Page 52 of I Ran Away to Evil 2
The creature spat the bottle of highly dangerous potion onto the ground and lay down beside it, batting it playfully with soft paws. The poison swished around inside, a beautiful swirl of red with black flecks.
The guard landed with a brutalthudin front of the duke, rolling down two stairs before catching herself. The duke lowered his arms, staring at the grimalcat.
“Lord Peter, secure the assassin!” I yelled, tossing my one and only pair of Veralyn’s Enchanted Restraint Manacles at the human. He was partially straddling the elf, who’d pulled a knife from somewhere.
“Get off me, you knave!” she screeched. She wasn’t going down without a fight and stabbed at Peter. My instincts were correct, and the awkward young man dodged the knife while making a strangledeepsound. He whacked the elf in the wrist, yelling a panicked, “[Disarm].”
At that point, three guards had their swords pointed at her throat, five martial guests had acquired weapons and encircled the assassin, and one young Lord Peter was cuffing her with Veralyn’s Enchanted Restraint Manacles.
“Thank you, everyone.” The duke shoved his glasses back up his nose and brushed off invisible dust from one sleeve. “And thankyou,Lady Tate. If you reallyareLady Tate, maybe we will finally have some answers.”
According to my skill [Detect Fake], the lady wasn’t using any abilities to change her appearance or voice or otherwise disguising herself. She was either a very good look alike, or the real thing.
“I’m just the beginning.” The assassinpouted, so I was leaning toward this being the real Lady Tate. “The boss won’t let you live.”
“Take her away,” Duke Wyldon said coldly. He reached up and smoothed out his pinched brow. “I’ll see about getting information out of you to take down your boss before she has a chance to succeed. Happy birthday tome.”
She clamped her mouth shut at that and glared, saying nothing more as the guards dragged her off.
I noticed the grimalcat had returned to the head table; the molten ash vane was nowhere to be seen. He sat on a higher-than-normal chair near the middle of the table, and his vibrant green eyes blinked slowly at me when our gazes met.
He broke eye contact when Duke Wyldon swept down the stairs and up to the grimalcat, bowing low before the creature.
“Thank you, Slake; I don’t know what I would have done without you.” The duke smiled, and his face lit up with appreciation and a rare softness. “I owe you one.”
Slake raised his eyebrows and sniffed.
“It was just an assassin, my friend.” The grimalcat spoke with the accent of the Empire of Sands, with its drawn-out vowels. His delicate black wings flared a bit and settled down; a subtle wing shrug. “Who counts assassins? I have a new interesting sample; that is payment enough. Ah … and head scratches?”
“Of course, but let me address my other guests first,” the duke said with all seriousness before turning to us. Duke Wyldon coughed. “Welcome to my humble celebration, friends and family. Please, find your seats, and we can have lunch.”
As if on cue, Bronwynn began playing again, her music light and upbeat. The summer sun shone down on her sparkling dress, and I stared at her longer than I should have. I was one of the last to take my seat, which happened to be directly beside the grimalcat at the head table.
Even the novelty of sitting beside a grimalcat couldn’t drag my attention away from the beautiful minstrel playing in her corner. I wasn’t in the mood for the lavish food being carried out. My stomach churned even as the usual lyre filling my ears would have otherwise soothed me. This wasanotherevent with the bard and an assassination attempt using molten ash vane.
The thought filled my mind so much that I didn’t notice when the grimalcat turned his attention to me.
“Commander General Rufus?”
The voice drew me out of my head. “Yes … I’m sorry, I do not know your title?”
The grimalcat’s little green horns and green eyes were the only thing of color on the inky black creature, until he smiled and showed off his sharp white teeth. “Adventurer Slake Drakeford. A pleasure to meet you.”
Wait.
How did I not know that one of the most successful and powerful people on the continent, Slake Drakeford, Dungeon-Conquering Adventurer Extraordinaire, with more loot than a kingdom … was a grimalcat?
CHAPTER 28
You Can’t Judge an Assassin by Their Dress
Brownie
This always happened. The duke had almost died, and here Brownie was, playing away the afternoon with some lighthearted string music.
At least the experience points were good.
The rest of the afternoon was an excited murmur of contemplations among the guests. Duke Wyldon was an upstanding member of the royal court, nephew to the king, and he kept good company. As such, the conversations available for eavesdropping were of excellent quality.
