"YOU FOOLISH GIRL, NOT EVEN YOUR STORIES CAN SAVE YOUR BEAUTIFUL THROAT."
Khai killed 1000 girls before he got to her. And he would make sure she would die like the others. His beautiful hands demand blood on them.
Mazeeda would make sure that she'l...
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IT WAS DARK. NOT PITCHEDblack, but a dark velvet that washed over the sky. The stars were her light and the breeze her wayfinder.
Mazeeda kept close watch of him, watched as he ventured back to the small camp he made for himself. She kept waiting for him to come back out, but found only darkness staring back at her.
She pushed herself off the sand to go and look.
“By the gods,” a voice quietly told her, “the stars really are spectacular tonight.”
Scared out of her skin, the assassin jumped back and found the very prince she was meant to kill in front of her.
His stance was poised and ambitious, eager to learn and reach out to those in need. He was naive, that was what he was. The stars above made his eyes look like galaxies and his strong cheeks milky ways. His tousled hair was like a melody off beat, strung up in the wrongest way to make a perfect symphony.
And then she realised that this handsome man was supposed to spill his crimson blood on her weapon. And so she tackled him down onto his back, and pressed the tip of her crooked dagger into his thick neck.
Khai was mesmerized by this girl, this killer. If he was to die like this, he would be glad to die seeing such a beautiful young woman on such a beautiful night. “You're magnificent,” he whispered out.
A scowl formed, arching her eyebrows down as her weapon did the same. “The only thing magnificent here is your death.” She raised her arms up, ready to strike true into his pulsing neck, ready to-
“You're beautiful.”
Everything stopped. Everything. The night was no longer alive, the stars were shining brighter, the moon quieter.
The assassin dropped her arms and crawled away, stunned into silence. All she could do was stare back into his comforting eyes. This was a dangerous game she was playing at.
He sat back on his knees. “What is your name?”
Mazeeda stood, horrified at what's to come at the moment. He was supposed to be dead seconds earlier. She was going to be punished for this. He was supposed to die. She was supposed to kill him without hesitation.
She wanted him alive.
And then she ran far across the sand, and would run a thousand miles until she came across the mountains she knew so well.
“Wait!” he yelled after her.
She did not look back, did not need to, for she felt his eyes on her the entire way. Only then when she reached Iskawr that she realised one thing.
She had left her dagger back with Khai.
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