The doors to my office slammed open and close, shaking the ground beneath me and making the dark liquid in my coffee cup swish around. I'd purposely kept it unlocked this morning so I wouldn't have to answer the door though I doubt Sorin would stop at a single locked door. He stormed in, red-faced, his steps still wobbly from anger or the lasting effects of the drug, and he cleared the space to my desk in minimal steps. His hands slammed on my desk, and a small amount of my coffee spilled over the mug's edge.
"You drugged me?!" He roared. Fallon and Kaius broke through the door too, looking at me for orders to kick Sorin out or at the very least, calm him down. I waved them off and slowly looked toward Sorin.
"Well good morning to you too, Lieutenant." My lips tugged into a half-smirk. "How'd you sleep?" I watched the vein in Sorin's forehead pop out. He leaned forward, his face now mere inches from mine. Then, with a rough, dead voice, he spat,
"Mark my words, assassin, I'm going to go to the king, and I'm going to tell him you drugged me in order to shake me, to get rid of me. You did something last night -something you didn't want me to see- so you drugged me. What was it?"
I widened my eyes innocently. "I don't know what you're talking-."
"Cut the shit, assassin!" His fist pounded on the table again. Calmly, I covered the top of my mug with my hand and moved it away from the middle of my desk so it wouldn't spill. Then I folded my hands and leaned on my arms. Now our faces were barely an inch from each other. He didn't back away.
"You had a lot to drink last night, Lieutenant. You were stumbling on the way home and barely made it to your room before collapsing. It's not my fault you didn't know how much you could handle." There was a hesitation in Sorin's face as if he was still recollecting the events from the prior night. Then, he pushed off the desk and wiped a hand over his face.
He began pacing. "No. No. I remember you giving me a flask for a-a payment or something. Then I remember my vision blurring and a tang in my mouth and the next thing I knew, I woke up this morning." Finally, Sorin stopped and faced me. "Where did you go?" He hissed. Before answering, I dismissed Fallon and Kaius. They nodded, glanced at Sorin, and left.
"I was at home all night, listening to your drunken singing. Then, this morning, you were still passed out and I didn't have the energy to wake you, so I came to work by myself. That's all that happened-."
"Bullshit!"
"Interrupt me again," I said slowly, straightening my back. Sorin's lips curled.
"I'll do whatever I damn, please! You drugged me!" I opened my mouth to retort but Sorin went on. "I'm going to the king and I hope to god he sends the Guardians to come and skin you alive!"
I smiled. "The fact that you think it'll take an entire militia to take me down is flattering, Sorin -really it is- but you're not going to the king." Sorin exhaled irritably.
"Why the hell not?!"
"Because if I'm going down, I'm taking you with me," I said slowly. "I'm not one for protecting a person who wants nothing more than to prosecute me, so no, you will not go to the king." Slowly, I stood up, leaning on my desk. "What would you tell him anyway? That you were drinking on the job, got intoxicated, and didn't follow me for a solid 12 hours? That you were so reckless that you took something from an assassin?"
Sorin cussed. "For the last time, you drugged me!"
I shrugged and folded my arms across my chest. "You have no evidence, and even the king can't overrule the law as much as he'd like to." He began pacing again.
A hundred or so years ago, to prevent an outright dictatorship, the leader of the time created the Core Defense. It kept the king from making quick and rash decisions that could suffocate the country. It's made of two branches -the Panel and the Guardians. The Panel was made up of six advocates for each of Ravaryn's provinces, running laws through the king and vice versa, while the Guardians kept the peace. They enforced, imposed, and endorsed the laws the Panel makes, and over the years, it'd gotten more difficult to go undetected. I felt the noose they'd started to string around my neck tightening.
Sorin pulled the flask from his jacket pocket and threw it on the table. "This is enough evidence." I snatched it before it hit my coffee.
"Will you stop throwing things around?! Damn!" Slamming the flask down on the table, I righted myself. "If you want to go to the king, be my guest. But don't blame me when he punishes your scrawny ass for drinking on the job and letting your guard down. He may throw you into the dungeons just to let his anger out. Plus, the drug is already out of your system and untraceable in the drink, and I have many witnesses that will testify that you were drunk out of your mind and left without me. As far as anyone knows, I clocked out ten minutes prior to you, and you, drunk, followed me home then blacked out. You can't prove I gave you the flask, you can't prove you drank a drug, and even the king can't deny the evidence stacked against you."
Sorin took a surprised step back, his skin pale. All the color from his tanned skin drained as it sank in that I was right. Watching his eyes narrow, I stared at him, watching how his finger ran across the pad of his hand anxiously. "Well, you've just thought of everything haven't you?" He seethed.
"Yes," I whispered, "that's what makes me good." We stared at each other for a while, neither of us wanting to be the first to break away. From the humidity, a bead of sweat dripped from his brow down his cheek. Then, suddenly, he stormed out without another word and slammed the door behind him.
____________
Two days went by. It was midnight, and I'd snuck out of my room, recruiting Fallon to move around every few hours so Sorin -still giving me silent treatment- didn't get suspicious and try to follow. If he knew I had agreed to help the daughter of his boss go against him, the Guardians would be at my door within hours. I'd be dead within days.
Underneath the Viper's Den, there was a training floor, hidden from the general public. Sometimes when money was tight, I'd host fight nights, bloody and expensive to get into, to get us back into business, but usually, it's just a training basement. On the North wall, there was an array of knives as well as other weapons used for close-range combat and different holsters and sheaths. The middle of the floor had a simple mat for sparring, but with the air being so damp, the edges of the mat were beginning to mold. There were only a few light fixtures, lanterns hanging from the ceiling and lining the walls, so the room was dark adding to the ominous feeling. Beside me, Princess Sophrinia shuddered.
"Not exactly what you were expecting?" I asked, not looking her way but instead to Rafe, setting up the arena. She dropped her cloak to the ground, revealing a riding outfit, probably the best she could get. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, and her face was freshly cleaned and bare.
She stepped forward uneasily. "Not necessarily." A pause. "Who did you say was training me?" I finally looked at her, studying how she examined Rafe curiously. His sleeves were yet again rolled up, his pale skin gleaming under the yellow light and his hair slicked over his forehead. He was concentrated -so concentrated he hadn't even noticed us entering.
I watched the princess's stares and said, "Rafe, come meet the princess formally." He glanced toward us then soundlessly made his way to me. I swayed my head to him. "Rafe, this is Princess Sophronia. Princess Sophrionia, this is Rafael or Rafe, whichever you prefer. I don't care. He's your trainer." Rafe, much like the princess, looked her over with an inquisitive gaze then took her hand and shook it formally. She gave him a small smile. Their hands stayed connected.
Only when I cleared my throat and raised my brows did they finally fall from their trance and step apart, both looking to the ground. "Anyway...'' I started, glancing at both of them exasperatedly. "For your first few sessions, I'll be overlooking the training. Then, I trust you'll be comfortable enough on your own," Rafe smiled sheepishly so I added, "or with a guard who'll be paid to report any... shenanigans." His smile was replaced with a glare.
I gave him a look back and he subdued. "Alright, let's get started shall we, Princess?" Rafe asked, now completely ignoring I was there at all, his mood changed in a split-second.
The princess nodded in reply but put in, "Sophie is fine. There's no need for formalities." Rafe scoffed and chuckled, handing Sophie a knife.
"But 'Princess' is more fun to say, don't you think?" With a raised eyebrow and small glare, Sophie's hand wrapped around the hilt of the blade. She looked to it, testing its weight by tossing it to each of her hands. "Let's see what you got," Rafe murmured, mostly to himself. He took his place on the mat and motioned for Sophie to do the same. She swallowed hard, grasping the knife hard in her hand as if trying to gain the courage to do this or mildly second-guessing her decisions. In the end, she stepped onto the mat and crouched down to a defensive position.
Sophie wasn't as awful as I thought she was. Of course, she held the knife wrong and her stance looked like she was constipated, but she had spirit and fight. Yet, clumsy and uncoordinated, she wouldn't last a second when attacked. Rafe went easy on her, his movements slow and predictable, eyes narrowed expertly, not wanting to hurt her. She was getting frustrated, but her patience was promising, unlike Rafe who'd start throwing stuff.
Around an hour later, after many reps and many quick tips, Sophie walked back to her side of the mat. She reached up, wiping her forehead with her sleeve, and exhaled deeply.
"Again," Rafe said roughly. Sophie glowered at him but nodded, going back to her stance that Rafe had mediocrely corrected. He attacked first, swinging his knife at her and lunging. Sophie dodged him but gave him an opening. Grabbing her wrist, Rafe was able to pull her toward him and spin her so her back was to his front. He bent her arm so her own knife was against the base of her throat. She was forced to look up, breathless and panting.
"Better. You actually dodged the first few strikes. You need to stay on the balls of your feet and keep your elbow down though. It's not boxing." He released Sophie who gave him a small shove back in irritation. I finally stepped forward.
"Move, Rafe." He did as I said, moving away from the mat. I went to Sophie, circling her. "Show me your stance." She did. With my own foot, I shifted hers back. "Bend your legs more. You'll faint if your knees are locked. Relax. Relax your body, your arms, your shoulders. Fighting is worse if you're tense, and if you are injured, it hurts like hell if you're tight." Listening to me, Sophie relaxed her muscles, but she was awkward with the knife.
"Give me the knife." She hesitated but handed it over. "You need to learn hand to hand before moving onto weapons." A sigh of disdain escaped her lips, yet she curled her hands into fists. My steps stopped. I cussed under my breath. "God. Give me your hand." She did. "Keep your thumb outside your fist instead of inside. You don't want to break your fucking hand. Keep your fist tight enough so it stays in shape when you strike someone but loose enough that your arm shakes. Here," I stepped back, "hit me." Her eyes widened.
"What-?"
"Hit me," I repeated. "Don't make me repeat myself." All of the confidence in Sophie shattered. She stepped back, her fists relaxing. I raised a brow. "Yeah, that's fine, don't want to bruise your clean, soft hands right? Did you just get your nails painted while getting fitted for a new fancy dress made of the finest silks?" Sophie's lips curled. Her shoulders straightened.
"Stop it-."
"Is that an order, Princess? Are you ordering me around now? I get that your bastard of a father is a king, but I had no idea that gave you the authority to boss me around. You're only a princess... but then again not for long." Her lips tightened into a line. "You're betrothed to a big, strong man of another kingdom because your father doesn't trust you to run a kingdom. And why would he? You're just a girl with an attitude problem who is only good for getting fucked-."
I was cut off by a fist to my cheek. The metallic taste of blood rushed into my mouth, trickling down my chin. When I opened my eyes, Sophie stood in front of me, panting again, face red, shaking her fist as if she'd hurt it. I smiled, wiping the blood with the back of my hand, smearing it across my cheek.
"Now that is something we can work with." Sophie's eyes narrowed as if finally figuring out that I was only trying to piss her off enough to make her hit me. She scoffed.
"Father's right. You are insane."
My smile broadened. "Aw, your father talks about me? I'm flattered." My smirk fell. "Now, let's get back to work."
_________________
My head bobbed as sleep clawed at me, attempting to take me. I jolted upright, my pencil in my left hand tightening. My right hand reached up as I realized a drop of drool had begun to slip from the crease of my mouth down my chin, and I stretched my aching neck. Outside, the soft pitter-patter of rain thrummed against the window, like a melody slowly rocking me to sleep.
It'd been a week and a half since we began Sophie's lessons, so four times in the past week I'd only gotten three or so hours of sleep, much less than usual. I felt the toll it was beginning to take on me. I'd find myself trying to doze off during work hours and sleeping in. Rafe was doing the same, but he didn't have to get up to complete rounds as I do or stand watch as some of the others do.
"You look atrocious, assassin," Sorin commented from across the room. I looked up through my lashes at him, not in the mood. How long he'd been looking at me, I didn't know nor did I care.
"I see the silent treatment is over," I sighed, turning back to my papers.
Sorin smiled wearily. "Hm, yeah. It's amazing how nice I am when you don't drug me."
I raised a brow. "You just insulted me."
"Yes well, you did drug me, so don't expect me to be exactly friendly to you."
Smiling, I said, "Don't care." Sorin glared at me. We were quiet for a long time. It was only until I nearly fell asleep again that Sorin spoke.
"Haven't been sleeping well?" He asked. Again, I paused my writing.
"Why do you care?"
His lips curved up into a half-smile. "Because banter is no fun without a second person. You haven't made fun of me in a week." I sighed and set my pencil down softly, trying not to let my short temper boil over.
"I'm sorry, do you need me to remind you how much of an insufferable, aggravating, intolerable, half-wit of a man you are, the hundreds of times I think about it every day?" Sorin continued smiling and staring at me.
"Well, it'd certainly make my days brighter."
My brows creased. "In that case, you are a handsome, smart, heroic, incredibly talented soldier who in no way makes me want to gut you alive every second you spend with me." Now, Sorin frowned deeply.
"I never said to mock me, Ms. Drystan." I smiled.
"What? I'm doing exactly what you wanted: bantering." Before I looked down, Sorin spoke again.
"Do you really think I'm handsome?" He boasted, leaning on my desk flirtingly.
"On the contrary, I think you're repulsive."
When he laughed, his voice bounced off the walls. "That's not what most women say."
"Yeah well," I sighed, "most women just want to fuck someone famous no matter the looks."
"Are you one of those women?"
"No. I'm famous enough." Finally, this shut Sorin up. He allowed me to continue my work in silence, his arms folded in his lap, his face red with anger.
Finally, the only sound was again, the light tapping of rain against the glass.