On The Edge of a Blade

Chapter 1.2

Rose broke out of her considerations as Miller came up behind her, clapping his hands together with finality. "I hid them in some bushes. Someone will find them eventually." He snickered, sounding more like a troublesome child than a capable assassin. It wasn't a toy which he had hidden from a friend, unfortunately, but two trained soldiers from the king. Perhaps some people would be aghast at their heartless brutality, but not these two. Instead, there was a twisted sense of pride to be had at the usurpation of the hated king's minions. Rose gave a small smile in response, sharing in the minor sense of satisfaction.

If there was one thing each of the assassins in the coalition had in common, it was their abhorrence of King Vincent Moore. Rose wanted out of the group as rapidly as possible, but at least she had the opportunity to gain some gratification from becoming a royal vexation.  

The thing which separated Rose from the other six, despite that common hatred, wasn't the intensity of the emotion. No; to be honest, she wanted nothing more than to get the current king off the throne, and most certainly wasn't alone in that sentiment. But, where Rose wanted one of the princes to take up the torch dropped by their father, the others in the coalition simply wanted to demolish the monarchy: no more king, no more sovereign ruler.

More frightening than a horrible king was complete anarchy. That was why Rose found herself so desperately waiting to flee from this unholy fellowship.

Subconsciously, Rose's gaze swept back to the archway leading into the courtyard. Miller's followed. "Feline hasn't shown up yet, then?" His response was a single shake of his head. Glancing up at the sky, Miller frowned. "Odd. Should be about time; it's already mid afternoon." As soon as he finished speaking, someone burst out from around the corner. Not to be caught off guard again, Rose burst into action, flicking her robe aside and unsheathing a dagger from her belt.

"Cool it, cool it!" Feline stopped on a dime, looking at Rose and Miller -- who had done the same thing as his companion -- as though offended. Even though she seemed to have sprinted all the way there from the celebration, she wasn't winded in the slightest. In fact, she looked as put together as one could be, heat be damned; everything about her was in perfect condition, from her straight raven hair, which fell just to her shoulders and was loosely swathed by a thin scarf, to her crisp sky blue petticoat. Even if her alias had been a beggar in ragged attire, Feline would still be a temptress. It was no wonder that she had become so successful in wooing men into her traps with few hindrances at all.

"Oh, it's you." Rose started to put the knife back, but Feline held up a hand.

"Don't put that away quite yet," she said with a sly smile. "It's go time, my pretty killers."  

Just then, the ground began to shake, and a roar like thunder split through the air. Rose and Miller started, adopting ready stances. When the superficial earthquake began to subside, the cry of the bombs was replaced with the wail of panicked party guests.

Rose straightened, her smile growing as she rose. Finally, some action! She and Miller exchanged a look, then both turned to Feline, who stood confidently before them with both hands on hips.

"So? Clock is ticking."

With a roll of her eyes, Rose pulled her hood further down her head, low enough to hide her face but not obscure her vision, and headed towards the courtyard.

Rather than letting Rose pass and continue on to complete the predetermined plan, however, Feline stepped to the side, blocking her path. "Woah, there," she said, her voice a low note of warning.

"What are you doing?" Rose demanded, lowering her knife. She slid over a pace, but Feline mimicked her, moving with her just like a mirror image. "Cut the crap, hussy. Outta my way!"