tall and lean, maybe six foot five inches. Tanned skin and well defined muscles. He wore boots, good for hiding blades, and an empty sheath around waist.

He must've been staring for a while, because the assassin began to fidget.

"Is that wound of yours doing well?" The young prince finally asked. "Not hurting too much or anything?"

"No, nothing too bad, your Highness. A saint gave me a tonic to-"

Zephyr's fist connected with the assassins stomach. The left side, right where he knew it hurt. Instead of moving his hand away, he kept it flat against Orion's stomach, keeping him steady in case he fell.

But the assassin only flinched, biting his lip against the searing pain and refusing the support.

"Good," Zephyr said, waiting a few beats before taking his hand away. "Looks like you're still in good shape."

"Your highness?" Orion bit out.

"I'm sure you've heard the news, Orion. The Coronation Game is coming up." He waited for a response, but got none. "I want you to participate in my team."

Now his gray eyes flicked, looking up and meeting the Prince's eyes.

"Me?"

"You do have the best rating of all the young assassins. Never failed a job, never been caught. I could use someone with skill like yours. If you think you're up to it."

A challenge of bravery. That's what he'd just issued. The first trial that all the members of the Royal team had to face. People called it the first test.

The foreign guard had asked for it.

The murderer hadn't cared.

And the assassin. May Sheek-Ala, goddess of the battlefield bless all those who stood in his way.

The assassin smiled.