Page 111 of The Dragon King's Assassin

Chapter Forty-Five

We managed to find a carriage on the other side of Bracken Road and had the driver drop us forty feet from the palace. We split up at the back wall; the Nerakians heading for the front gate while I went to the stretch wall I'd scaled earlier—the one I had used to leave. Dropping back into the side garden where I'd eavesdropped on the doctor, I went still and listened a moment to make sure no patrols were about. Then I made a mad dash to the royal gardens. No time for creeping now.

As I ran, I heard shouting. I flattened myself against the palace wall just as a unit of knights ran past me. That was yet another issue I'd failed to address; when something went wrong, every knight left their post and headed toward the disturbance. Sloppy, but again, I was grateful for it. Teng and his men would hold everyone's attention long enough for me to get to Taroc.

Once the knights had passed by, I made another sprint for the royal gardens. The gardens were empty, the remnants of the King's rage already removed. A glance up showed me that the doors had been hastily repaired and the windows were dark. The King was finally at rest.

I fastened on my climbing claws and scaled the wall. Within seconds, I was on the balcony, casting aside my claws in my haste to reach the King. The temporary doors weren't much more than wood panels with hinges. No locks, nor was anything wedged against them. I just pushed one open and slid inside.

“Taroc?” I automatically widened my eyes to adjust to the dark, but that was unnecessary; I could see. Colors were muted, but other than that, my vision was good. I would have wondered over that, but I was too worried about the King. And then I saw the dog lying to my right. She was on her side, tongue hanging out of her open mouth and eyes closed. “Ren?” I shook the animal, but she didn't stir. “Fuck!” I looked up and sought the King. He was stretched out in a new bed. “Taroc!”

“Lock?” the King's rough voice came seconds before the fireplace sparked and the wood there caught.

“Thank the Gods,” I whispered when I saw him sit up. “What's wrong with Ren?” I knelt and shook her again. “Ren?”

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Taroc snarled as he climbed out of bed. Once on his feet, he stumbled, shook his head, and scowled at me. “Fuck, there's something wrong with me.”

Just as I was getting up to help him, the bedroom door opened and Captain Vettan strode into the room.

“Your Majesty!” Vettan rushed toward Taroc.

“Stay away from him!” I shouted at them both as I also ran for the King.

“What?” Taroc looked from me to the Captain. “Captain, how did—”

The Captain grabbed the King's bicep with one suddenly clawed hand and swung at him with the other. Taroc turned toward Vettan, his eyes widening. Then I barreled into him, taking him to the ground and away from Vettan's claws.

“Taroc, focus!” I slapped his face.

“Lock,” he murmured. Then his hands clenched in my clothes. “Lock, you're really here!”

“I was going to let you live, Assassin,” Vettan said as he ambled over to us. “I did you a courtesy by leaving you in that alley. But you couldn't stay away. Foolish. Very foolish. Now you will die with your lover.”

“Vettan?” Taroc narrowed his eyes at the Captain.

“I'll be right with you, Your Majesty,” Vettan said as he reached for me. “Just as soon as I kill your assassin.”

“What the fuck?” Taroc shook his head again as if trying to clear it.

Vettan grabbed me by the throat and lifted me as if I weighed nothing more than a pillow, easily breaking Taroc's hold on me. I didn't have my lightning gloves on, but I did have a few options within reach. An assassin is always prepared for murder, whether it be his target's or his. Even as I strangled, I carefully withdrew a slender dagger from my vest and, with a swift, downward strike, stabbed Vettan through his forearm.

Vettan howled as he let go of me. I landed on the ground in a heap as the Captain lifted his forearm and glared at the blade skewering it.

“Heal that, motherfucker,” I said.

“Lock!” Taroc cried.

Drawing in ragged breaths, I stumbled to my feet and pulled two, far more substantial daggers from the sheaths in my boots. I could have gone for my gloves, but they were dangerous in such close quarters. He could grab me and then I'd be frying along with him. So, I went with the daggers. Settling into a balanced stance in front of Taroc, I stared down my enemy at last. Or rather, I stared at him, finally knowing that he was my enemy.

“You're right; I am a fool, CV,” I said. “I didn't see it. It was right there in my face—your initials in that book. It never even occurred to me that Yusef was using titles, not just names. Assassin Locrian, His Majesty the King, and Captain Vettan. You needed someone with the same initials to take the fall for you. Did you plan for that? Is that how you had Crushei's letter ready to find in Yusef's desk? I assume you took it when it was delivered to the palace. It never reached Paslan.”

Vettan laughed. “And then the King sent me to search Crushei's house. All I had to do was hide the note Yusef sent me and the dagger I'd used to kill him in Crushei's house, then pretend to discover them in front of the other knights. Setting him up couldn't have been easier.”

“The button was a mistake, though,” I said. “Yusef must have grabbed it while you were killing him. Did you have to dispose of your clothes? Is that the real reason you changed them? They must have been covered in blood.”

“No. I know how to kill without dirtying my clothing.”

“Or your hands. What was it that you called a man who hired an assassin? Oh, yes, a fucking coward. Hold on, no, that wasn't you, that was Hersk. You only agreed with him so he wouldn't suspect you.”

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