Page 7 of A Deception of Courts

Where are you?

“Wait,” Althea hissed into my ear. “Just wait.”

“What was that?” Duncan shouted back at the Hunter. “Come a little closer and say it again. This time, put some effort and inject some confidence into your command… perhaps I might believe it.”

“Another step, and you’ll find yourself pierced with arrows like a turkey during yule.”

“Where is she?” I asked Althea, finding words difficult as my heart thumped in my throat. Duncan was drawing their attention to him, but that was useless if our guest never showed.

“Seraphine will come,” Althea replied. “Have faith in her promise. She has not let us down yet.”

Faith. Such a strange concept. It did little but encourage hate and spill blood. I was certain there was a beautiful side to such a thing as faith, but I’d yet to find it.

I bit down on my lower lip, filling my mouth with the sharp taste of copper. It was the only thing stopping me from giving in to my anxiety and shattering.

“Now, now, I have only come to have a chat. Hunter to Hunter.” Duncan was out of view, but his voice was ever more powerful. “How about it, a little heart to heart. Me, you and… my blade?”

“Hurry…” I said, my inner thoughts now controlling my words. Ice crackled across my closed fists, numbing my palms as my nails dug into them. An icy chill wind gathered from the dark street behind us and pushed at my back as though to urge me forward.

A whistle cut the night just as it had back in the Cage. I could have fallen to my knees as another returned the call, then another and another, until the sky was full of signals.

“NOW!” Althea cried, but I was already running.

Lucari squawked, unleashing her cry of war as she took flight alongside Kayne, who followed with blades raised, into the main parade.

I released the magic I held, called out in silent prayer to Altar for support and lead my allies to battle. All in time to witness the Children of the Asp reveal themselves among the crowds of unprepared Hunters. One by one, the assassins drew their blades, spilling the blood of our unexpecting enemies all across the streets of their oh-so-great capital.

CHAPTER 3

Conception of this plan started three nights ago, which so happened to be the last time I’d killed a Hunter.

Even as the one I held onto in the present time, skin turning to diamond glass before he could do so much as scream, I still felt the remnants of blood from my last victim across my hands. No matter how many times I scrubbed at them, the feeling of sickly warmth refused to leave.

After tonight, I would need to bathe in the ocean for an eternity to rid myself of the feeling death left in its wake.

Unlike the nameless Hunter, whose body shattered into thousands of star-like pieces across the courtyard before Lockinge Castle, the one I’d murdered those nights ago had a name. One I refused myself the peace to forget, even though the dirty pig deserved it.

Peter Torr. He was a stout human man with black hair thick with grease. When he ran his hand through it, his fingers looked wet. He bore the symbol of his master, the Hand, across his chest, wearing it with pride. His stained tunic had wrinkled when he sat down in the dirtied tavern in the Cage. I imagined Peter simply expected that the mark upon his tunic would’ve benefited him a night of free drinks and free sex with any of the tavern’s patrons he so wished.

It was Seraphine who had provided insight into his whereabouts that night. And she had been right. Peter sat upon one of the rickety barstools, its legs screaming with protest at his unwanted weight. Big meaty hands slapped upon the bar as he demanded the attention of the young barmaid who pulled pints of ale for those who had the money to pay for them.

I sat and watched him in the darkened corner of the stale-smelling tavern, hood drawn over my head to hide the points of my ears from view. Before the Hunter had entered, I felt a thrill of being out in public after days holed up with Duncan, Althea and Kayne in the dwelling that had become much more a prison than a home. That bubble of excitement for being free popped the moment Peter barrelled in with his slurred yet demanding voice.

“Fill it all the way,” he spat across the bar, making the young barmaid wince. From fear or disgust, I was at too much of a distance to be sure of which. I determined it was likely both. “Bet you’re good at that, girl, aren’t you? Getting filled up… and I can certainly do that for you.”

I couldn’t hear what she mumbled in reply. But I did witness the wash of red pass across her face, and how she moved quicker to give the Hunter what he wanted just so she could get away from him.

Peter drank and drank. The more time passed, the more I convinced myself just how easy this would be. I still couldn’t touch a single drop of the amber-hued liquid in my tankard for fear I’d vomit or grow hazy, when all I needed to do was focus.

Seraphine, as I learned to trust, was right about a lot. Perhaps that was what being an Asp was, more so than hidden blades and sleight of hand. Information. Knowledge.

Four drinks. That was all Peter handled before he dug his cumbersome hand into the pocket of his trousers and produced the very thing I’d come here for.

Keys.

I found my lips turning upward as he did what Seraphine had warned he would do. Men. Predictable creatures. Not all, but most from what I learned.

From his pocket, with swollen hands, Peter pulled free the large metal hoop and upon it, three slim keys hung. I recognised them instantly from the night in the cage when Duncan had allowed Althea, Gyah and me to free ourselves of the iron collars that strangled our throats.

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