Page 108 of The Dragon King's Assassin

Chapter Forty-Four

After dropping to the ground on the city side of the palace wall, I yanked my lower mask down and braced my hands against my knees, panting and processing. I needed a fucking drink.

I could have gone anywhere for a bracing beverage, even at that time of night. The city had shaken off the modesty of the day and slipped into something a bit more comfortable. More sultry. Far more dangerous, even in the best parts of town. But I didn't head toward a bar in a nice part of Mhavenna. I didn't want to sit among the well-bred assholes spewing their bullshit. I wanted to go home.

I hailed a carriage and had the driver drop me on Bracken Road. At that time of night, even the bravest of carriage drivers wouldn't go past Bracken. But that was all right; I was good with walking. Most people in the Broken knew me and even those who didn't, knew enough to stay away from me. I made it to the Shrieking Ghost unmolested. I almost wished that hadn't been the case; I could have used a good fight.

Once I was inside the Ghost, I felt instantly at ease. I nodded at the Raltven I knew as I wove past the regulars. The whores knew to stay away from me as well as the pickpockets and thugs; they drew out of my way politely. Too politely. I looked around and caught several people quickly averting their eyes. Right, I wasn't just Locrian anymore. Now, the whole fucking city knew what I did for a living.

Running with the Raltven Wraiths had earned me a certain amount of prestige and notoriety in the Broken, but an assassin was a different kind of beast. People feared the Raltven gangs, sure, but the gangs functioned under their own laws. Unless you wronged them or got in their way, they wouldn't fuck with you. An assassin, however, didn't live by any laws. I was a wild card now. An unknown threat. And people in the Broken had enough known threats that an unknown was a type of god. A dark god who demanded sacrifices, but a god nonetheless. And this god had stood at the King's side.

“Rum,” I said to a passing waitress.

“Sure thing,” she said breathlessly and scurried away.

I found a table in the back, sat down, and began to replay the events of the night in my head. This was only the beginning, surveillance took time, so I wasn't concerned about how little I'd learned. In fact, I was impressed that I'd overheard so much on my first foray. Taroc . . . no, I couldn't deal with that yet. Let's move on to Vettan.

The Captain may not be the man who hired me, but he was the one who betrayed me. I didn't hold a grudge against the doctor; I'd stolen from him, and he reported it. Fair enough. But Vettan must have taken that information and twisted it into a devious tale in which I played the villain. He had been the one to turn Taroc against me. It was his words that had convinced the King that I was trash before he'd found me in that alley.

Had Vettan been the one who bashed me over the head? Possible. He could have waited for me to leave the palace, had me followed, then come for me when I was vulnerable. As the Captain of the Palace Guard, it would have been easy enough for him to leave the palace without raising suspicion. Then, once I was comatose, he'd have the time to scurry back to the King and spew his vile in His Majesty's ear.

His Majesty is in love with that man, and you just tore them apart! I flinched at the memory.

Right on its heels came a vision of Taroc tearing apart his bedchambers. His brutal body had seemed even larger than usual and perhaps it had been. He had appeared to be on the verge of shifting. I admit that was something I'd love to see. City Dragons rarely shifted into their creature forms; there just wasn't the space for it. They'd have to take to the sky and that might cause a panic. So although I lived in the royal city under the rule of a Dragon, I'd never seen one of them in their dragon form.

“He's probably gorgeous,” I whispered.

“What's that?” the waitress asked as she set down my drink.

“Nothing.” I handed her a silver coin. “Bring me the bottle, would ya, sweetheart?”

Her eyes widened at the coin, then she snatched it, and quickly shoved it down her bodice before anyone else got a look at it. “You got it, Locrian. Anything you need, you let me know.”

That's another thing about the Broken, money could get you just as much respect as fear, more even, but only if they feared you first. Otherwise, all it got you was dead.

I set to brooding over Taroc's temper tantrum and how fucking beautiful he was even when he was acting insane. Was it wrong that watching him toss his bed through those doors had turned me on? Oh, who the fuck cared? He wasn't mine anymore. Never had been. I suppose what I should say is that I wasn't his anymore, but that didn't feel accurate either.

“Here you go, Lock.” the waitress set down a fresh bottle of rum, still corked, a loaf of even fresher bread, and a pot of butter. When I lifted a brow at the bread, she said, “You need a good foundation for that rum. How about a bowl of stew too?”

“No, thank you. This is good for now.”

“All right, Lock. You let me know if you change your mind.”

“I just need some time alone with this bottle.”

“You got it. I'll make sure everyone leaves you the fuck alone.”

“I appreciate it.”

That last bit alone was well worth the silver and came with the added perk of helping someone in the Broken who was trying to make an honest living. Honest was the hardest living to earn there. The Gods know I'd tried.

I was a quarter down the bottle when someone made it past my guardian waitress.

“Lock!” Tengven grabbed my arm.

“Whoa!” I held my glass away from him. “Watch it, you almost spilled my drink.”

“Fuck, how drunk are you?”

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