Page 7 of The Dragon King's Assassin

Chapter Five

Safe in my one-room apartment, I changed out of my professional clothing and into a more casual outfit, though still discreet. Black was perfect for night work, but to blend into the background at the Royal Palace, I'd need something less stark. I chose a pair of brown pants and an indigo tunic. A glance in the mirror over the dresser had me grimacing. Even in my nicest clothes, the palace servants would be dressed better than me. Oh well, no sense in lamenting something you can't change.

Despite the outfit change, I still needed my assassin gear. So I slipped my vest on and covered it with a light jacket. I went with a pair of brown boots, but the heels were just as flexible as my black ones, and I filled the secret slots running down the sides of my calves with more of my tools. After a quick splash of water on my face, I packed a small trunk with clothes, tools, and a few necessities, then tied some rope around it to form two straps. Sliding my arms into the straps, I settled the trunk on my back like a traveling pack.

“Now, to get back inside,” I said as I headed out.

I knew I couldn't go through the front gates. The avenging knights would snatch me up before I got anywhere near His Majesty. But they hadn't found my rig, so I felt confident in retracing my steps.

Around me, the city of Mhavenna had come fully awake. Its inhabitants strolled the streets, going about their business, most of which was legal at this time of day. Not a single one of them paid me any mind, even with a trunk strapped to my back, and that made me grin. I loved this city. I loved the congestion that many people hated. The press of bodies that I could get lost in. Several races called Mhavenna home, but as a port city, it also played host to some very exotic travelers who brought very exotic things to sell. The air was laced with the scent of fine perfume, roasting meat, sea salt, and a hint of sweat, and full of a cacophony of carriages, hawking merchants, and, depending on where you were in the city, either birdsong or the call of ambitious whores. After midnight, the mist rolled in from the Vevaren River and crept through the streets like a sorcerer's spell. It was paradise.

I bought a sausage from a street vendor and stood across the street from the Royal Palace, pondering. I wasn't contemplating running. I knew that the King had spoken the absolute truth when he said he could find me by my scent. Dragons were renowned for that ability. You know, on top of breathing and controlling fire, flight, and the whole turning into enormous, winged lizards thing. They had magic in addition to the control of fire, but no one knew exactly what it was. Secretive bastards, those Dragons.

I finished off my sausage, licked the grease from my fingers, and strolled across the street. The Royal Palace didn't have curtain walls like a castle. Those walls were around the city itself, with proper battlements and wall walks that could be patrolled by the Horns—soldiers in the Dragon King's army. Not like these shorter, narrower walls that were more of a reminder to the rest of the city of who lived within them than a true barricade. Everyone knew that if you went beyond those walls, you'd be faced with either Dragon knights or the soldiers they had trained. Only a fool would cross that border. A fool or an assassin.

It was trickier during the day. No shadows to hide me, plus I was carrying some extra, bulky weight. But the route I'd chosen was the least populated, down a side street that was less used. I walked slowly, waiting for the single pedestrian—a water-dwelling Neraky, fresh from the river at the end of the lane—to pass by me before I approached the wall and, with a quick movement, launched a grappling hook over it. Those pretty iron horns that topped the walls, both decoration and warning, were the perfect size for my hook to grip. In seconds, I was over the wall and dropping back onto the royal grounds.

I didn't go into the palace but instead crept around it, sneaking alongside high bushes like a thief, hiding whenever I heard footsteps. Finally, I made it to the King's garden and the very shed I had climbed the night before. My U ring was still in place with the cord attached to it, dangling down the front of the building. I drew the rope up, affixed a new grappling hook to the end, and set up my launcher.

Once more, I found myself shimmying over the garden, this time I crossed above a patrol who entered the area when I was halfway across. I didn't stop, that would have been foolish. I figured if they saw me, so what? I'd be in the royal bedchambers before they could do anything about it. And if they had the balls to bust into the King's bedroom, they could explain to His Majesty why they were hunting his assassin. I nearly laughed at the thought, it was so absurd. But, as luck would have it, the idiots kept to their routine and never looked up.

I crawled over the balustrade, dropped silently onto the balcony, slipped my trunk onto the floor, then used my lock-picking tools to unlock the doors that I had locked the night before. I suppose I could have just knocked, but that would have alerted the soldiers below, and I was having too much fun evading them.

Just as I was reaching for the door handle, it turned and one of the doors swung open. I stared up the impressive length of King Tarocvar Verres, who stared back at me with a lifted brow.

“What are you doing, little mouse?” he asked.

I grinned and stood. “As you said, Your Majesty, the palace was made aware of my new position here before I left the building. Unfortunately, that didn't work out in my favor.”

“Yes, I heard about what you did to those three Dragons.” His lips twitched, then gave up the fight and spread into a smile. “As upset as I am that they attacked you after I dismissed them and made it clear that you are now mine, my pleasure for your proficiency is greater. Well done, Assassin. I am impressed.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“But you didn't need to creep back into my bedroom. The knights have been escorted from the palace grounds and your welcome has been made known to all.”

“Made known to all but me, Sire. Besides, it gave me some added insight into your security.”

“Did it?”

“Yes. In short, it sucks ass.”

The Dragon King laughed and the sound went straight to my groin. At least he was fully dressed now, though not in the royal raiments one might expect. Instead, he wore a simple pair of black pants, boots, a crimson silk tunic that matched the sheen of his hair, and an unadorned belt. His hair was braided back, making his features seem even sharper than they were, and his crown was absent. I wasn't surprised by the outfit; I'd seen him dress this way often enough to have gotten over His Majesty's lack of pomp. But seeing him in his casual attire up close did strange things to me. For example, I had a terrible urge to grab his braid and use it to pull his mouth down to mine.

“I'm glad you returned. I was wondering if you'd try to run.”

“I failed at my job, and that should have meant my death, but you gave me another chance. I owe you, and I gave you my word. I'm here until my debt is repaid.”

The King stared at me for a minute, then said, “Come inside, Lock.” He turned and strode across his bedroom, waving at his closet as he passed it. “You can put your things in there for now.”

I grabbed my trunk, went inside, set the trunk in his closet—wait, no, make that his dressing room—then followed the King out of his bedroom, down the hall, and into a small dining room. Three people sat at the long table, all Dragons, distinguishable by their angular features, and all finely dressed, more so than the King. One of them was a woman, which meant that these were not soldiers. Dragon females did not fight; they were excused from such duty. Not because they were incapable of it, far from it; the females were often more terrifying than the males. But as the gender that bore those precious Dragon babies, they couldn't be risked in battle. So, who the fuck were these people, and what were they doing at the Royal Palace?

King Tarocvar took the most elaborate chair at the head of the table and waved a hand at an open seat beside the dark-haired woman. She slid a green gaze my way, looked me over, and dismissed me. Did I mention that the females knew they were valuable and tended to be even more egotistical than the males because of it?

“This is Locrian,” the King said. “My assassin. Lock, these are my advisers. Balahar,”—he waved at the only blond in the room—“Sha,”—his hand moved toward the woman—“and Mikbal.”

“Please, tell me you're at least going to kill him after he helps you find those who hired him,” Mikbal drawled.

My stare met the King's.

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