Page 2 of Null & Void

He easily blocks my blow. “Oh, tiny little Mika, would you like me to practice on my knees so we are the same height?” he jibes and then tries to jab me in the stomach.

I dodge effortlessly, amused by his usual taunts. “Does it bother you that I am the size of a child and still beat your ass?”

He laughs heartily before chasing me, our bo staffs slamming together in multiple crosses. We swap blow for blow, charge for charge, taunt for taunt, both trying to catch the other off guard.

It’s not long before I’m panting and sweating, though Leian remains composed. I block one of his charges, but he immediately recovers and aims for my head. I narrowly miss being smashed in the ear as I duck, then use the opportunity to swing at his feet.

Leian realizes it too late, and I sweep him onto his backside with a thud. I offer him a hand up as he groans. “Small and deadly as always. Just once, I would like to win against you, Mika,” he laughs and readies himself for another round.

“I could let you win if you’d like?”

He charges me without another word.

I usually win but Leian is never anything but eager and enthusiastic to keep going. We continue until I’m shaking and breathless, and I’ve not lost a round.

“So, can I ask why this is the last time, or should I just be grateful there was one?”

As we stretch on the giant mat in the center of the barn, I give him an emotionless rundown of what Jaena told me, cursing myself for saying anything at all.

“I’m sorry Mika. I’ll miss your presence,” Leian says, sounding genuine.

He’s likely the only one who would, except for maybe the kids I nanny in the children’s compound. The thought of breaking the news to them tomorrow completes the souring of my mood.

I help Leian finish packing up the rest of the practice weapons before saying a final goodbye. Sweaty and sticky, I debate risking the bath house. It’s still too early, the private baths are usually all occupied at this time, and there’ll definitely be too many people in the communal ones. Far too many for my volatile state right now.

My housing complex is a mass of double rooms with a shared bath house nearby. The kitchens where we eat are shared with another three housing complexes, and there are four separate sittings for each meal. I’ve already missed mine, so there will be no dinner for me, but I always keep a stash of supplies in my room.

Once I reach my rooms, I start a pot of water for a quick soup and get changed. I note I’ll need to do laundry before I’m collected by whatever Nemoris escort is sent for me in a few days.

Stalking around my room in my underwear, I contemplate Leian’s words while I gather up dirty clothes. He’s right—I’m small. Everything about me is small actually, except for my bug-looking eyes. It works in my favor when sneaking about, making it easy to disguise myself as a child or young man. I’m proud of the lean muscle coating my body, even though my lack of more interesting curves can sometimes grate. I snatch up the last tunic on the ground from in front of my mirror.

The dim light makes my skin seem darker than it is, though I’m still very pale, as is typical for all Mievaborn. No freckles or birthkisses. And somehow, despite the many fights I've been in, not a single scar…except for the ones I’ve accidentally given myself. I flex a palm in the mirror, the lantern light reflecting the silvery lines on my fingers.

I am unmemorable, like a good assassin should be.

Why am I even looking at myself? Worried about what my new Ofnemoris overlords will think of me? I snort in disgust at my vanity but cannot help myself as I turn to appreciate my butt with a smirk.

I plop onto my sofa near the stove. My sitting room is basic and unadorned, with only this gray sofa, a small table with two wooden chairs, a stove, and a large cabinet full of kitchen items. My bedroom is through an archway in the back with a tiny window. Similarly sparse, the focus of both rooms are the weapons leaning against the walls.

The pot starts to boil, so I throw on a tunic before digging through the kitchen cabinet. I add mushroom powder, a wrinkly potato, an onion that’s starting to sprout, and some nondescript dried meat to the pot. It’s simple but delicious and filling.

With a satisfied stomach, I stretch out on my sofa again and let my mind wander about who kidnapped the Princess Ofnemoris and why. It intrigues me that Jaena didn’t give me more details, but maybe she doesn’t know. Monarchs from the five countries stopped requesting to purchase the Silent Assassin many revolutions past when they were consistently told she wasn’t for sale. The fact that Nemoris put in a bid now, surprises me.

That they succeeded, chokes me with rage.

I haven’t been an assassin for almost an entire rev. I quit when my last job required me to kill a woman who threatened the Ofmieva crown. I didn’t realize the threat she posed was because the king had raped her, and she was now carrying his bastard child.

I did it though. If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else. I put a sleeping draught in her dinner and sliced across a lifeblood line in her neck as she slept. She went to sleep and never woke up. I was never allowed to ask why I couldn’t simply ensure the baby died and let the mother live, considering she was almost full-term.

The whole thing was the last straw for me. Especially when I learned that the king had died of a heart attack before I assassinated the woman. His only other living relative is now the queen. My suspicions have always been that the king’s death was not natural. But it matters naught to me now.

After that, I told Jaena I was done being her assassin for hire. I’d sneak and spy, but no longer kill for her. I’m sure Jaena thought I was bluffing, especially after everything she’s done for me. But it’s ten moons later and I've refused three jobs, losing her the gold I would have brought in.

Few people outside Osraed city are aware that I am—or was—the Silent Assassin. They might know the legend, but if they’d met me or heard my true name, they wouldn’t be able to connect the dots. A handful in the compounds know who I am and what I used to do for the council, especially the Patrons living in Osraed who’ve never been sold, like Leian.

A small few took it upon themselves to learn exactly who I was several revs ago. Jaena said it was my own fault and nothing could be done, even though I wasn’t the one who leaked my identity. Apparently, I should’ve stayed locked away in my rooms unless I was actively on assignment. Jaena expected me to be her monster on a leash and nothing more. Thankfully, my anonymity has mostly remained intact for the last few revs.

Other assassins weren’t vilified like I was, but being a Null—and a woman—made me especially heinous. Petitions to the council about my position as a nanny arose not long after my identity was leaked. “Corrupting the youth,” they’d said. Everything was reviewed in massive hearings that took moons. Denied. Every single one was denied, and it was never petitioned again.

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