The Assassin Princess

The First Attempt

“Why should I? You’re just going to kill me afterwards,” he replied defiantly. Calira smirked. A true assassin would never have opened his mouth.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. Your information may determine your fate,” she answered. The man pressed his lips together in a firm line, intent on staying silent.

“Very well,” she announced as she gripped the dagger in his back.

“Calira, no,” Alaric ordered as he pulled the blonde away from the man.

“He is much more valuable alive,” Alaric commented as Calira stared at him in surprise. His eyes had darkened considerably as he bent down next to the immobile man.

“You will tell me who sent you, whelp,” he muttered lowly. Calira frowned as she moved away from the enraged King. By now, an audience had formed and Calira wanted to be anything but the center of their attention. She could already hear their hushed whispers.

“He attacked the Princess…”

“Isn’t that the dagger the King gave her earlier?”

“How did she strike him so?”

“Alaric, we need to move him,” Calira warned softly as Alaric looked up at her. He saw the trepidation in her eyes. He easily nodded as he turned to several of his guards.

“Take him to the dungeon and leave that weapon there,” he commanded as he stood erect next to Calira. He led her by the small of her back behind the guards. The court watched in wonder as the man glared at them.

“I believe the festivities of the night have come to end, my friends. You are all welcome to stay the night,” Alaric turned back to the astonished nobles and Calira narrowed her eyes on the few who chose to stay. She felt they were the court gossips and they were only staying to gather more information on the man that had tried to kill her. A page led the guests away as Alaric directed Calira to his bed chambers. Hers was next door and was connected by a secret passageway behind the elaborate portrait of a fox hunt.

“You should have killed him, Alaric. He will not talk. He is an assassin. He was trained to kill and not talk,” Calira warned as Alaric locked the room. He loosened his shirt from his neck and sighed. Calira was right and well he knew it. However, he wanted to torture the man. He wanted to make him regret even looking at his betrothed.

“Did he tell you who sent him?” Alaric asked.

“Lord Caxton Jr. It’s probably revenge, after all you ordered the hit on his father,” Calira answered coldly. Alaric’s frown deepened as he turned to Calira. He remembered the request instantly. After all, it was the first time he commissioned Sarana for an assassination. In all honesty, it had been the first time he had spoken to Sarana the assassin without his father present.

“That was years ago,” Alaric muttered darkly. Calira scoffed at the comment.

“Not that long ago. It was only 4 years ago,” she replied. Alaric glared at her rebuff.

“Besides no one knows I ordered the hit, unless you told someone!” He remarked as Calira narrowed her eyes at the thought.

“Are you suggesting I broke my word and talked about my kills with someone?” she asked as anger rose in the pit of her stomach.

“How else would he know it was I who ordered the hit?” Alaric argued. He could tell his betrothed was infuriated. Her eyes were narrowed and seemed to burn with an eerie fire that burned his soul.

“Perhaps you accidentally let it slip in one of your court orgies!” Calira accused as she folded her arms across her chest. She wanted to appear hostile and menacing but due to her size, or lack thereof, she felt her point wasn’t getting across as well as she hoped.

“I have not participated in any orgy!” Alaric rebuffed. His body tensed and Calira watched him bristle at the thought.

“However, there is a chance I may have let it slip after I’ve had some wine and have been…seduced,” Alaric conceded as Calira frowned at the admittance.

“That’s disgusting,” she muttered darkly to herself. By now, Alaric had abandoned his shirt on the chaise and was unloosening his boots. Calira would never admit it out loud, but her betrothed was incredibly handsome and fit. He looked like a true rogue with his hair partially covering his eyes and his breeches unbuttoned. Calira felt heat rise to her cheeks as she watched him slide his boots off. She quickly regained her composure and walked to the portrait, intent on leaving the room as soon as possible.

“Where are you going? We’re not done talking!” Alaric remarked. Calira scoffed.

“You’re undressing in front of me. I can see you don’t wish to talk. I’m going to bed,” She replied harshly. Years of animosity would not be extinguished in one day simply because he handed her a dagger and most likely, saved her life.

“You can undress if you feel I’m being too forward,” Alaric drawled as he leaned on the post of his canopy bed. Calira scowled before disappearing out of the room. Her heated cheeks betrayed her as she appeared in her own bedchambers. She searched the room and found several ways an assassin could enter without her knowledge.  With an ease she had learned over the years, she stripped herself of the cumbersome dress. Then with haste, she set to block all of the entryways. The balcony became blocked with her armoire. The front door was locked. The windows were chained together. The only entrance she left alone was the one that led to Alaric’s room. She’d trust him that much, she thought to herself. Her eyes drooped in exhaustion and she collapsed onto her four-post bed.