The Battle for Astodia Read online

  ASSASSIN

  Copyright © 2015 by Maryam Durrani

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1511859113

  ISBN-13: 978-1511859113

  To my parents, who never gave up on me.

  The king stepped off the dais, pacing. His adored wife, Queen Celeste, sighed softly. “Please sit down, dear. All this pacing is giving me a headache.”

  The king shook his head. “Leave me be.”

  The queen caressed the silky braid that hung over her shoulder as she leaned back on her throne, waiting.

  Suddenly, the doors flew open. The sound of a child wailing was heard. A man in his late twenties walked through hurriedly, holding a baby in his arms.

  “They’ll be looking everywhere for her,” he said, his breath short.

  The king stepped down from his throne, taking a look at the baby. “We need to hide her somewhere she’ll never figure out who she is. Give her to a family. I will give you the coordinates,” he said. The man nodded.

  “Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” the queen asked.

  “Yes. This is our only chance to take out the rebels once and for all,” the king replied, stroking his dark beard. “We will take her back when she’s older. Then, she shall start her training.”

  The queen nodded, closing her golden eyes for a moment. “Let me hold her.” The man brought the child closer, and as he set her in the queen’s arms, the wailing ceased.

  “Her eyes are beautiful,” she whispered. “They’re the most peculiar shade of gray.”

  “Take her away,” the king ordered. The man took the child from the queen’s loving arms and hurried out of the room. King Sadim’s eyes fell on his wife. “Don’t become too attached,” he warned. “Not yet.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.” The queen frowned at him. He sat back on his throne.

  “She shall bring peace to this kingdom once and for all.”

  Seven Years Later…

  “Stop!” the queen ordered. “Stop the carriage!”

  The entire line of horses came to a halt. People waved and cheered as their beloved queen returned to the kingdom.

  A soldier riding a horse pulled up next to the carriage. “What’s wrong, my lady?”

  “There’s a little girl who almost got trampled by the horses in front!” The queen threw open the door, skirts in hand, hurrying out. A little girl, around seven years old, crouched on the ground. She looked up at the queen with her misty gray eyes.

  “Hello,” the girl said as she got to her feet.

  “Why did you jump in front of the carriage?” the queen asked gently, bending down to take the little girl’s hand. “You could’ve gotten hurt. You’re old enough to know that.” No one made a sound.

  “I was saving the kitten. It was about to come under the wheel,” the girl explained.

  “Where’s your family?”

  “I don’t have one,” she shrugged. “The kitten is my only family now. Her name is Blackberry. Isn’t she beautiful?” The girl raised the dark kitten up for the queen to get a better look. Her heart ached for the little girl.

  “Come with me,” she said, reaching out her hand. “Let’s go. I’ll find you a family.”

  The girl nodded. She saw the king watching her from the carriage warily as she followed the queen. The kingdom erupted into cheers.

  In the carriage, the queen bent closer. She smelled like roses.

  “What’s your name?” she whispered.

  “Adalia,” the girl smiled, braiding her dark hair like it was

  an old habit. “My name is Adalia.”

  ONE

  I bent low at the balcony, slipping out my bow. It was the dead of night. A cool breeze swept through my hair, and I fought the urge to shiver. I kept my eyes open for any signs of movement, staying hidden in the shadows, a bow in my hands. One slip-up could cost me my life.

  The king couldn’t afford to ruin his reputation by letting out the fact that he had a secret weapon. The secret weapon, I must say, was a brilliant one. A master of disguise, beautiful, stunning, dramatic—you got the point. Right now, the secret weapon was in use and in action.

  I waited for the target, bored out of my mind. He was supposed to meet someone out here. Slowly, I nocked an arrow onto the bowstring and exhaled, crouching.

  Suddenly, I saw the slightest movement out of the corner of my eye.

  A tiny shadow.

  The barest twitch.

  I rolled to my right as fast as I could and cursed under my breath as an arrow pierced the place my head had been just a few moments ago. There was no time to move.

  I heard a loud laugh as someone approached me, their shoes clicking on the floor.

  “I knew you were coming,” the man said, amusement col-

  oring his voice.

  I shrugged, slowly getting to my feet. As I did, I slid a small knife out of my boot, hiding it up my sleeve. “Don’t get too excited—this will probably be the last time something like that happens to you.”

  “Drop it,” he ordered. I tossed the bow in front of his boots, holding up my hands. “Don’t tell me you’re the one the king sent,” the man laughed humorlessly again, his voice echoing against walls of silence. “His ‘weapon of destruction’? That’s right,” he said as he took in my surprised expression, “I know about you.” Well, that was a first.

  “What does it matter to you? Are you afraid of a little girl?” I pouted, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I exposed the knife, the silver blade glinting in the moonlight, causing him to take a step back. He eyed it warily.

  “Give it to me,” he ordered. “You’re not the only one with dangerous instruments here.” He pulled out his pistol. I calculated the chance of my blade hitting his heart before he could pull the trigger, but even I couldn’t perform miracles. I slowly put my hands up, irritated.

  “Drop the knife.” I gripped it tighter.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “What do I want?” He burst out laughing, slapping his knee as if it were the funniest thing in the world. “The real question is; why are you here?”

  My face fell. Tears began to well up in my eyes as I dropped the knife. It clattered to the floor. “He’ll kill my family if I don’t do as he says. He’s holding them captive.”

  He lowered his pistol just slightly, his eyes softening. His lips were still set in a hard line. I could see him struggling with himself internally, trying to make a decision.

  “You can run. Run now, but don’t kill me. I’m doing this for my family. Wouldn’t you do the same if you had to save your mother?” I whispered.

  “I suppose,” he sighed, lowering his pistol altogether. “I won’t shoot you now, but you have to get out of here,” he scowled. “You—”

  “I’ll leave,” I promised. He was unguarded. Plans calculated in my head. “Your pistol . . . What kind is it? I’ve never seen that one in my life,” I suddenly asked, interested. Of course I knew what it was. It was a flintlock pistol, a rare weapon.

  “Why the hell do you care?”

  “I need one to protect myself if I’m going to be on the run.”

  He scratched the back of his neck with the end of the gun’s barrel. “It’s a—”

  In a quick flash, I leaned down and grabbed the knife. Gripping the blade between my fingers, I aimed it the arm he was holding the pistol with, and threw it.

  The pistol was knocked out of his hand as he screamed in pain. The man shouted curses at the top of his lungs, attracting too much attention.

  “Shut up!” I hissed, walking towards him as he bent over his arm, protecting it from any further damage. I raised my boot, giving him a push. He fell to the ground with a thud, blood drippin
g from his wound and pooling on the floor.

  Suddenly, he lashed out with his leg and hit me in the back of the knees. I bent forward, balanced myself, and rolled my eyes.

  “You’re too gullible.” I leaned over him and grabbed the pistol. “Take it,” I offered. He snatched at it, but I pulled the weapon away just in time. “This was too easy. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  His eyes were glinting in the moonlight, full of rage, his teeth bared. I sat on my haunches, grinning, and flicked his forehead.

  “He doesn’t really have your family, does he?” the man groaned, sweat shining on his forehead.

  “You don’t say?” I scorned.

  He moaned, clutching the knife protruding from his bleeding arm, and yanked it out.

  I got up and walked a few feet away, then turned to face him. I aimed the pistol at his head. The last look on his face was begging me to let him go, to give him another chance.

  I wondered why the king wanted him dead.

  “It’s not your place to know,” the king had said on my first day, and I’d never asked again. It wasn’t my job to wonder.

  As I pulled the trigger, I made up a random excuse in my mind that made it easier to get the job over with. This time, the story I came up with was that he murdered children and women for the fun of it. There. Now I had a reason to take his life.

  As the loud bang rang out, I nodded to myself.

  Job well done.

  I was merciless. Unwelcome. I never thought, only acted. Action was what I was bred for.

  I tore my gaze away from the limp body and grabbed my bow before anyone could see me.

  I swung over the edge of the balcony, jumping onto another roof and sprinting. I leaped from roof to roof towards the castle where the king was waiting for my report.

  I imagined him pacing.

  All he did was pace.

  He paced after he lost his wife. He paced when he heard about a rebel movement. He paced when his guests were late for dinner.

  As I sprinted, I pushed the dark hair out of my eyes and leaped again, making no sound as I disappeared into the night, one with the shadows.

  TWO

  They trusted me.

  I held the kingdom on my shoulders, and even though king never showed it, he knew it too. He’d appointed me as the head guard and his personal adviser. Every meeting, every ball, I stood next to him—people knew me, but no one knew I was his assassin. The ones in the castle had been sworn to secrecy.

  “You carried out the plan?” I heard the king’s voice as soon as I stepped through the doors of the throne room.

  “Of course, Your Majesty.” I bowed low.

  “You’re exceptionally clean today,” the king said, relaxing on his throne—jeweled mahogany.

  He was talking about blood. “I shot him in the head from a distance. He didn’t even see me,” I lied. When you were someone like me, you had to lie to stay out of trouble. The king was frightening when he was angry.

  He nodded in approval.

  Just then, someone entered, boots clicking against the polished floors. I didn’t turn my head towards the intruder, but the look on the king’s face said it all.

  “Xavier, my son.”

  “Father,” he greeted.

  Xavier Cane was the most troublesome prince I’d known in my entire life, and I knew many princes. He was not someone I enjoyed being around. Even the sound of his voice put me on edge, but I showed no hint of any emotion towards him. He strolled past me, the scarlet cape dancing around his ankles. His dark curls showed off their shine from the many chandeliers hanging above us. Xavier’s black leather boots completed the dark vibe he sent off. He wasn’t horrible looks-wise, but his attitude was one any assassin—or any human being for that matter—could hate. Unless, of course, you were one of the jittery female servants or royalty that visited the palace just to get a look at him.

  “Why are you here?” the king asked warily, and Xavier bowed, making sure he stood right beside me.

  “I just wanted to drop by and congratulate Adalia on her latest mission,” Xavier said with a smile, glancing at me out of the corners of his golden eyes and winking.

  I set my jaw, hands clasped behind my back.

  Xavier decided to continue. “How was your latest mission?”

  “None of your business,” I said smoothly, with a covert scowl.

  “Now, now, Adalia—”

  “Don’t call me that,” I scowled, my eyes shooting daggers.

  “Fine,” he shrugged, unfazed. “Now, now, Assassin, that’s not how you talk to your prince,” Xavier tsked. His lightly tanned skin showed that he’d been spending more time outdoors than usual—probably riding. “You’re staring.”

  “Leave my presence.”

  “Let’s take this outside, shall we?” He motioned towards the king who watched us through narrowed eyes. We walked out of the throne room, and as soon as the doors shut, I hit him as hard as I could dare, and with enough force to rattle his bones. He staggered back as the guards watched, but they didn’t dare make a move towards me.

  Xavier kept his cool and regained his balance. “I guess we’re even, then.”

  I turned on my heel and stalked off. He fell into step beside me.

  “Why are you always so angry?”

  He had the nerve to ask. I pivoted on my heel to face him, stopping abruptly and looked up into his eyes, scowling. “I’m really not. I just loathe you.”

  The prince smiled at me and rested a hand on my shoulder. He pitied me.

  “One day, you’ll be like the other girls and try to court me. It happens all the time; the hatred is just a cover for the true feelings underneath.”

  My jaw dropped in disbelief. “You—” I stopped myself, deciding it was best if I ignored him and walked away, muttering insults under my breath. This was what he did. He drove me insane.

  No one got under my skin like Xavier did, and he knew it.

  “Xavier, stop following me, or I’ll kill you. And believe me; it’s not hard for me to do something like that.”

  “Alright. However you wish.” He flashed me a killer smile any other girl would’ve swooned over, and walked off.

  Xavier Cane, I strongly dislike you.

  Later that night I sat in my room on my bed, yawning and stretching, ready to sleep.

  I was exhausted. Being an assassin wasn’t easy. I had so

  much blood on my hands from the past years that the number of people I killed was, well, uncountable at this point.

  The nightmares had stopped at age thirteen. Now, it was just a game of hunt.

  I pulled the covers over my head and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

  The next day, I was invited to have breakfast with the king.

  “Your Majesty,” I greeted with a slight curtsy. I wore a loose-fitted white tunic, brown pants, and knee-high boots. My dark hair was braided down my back, and a sword hung in its sheath at my hip—a gift from Queen Celeste herself. It was something I could never part with. My fingers rested on the emerald pommel as I entered the room.

  I sat opposite of the king, preparing to eat. Before I could lift the spoon to my lips, the doors opened. To my disappointment, Prince Xavier walked in.

  “Good morning,” he drawled. His hair wasn’t combed down today like it usually was. He sat to my right. I pretended to adjust my chair, accidentally setting one of the legs on the toe of his boot. I apologized with a bittersweet smile when he grunted in pain. He cursed under his breath, and was then scolded by his father. I shot Xavier a smirk.

  We waited for the king to start, and when he did, we piled our plates with delicious food—Astodia’s finest.

  As we ate, the king broke the silence. “Assassin,” he addressed me as if it was a very casual thing to say, “I have another assignment for you. Your target is Duke Charleston of Dystalphi. His arrival is scheduled for tomorrow, and he will be staying close to the castle. Find him.” And that was it.

  That’s
all he said to me.

  I accepted, but it wasn’t like I had a choice.

  I felt Xavier’s boot touch mine and looked up. Meet me later, he mouthed.

  All that could be heard was the clinking of utensils against the plates.

  I waited for Xavier outside. I crossed my arms over my chest as he appeared, walking past the doors and into the courtyard.

  “What?” I asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to give you a friendly reminder; the duke is staying in an area that is highly protected. He is also a personal adviser to the king of Dystalphi, so don’t leave a trace behind because we can’t afford to lose our alliance. We don’t want another war, understand?”

  I bit back a snide remark. This time, he was serious. I nodded solemnly.

  He patted my shoulder. “Please don’t die. I do enjoy teasing you. You should see your face when you’re bothered. It’s as red as a tomato.”

  I rolled my eyes. There was no point in arguing. “At least I’m not an ugly hag.”

  He bowed. “Good luck.”

  The rest of the day I had barely anything to do. Being an assassin wasn’t all that exciting. No one hung around me out of fear, so I spent my days alone. Sadly, Xavier was the only soul besides the king who had the guts to meet my eyes when he spoke.

  I sat in a tree, carving signs with my knife along the wooden branches. The image of that man was still stuck in my head. His pleading face. The way I’d lied to him. I ripped out a leaf and tore it to shreds, watching the pieces flutter to the ground. The queen always told me that trees were alive and that they had feelings. But if I didn’t understand human emotions, why would I ever care about the opinions of a tree?

  My family left me on the streets when I was six. They weren’t related to me by blood, which was probably why they treated me so horribly.

  For one year I survived alone, foraging on the streets for food and living in makeshift shelters because they had never wanted a daughter. I had only ever been a liability, a burden. Then, the king and queen found me. Queen Celeste had told me that King Sadim had seen something in me, so he took me back with them. And that’s when I started my training.