Page 34 of Decoy

He pointedly avoided glancing in my direction as he fought for each hyperventilating breath with such struggle it was as if the oxygen had been sucked from the air.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

He kept his gaze fixedly averted as he motioned with his chin towards my cut. I glanced back and forth between him and the still bleeding gash on my arm. This clue, along with the memory of his response to his own cut the other night, provided me enough evidence to form an uncertain hypothesis.

“Are you…afraid of blood?” Surely I was mistaken. After all, the man was anassassin.

He was silent a long moment, whether in avoidance to my question or due to his current inability to speak, I didn’t know. Eventually he recovered enough to shakily straighten. “Of course not. What a ridiculous notion.” His voice hitched, betraying his lie to present me with the most delicious revelation.

“Youareafraid!” His expression twisted like he ached to deny it but couldn’t quite manage the refutal. I smirked. “Well, this is a surprising turn of events. To think an assassin is actually scared of—”

“Shh, not so loud!”

He hastily glanced around as best as his near-faint state allowed to check for potential eavesdroppers. When he was certain we remained alone, he straightened his shoulders in an attempt at confidence his lingering pallor contradicted. He wrestled with himself a moment before finally giving up the fight.

“I may not be fond of…that stuff, but I wouldn’t go so far as to claim I’mafraidof it.”

It wasn’t lost on me that he couldn’t even say the word. “You’re not afraid ofwhat?I didn’t quite catch that.” In my delight at this surprising turn of events I couldn’t resist teasing him; the sting of my arm and the potential resulting scar was well worth uncovering one of my enemy’s secrets. “I don’t quite understand. It can’t harm you.”

“Iknowthat…logically.” But he didn’t appear entirely certain. His nose wrinkled as he cast my cut a sidelong glance…only to immediately cringe and hastily yank his gaze away. “Ugh, it’s so awful—crimson, sticky, and disgusting, with its acute metallic scent assaulting my senses and making me sick…I loathe it.” He shuddered.

A startled laugh escaped before I could contain it. His resulting glare was weak, nothing more than a boy attempting to stand up to a bully.

“It’s not the least bit amusing. Thisweaknesshas given me no end of grief.”

I pressed my hand to my mouth in an effort to contain my mirth. “I know it’s not, it’s just…an assassin afraid of blood? No wonder you resorted to poison rather than slitting my throat; you were afraid of the resulting mess.” I felt a twinge of regret that this had been his reason, the part of me that had hoped his gesture in not finishing the job had been bestowed in mercy rather than out of fear.

“Whatever my reasons, you should be grateful.” With another struggling breath he closed his eyes, looking much too pale.

A flicker of compassion twinged my breast enough for me to venture a cautious step close enough to graze his arm. He stumbled back as if I’d burned him; he must have been quite out of it not to have noticed my approach. I took strange pleasure at the thought that he wasn’t the only one who could catch the other unawares.

“Don’t be alarmed, I just want to encourage you to breathe with your head between your legs; you’re looking very pale.”

“It’s impossible to breathe with its assaulting presence.”

Something about his vulnerability was not only endearing but immensely attractive. Thankfully, my blush at the errant thought was masked from his sight when he reluctantly obeyed my instructions.

“I’m displaying a lot of trust in exposing my back to you; it would be difficult to defend myself in such a state.”

Considering there was no risk of him seeing it from his position, I allowed my smile to break freely. “Trust is good for any relationship. I’m demonstrating my own by being alone with you despite your recent demonstration that you have little regard for my life.”

“You can’t seriously be feeling threatened around someone so pathetic.” He took several slow and steady breaths as he fought to regain the rest of his crumbling composure. “It’s no use; I can still smell it.”

“If you have a handkerchief, I can bind my wound.” The gesture was rather unnecessary due to how shallow it was, but considering the circumstances it was likely best to hide it as I was beginning to feel pity for the poor man, an emotion that felt out of place midst my usual aggravation.

He practically flung it at me. “Two daggers and now my handkerchief. You’re certainly a demanding woman.” The fact he could tease me gave me hope that he was beginning to feel a bit better.

“You can take your possessions back when you kill me.”

“Killing you would be ideal to ensure your silence about what you just discovered.” But his weak tone was without any hint of threat, giving strength to the peculiar thought that had been forming at the back of my mind.

“Have you ever actually killed anyone?” Though it was nothing more than a wild guess, in this moment it was difficult to believe hecouldmurder anyone with such an intense reaction to blood.

His current vulnerability made it impossible for him to hide the secret he was certainly desperate to keep hidden. “Of course I have. Many times.” But once more, his voice hitched in betrayal.

So many questions assaulted me at once. If he hated blood and killing, why was he anassassinof all trades? The questions were nearly impossible to contain, but I forced them back. Such burning curiosity was dangerous in the face of my enemy, even if it felt impossible to fear a man afraid of blood and murder.

For a moment I was too startled to speak. “Truly? Interesting…”

---