Assassins dagger, p.1
Assassin's Dagger, page 1
part #2 of Thirteen Realms: Thief of Souls Series
Assassin’s Dagger
Marina Finlayson
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Shadows of the Immortals series
The Proving series
Magic’s Return series
Thirteen Realms series
Thirteen Realms: Thief of Souls series
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright © 2020 Marina Finlayson
www.marinafinlayson.com
All rights reserved.
The right of Marina Finlayson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Act 1968 (Cth).
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the author.
Cover design by Karri Klawiter
Editing by Larks & Katydids
Published by Finesse Solutions Pty Ltd
2020/07WBM
Author’s note: This book was written and produced in Australia and uses British/Australian spelling conventions, such as “colour” instead of “color”, and “-ise” endings instead of “-ize” on words like “realise”.
To be notified when Marina Finlayson’s next novel is released, plus get special deals and other book news, sign up for her newsletter at:
www.marinafinlayson.com/mailing-list
Created with Vellum
1
All morning, I had hunted the golden stag through the forests of Autumn and into Summer. Now he rested, a man again, at the foot of the mighty oak tree, unaware that death perched above him. Hidden among the bright green leaves, I lay stretched out on my stomach on a wide branch, watching him sleep.
How weird was my life? Less than two months ago, I’d been playing in a band with my fae friends, working at a real estate agent’s office during the day. I was half fae, but my magic had been so weak it was hardly worth mentioning—and now here I was, one of the most powerful people in all the Realms of Faerie. Sometimes I felt as though my body would split open like an overripe melon from the pressure of all the magic that fizzed inside me these days. It was a dream come true.
Plus, I now killed people for a living. That was a bit of a change from sitting behind the reception desk at Thomas & Granger’s, answering the phone all day, smiling at clients until my face hurt, and trying to fend off the more handsy of the agents.
Technically, of course, I hadn’t actually killed anyone yet, though it had been three weeks since I became the leader of the assassins known as the Night Vipers. That was why I was hiding in a tree in the magical Realm of Summer, looking down on a deerkin who was soon to become a corpse.
His skin was the same warm gold as the velvety hide of the stag; his eyes, when they had been open, were the rich brown of chocolate, deep and soulful. At the moment, those eyes were closed, his breathing slow and steady. Long, thick eyelashes rested on his golden cheeks, and from his chestnut-coloured hair, magnificent antlers sprouted. They knocked against the trunk of the oak as he shifted in his sleep, but the sound wasn’t enough to wake him. He had travelled a long way to this resting spot deep in the green forests of Summer, and he was tired.
Maybe I should have been tired, too, after the chase he’d led us on, but I was fired up with anticipation, eager to claim my first kill as a Viper. To my right, on a branch of his own, lay Ash, my former instructor in the dark arts of assassination. My training as a Viper had barely begun before I’d become his leader instead—the Serpent at the head of the mighty Viper organisation.
Strands of Ash’s brown hair fell across eyes the colour of a rain-swept sky. Long and lean, he wore all black—as did I, but he made it look all kinds of lethally sexy. His stillness reminded me of a puma; all that strength coiled tight, stalking his prey with infinite patience.
Sensing the weight of my gaze, he met my eyes, his grey glance cool and controlled as ever. He turned his attention back to the target, but not before I saw the concern that seemed ever-present lately. He watched me as if I was a bomb that could blow at any minute.
That concern had been there ever since I’d taken up mighty Ni’ishasana, Thief of Souls, claiming the magic dagger from the previous Serpent before the man’s body had cooled. None of the Vipers quite knew what to make of their new Serpent—a former apprentice, suddenly turned Adept, before I had even made my first kill.
Today, that, at least, would change. My target slumbered at the foot of the tree, almost directly beneath me. He hadn’t sensed us as we’d tracked him through the forests. He was deerkin, with the prey instincts of any deer, yet he had run wild and free under trees blazing with Autumn gold, his hooves kicking up a carpet of russet around him, unaware that danger nipped at his heels.
Now the time had come for me to truly join the Vipers, to prove that I was one of them and worthy to wield Ni’ishasana. The blade was a peculiar wavy shape, almost like a lightning bolt, and would have required a wide sheath, but the strange, silvery zigzags of the fae steel were too beautiful to hide away. Besides, I trusted Ni’ishasana not to cut me.
Moving with infinite care, I pulled a tiny vial from my breast pocket and carefully unstoppered it. Inside were a few drops of poison. Night viper venom—taken from the green- and yellow-striped snakes for which our assassins’ guild was named. The night vipers were our emblem and our tool. Nowhere else in all the Realms of Faerie did they exist anymore, except in our secret Nest, where we bred them for their venom.
I tipped the vial and let the viscous liquid slide out onto a cushion of Air. Air magic was mine to command now, thanks to the power of Ni’ishasana, along with just about every other magical power there was in the Realms.
It was a heady feeling. My previous life, where even creating a simple ball of faelight had taken effort, seemed like a dream already half forgotten. Now, magic came to me easily, eagerly even, ready to fulfil my every wish.
I blew gently on my cushion of Air, guiding it toward the ground and its target, the precious drops of venom held safely within. Ash lay like a statue on his branch beside me, and nothing disturbed the still of the forest except for the soft twittering of a nearby bird. Everywhere was green and silent, like a great natural cathedral. The sun shone Summer-bright overhead, but it filtered through the massive canopy of the oaks so that the light fell in green sparkles, illuminating the leaves and making them glow like stained glass.
The venom sank lower, glittering in that green light like precious diamonds. My target’s mouth was slightly open, relaxed in sleep. All I had to do was guide the venom to his lips and death would follow within minutes.
I held my breath as a soft breeze whispered through the leaves, but my magic had a firm grip on its precious cargo, and the venom didn’t spill. It hovered just above his face, and I smiled as I guided it the last few inches toward his mouth. Piece of cake.
As I released the pocket of Air and let the liquid fall, he moved in his sleep.
The clacking of his antlers against the tree disturbed him. The venom missed his mouth and splattered onto his cheek instead, and suddenly he was fully awake, with the instincts of one who knows he is prey. Those liquid brown eyes snapped open, wide and startled.
His hand went to his cheek and found the unfamiliar moistness there. He rubbed it off, then sniffed suspiciously at his fingers. In an instant, he was on his feet and the change shivered over his body. Gone was the golden-skinned man in brown leather trousers and a loose white shirt. In his place stood a golden stag, the powerful muscles of his hindquarters bunched, ready to leap away from danger.
I rolled quickly, dropping from the tree like a stone, but Ash was faster. He landed on the stag’s back, knife already in hand. The deerkin reared in fright, tossing back his antlered head, but Ash clung like a barnacle, slashing his throat before his hooves found the earth again.
The deerkin staggered, knees buckling, and Ash slid from his back in a smooth movement. Blood gushed from the gaping wound across his neck, and his eyes rolled in helpless terror.
I closed in, Ni’ishasana in hand, the dagger scenting blood and eager to taste the dying life—but the stag’s proud head sagged to the grass before I could obey its wish, and the light went out of his soft brown eyes.
Fury swirled within me as I watched blood spread across the leaf litter, soaking into the forest floor. “Why did you do that?” I hissed at Ash. “He was my target. Mine to kill.”
The dagger in my hand pulsed with fury at being denied the taste of another soul. Every fae it killed, whether it chose to revive them as a mindless slave or leave them dead, fed its power, adding to its stores of magic. Its rage pressed against my mind, po
“I was afraid he would get away,” he said blandly. “I’m sorry if I have offended you, Serpent. I only did what I thought best.”
“What you thought best,” I repeated with heavy sarcasm. I could tell he was lying. “You’re not meant to think; you are meant to obey.”
“How was I disobedient? You didn’t order me not to kill him.”
I ground my teeth, burning with frustration. “You knew I wanted this kill, Ashovar.” I found some brief satisfaction in the way he flinched when I used his full name, the way his father had done. Celebrach had wielded Ni’ishasana before me, and Ash had hated him. He didn’t like the reminder that I now held his reins instead. “This kill was mine, and I didn’t need your help.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Another lie. Why do you lie to me, Ashovar, when you know I can see inside your soul?”
“You’re mistaken.” His tone was bleak as a winter gale. “I have no soul.”
How dared he stand against my wishes? He wanted to play all cold and frozen? I would thaw the bastard out.
I cried out in frustration and hurled a blast of Summer heat at him. I sent the heat spearing into his body, licking along his veins like molten fire. He fell to his knees with a gasp, but made no other sound, though I could see his limbs shudder with pain.
He didn’t try to fight back. Though I knew that this was because of Ni’ishasana’s nearness—the dagger permitted no treachery against its wielder—it still frustrated me. I wanted him to scream and shout, to fight me, so that I could scream and shout back. Find some outlet for the wild fury inside.
But Ash was famous for his icy calm, the way he closed himself off from others. For a while, it had seemed as though I might worm my way past his boundaries, but Ni’ishasana stood between us now, an impassable barrier. I let my power die and watched that proud neck sag in relief.
He remained on his knees for a long moment, bowed over the body of his kill, before he pushed himself to his feet, moving like an old arthritic man.
“All right,” he said. His voice was harsh, racked with the pain I had inflicted. “You want the truth? I did it to spare you.” His eyes were unutterably weary, as if he knew he was fighting a battle he could never win but still had to try. “You’re not a killer, Sage, and killing changes a person. You never wanted any of this. You were never meant to be a Viper at all. Don’t you remember? You took up the burden of the dagger to save your friend, Raven. This isn’t you.”
Raven, yes. He of the night-dark wings and mocking smile. I could see his face in my mind, but there was no emotion attached to the memory. He was no longer important.
“Not so long ago, you meant for us both to escape the Vipers,” Ash went on. “Together.”
He moved closer and put tentative hands on my shoulders. His body still trembled with the memory of the pain I had inflicted, but he handled me gently, like the most delicate glass. As if he was afraid I would shatter at his touch.
Seemingly of their own volition, my hands crept up his chest, my fingers tangling in the folds of his black shirt.
Why would you leave the Vipers? the dagger whispered, its myriad voices singing in my mind. You have everything you want now.
“We can still be together.” I stroked my hand across the firm muscles of his chest. The warmth of his body penetrated the thin fabric, and his heartbeat surged beneath my touch. He was not as cold as he wanted everyone to believe—particularly not where I was concerned. “We have the world at our feet now. There’s no need to run.”
“The dagger has changed you,” he said, “and you don’t even realise it. The Sage I knew hated assassins. She would never have stayed once freedom beckoned. You are stronger than this, Sage. But you must give up the dagger while there is still time, before it gets its claws too far into you.”
My hand dropped away, and I stepped back. Give up the dagger? Give up the bottomless well of power that it brought? He was mad.
Mad or treacherous, the voices whispered.
Treacherous? I waited, but Ni’ishasana said no more. I sucked in a breath as it hit me.
He wanted the dagger for himself.
Sudden rage boiled within me, and a red mist coloured my vision. “Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I can’t see what you’re doing? You will never have Ni’ishasana.”
His eyes widened, as if in surprise. The man was a consummate actor. “I don’t want it. I hate it. I hate what it does to me. What it’s doing to you.” His voice rose, and the birds in the trees around us fell silent. “Listen to yourself, Sage. This is the dagger talking. You must give it up, before it’s too late.”
“I must, must I?”
My voice was calm, but he stepped back. Yes, that was right. He should be afraid, with his treacherous talk. He was right to fear punishment.
I raised my hands and sent Summer heat searing through his veins again, but this time, I held nothing back. Power flowed between us, bright and terrible. This time, he didn’t suffer in silence. He fell to the ground, a scream wrenched from his tortured throat, and the sound pierced me like a knife.
What was I doing? I couldn’t hurt Ash like this.
Yes, you can! the dagger roared. Teach him his place! He cannot be allowed to separate us.
A wave of molten rage washed through me, blasting away any other emotion, leaving understanding in its wake. Of course. The dagger was right. Such outrageous behaviour didn’t deserve mercy.
“Why do you make me hurt you, Ash?” I crooned, leaning over him. Through our bond, I could feel his agony, and it tasted sweeter than honey. “You know I don’t want to hurt you. But treachery cannot go unpunished.”
His screams died abruptly as he sank into unconsciousness. I stared down at him dispassionately. In the throes of agony, he had rolled in the blood of his victim, and dried leaves and dirt were stuck to him, smeared across his cheek and tousled through his hair. Rage still burned within me, but the fire was banked for the moment, the need to punish assuaged.
I opened a gate into the Wilds and used my Air magic to flick his unconscious form through the opening in a swirl of scattered leaves. Then, I stepped through behind him, the tickle of threshold magic skittering across my skin, leaving the dead body of the deerkin alone in the silent forest.
Contract fulfilled.
2
The great dining hall of the Vipers was packed to the rafters, the tall stained-glass windows throwing swirls of colour across the grey floors as the morning sun set them ablaze. Everyone seated at the four wooden tables that ran almost the entire length of the room rose in a thunderous wave as I entered with the Adepts, wooden benches scraping back over the stone floor.
I led the way to the high table that sat perpendicular to the long ones in a silence broken only by the occasional cough or shuffle of feet, all eyes on me as I took my seat in the throne-like chair that had once been Lord Celebrach’s. Not until I was seated did everyone else resume their places.
The seat on my right was empty. Nuah sat at my left hand. Her bright red hair reminded me of Willow’s, although the Adept’s was straight and tamed into a neat braid, where Willow’s sprang in a riot of curls from her head. One of the silent, grey-clad servants glided over to fill my wine goblet, and I drank deeply. Why was I thinking of Willow? She was in my past and no longer important.
