Chapter One
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Lilith Da Via had counted her kills since her very first job. 424…a number that either repulsed or impressed, depending on which dirty barfly you drag out of the darkest parts of the capitol to ask. The most popular answer being, “We don’t talk about her, she’s trouble” And, they’re right, she was trouble.
Lilith watched her mark from the tiled roofs of a common home, it’s brick walls withered and chipped. The stench of shit and piss wafted up from huddled vagrants in a nearby alley, making her wrinkle her nose in disgust. She clenched her teeth and pulled her cloak tighter around her as a cold wind persisted. It was a winter night, and the stars hung in the sky like suspended snowflakes, oblivious to the people below them.
It had been only a day since her last job, she had been forced to kill a witness, the wife of her target. Right before her death, the woman spoke to Lilith, as kneeled before her, “He was a good man, my husband, I didn’t think anyone hated him, let alone want him dead,” she spoke without the slightest tremor of fear even with the assassin looking down at her, grasping the weapon that murdered her husband. Her expression rage and beneath that, pity. “Why do you do this? Are you not sorry for the lives you have taken?” She asked with venom, “What you do is an act of evil, it is a sin!” she shouted.
“I am sorry” Lilith replied, “but it is survival.” She blinked once before driving the sword through the woman’s heart. Muttering, “Four hundred twenty-four.” Into the cold, winter air. Her words still lingered in Lilith’s thoughts, like an itch that could not be scratched.
Her mark was a drunken mess, so much so that she was surprised his hood was still shadowing his face. He stumbled and tripped over what seemed to be every crack on the road and he smelled strongly of cheap rum, though the faint scent of a woman's perfume lingered on him.
She dropped from the roof behind the man, the thump of her boots and swish of her cloak were the only noises she made on her descent, and he was too intoxicated to notice, Interesting, she thought with a crease in her brow.
As Lilith readjusted her hood over her delicately pointed ears, the man bumped into a barrel, and veered to the right, his boots scraping the pavement as he took to an unknown alley. Lilith sensed the ambush a moment before it came, he lost his drunken stumble before spinning on his heels and folding his arms, his hood shadowing a barely visible smirk.
She squinted at him, stopped a couple yards away and cocked her head to the side, expressing curiosity, void of fear. She sniffed, attempting to decipher where he came from. His scent had undertones of oiled leather and iron, he must be used to combat, She thought. Now mildly interested, Lilith sniffed again, he stunk of alcohol and perfume still, though now she noticed it was strongest in concentrated spots as if dabbed or sprayed on, she sighed. Why had she not noticed?
As she silently reprimanded herself, the man shifted slightly. Lilith caught a glimpse of a sword underneath his cloak with a handle decorated with a familiar tree. Only two people were permitted a blade with such a sigil. That indicated three things: First, he was part of the royal guard. Second, he was the captain of it. And finally, his name was Noah Claydon.
As she expected, the pounding of many heels was soon within earshot as the man’s reinforcements cut off the two exits of the ally.
Lilith chuckled. Did they really think that she couldn’t hop a roof, or better yet, cut them all down in seconds, like stocks of wheat? They would barely be an obstacle for her.
She pulled her hood down, then flicked a fiery red and copper braid off her shoulder before stretching her hands above her head, and yawning causally.
She sighed again, “Now you, Claydon,” she said, flashing a grin that to them probably looked more like a bearing of sharp canines.
With a chuckle, Noah Claydon removed his hood and met her grin with his own human version. “Captain Claydon to you, Da Via.” He replied. “You’re sloppy, I expected trapping you to be harder.” He was handsome, she noticed, with a cleanly shaved face and short dull black hair, but the feature that stuck out the most was his strikingly green irises. Lilith didn’t think Emerald was the color to describe as, no, there was no one color that could do so. She thought of spring green leaves, pine needles, and mint tea. To her dismay, she liked the color of his eyes.
Lilith raised an eyebrow, looking first behind her, then over the shoulder of the captain, noting the number of men brandishing swords defensively. She shook her head, “Captain, I am not trapped.” She stated, meeting his green eyes again “But, let us say I was trapped, would there be a reason?”
The smirk slipped off his face and his hand slid under his cloak, there was no doubt it was now resting on the hilt of his sword. “The Crown Prince is charging you with treason.” He said, all humor gone from his voice.
Lilith’s demeanor, in contrast, remained casual. “Really?” She said voice laced with false surprise. “And what treason have I committed?” She rested a hand on her hip, exuding confidence.
Claydon opened his mouth to answer, but reluctantly closed it as a different voice spoke. Heels thumped against the pavement as the woman approached, “The assassination of her Majesty the Empress Amaryllis Galentia and her Prince Consort Henry F. Galentia,” She answered for the captain.
“And you are?” Lilith inquired, hiding her bewilderment at the accusation as the woman came to a stop only feet away from her person. Brown hide boots stood a shoulders width apart, in a confident balanced stance that Lilith would have admired if it weren’t for the immediate dislike she held for the woman who portrayed it.
“General Viola Osmund.” The General spoke proudly pushing her shoulders back and straightened her spine ever-so-slightly. She was a bit shorter than Lilith yet still relatively tall for a woman. Osmund was all lean muscle and only a hint of feminine curves could be seen through her thick leather outfit. Silver hair was twisted in a knot on the top of her head that didn’t seem to be that color because of old age rather unusual family history. She looked quite young for a general, actually, maybe only a few years Lilith’s senior.
“Ah, the Wrathful One,” Lilith smiled as she made the connection, “They say you cut down a whole village to find one Kinara man. Are such rumors true?”
The general stepped closer so that Lilith could feel the woman’s breath, warm on her face, “You have no right to question my morality.”
A satisfied grin ghosted her lips as Lilith successfully got the reaction she was hoping for, “I was merely asking,” she laughed.
A snarl tore from Osmund’s throat and at that point, Lilith knew that the woman was done with their conversation. Lilith’s heightened senses picked up the shifting of air before she actually saw the general move; she caught her attacker's fist as it arced for her jaw, twisting it until she heard a crack come from the woman’s arm. A gasp pushed from Osmund’s lips as her knees hit the ground, and she sat there clutching her broken limb. Lilith knew what the next words that came from Osmund’s mouth would be, and she asked silent forgiveness from the Mother for what she would have to do after the words were spoken.
The general audibly gritted her teeth in pain, and said, “The Prince wants her alive.”
Only a few men moved at first, rushing for Lilith with such determination that made her feel the smallest drop of remorse after sinking her blades into their guts and throwing carefully aimed knives in their throats. “Four hundred twenty-five, four hundred twenty-six, four hundred twenty-seven.” She muttered between each sickening sound of steel being buried in flesh and the gurgle of blood filling a throat with its metallic taste, blocking airways. All stood still for the slowest of seconds as the men watched their comrades fall to the ground. And some ran, though not many.
After a moment of hesitation one man ran forward his sword swung for her and she swiftly stepped to the side, but the tip of his well-sharpened blade cut a small wound onto her cheek almost unnoticeable in pain. As his body began to stumble forward from the momentum of his missed strike, Lilith tore his illy secured helmet from his head and twisted his dark brown hair in her fist. In a moment she had thrown the helmet to the ground with a clatter and pressed a small knife to his throat. The assassin felt his prominent Adam’s apple bob under the pressure of her weapon and she smelled the very small amount of blood that slid down the man’s neck.
“So, how about you let me go. Or I will slit this young man’s throat.” Lilith laughed and pressed her blade harder into the man’s neck, hearing a small unmasculine squeak come from him.
The General stared for a moment, possibly contemplating what kind of hit her already less-than-kind reputation could take. The woman’s jaw feathered, but she grunted an order at the soldiers. The soldiers parted for Lilith.
She yanked her hostage up by the hair and snarled darkly in his ear, “It’s strange they value your life, boy…” Lilith tilted his head back a little more. “Don’t try anything.” The soldier let out another high squeak in what she was sure was confirmation, so Lilith shoved him with her as she made way through the parted path.
As she passed the Captain and General she said as simply as she could, “It wasn’t me, look elsewhere. Your Crown Prince is mistaken.” Lilith moved out of the alley as fasts she was able with the soldier weighing down her speed. As she turned and disappeared around the corner she heard Osmund growl about her particular wording, which had been no mistake on Lilith’s part. The Crown Prince of Githal was, to put in her own words, a senseless creep. She’d met the useless royal once when her guild upperclassmen were invited to the palace. His beady lingered quite too long on her breasts and thighs. It had taken stern orders from the Guild master and a copious amount of self-control not to stab said eyes with a dinner fork or break a couple of his long fingers.
Lilith had rather liked his mother, though. Amaryllis had been regal and maintained a slightly cold demeanor, but Lilith noted the care she held for her staff. The Empress had held a good head on her shoulders. It really was a shame she had such a son.
After a half-hour of twisting through random roads and back alleys, Lilith cracked her hostage's head against the nearest wall and half-hoped he was alive as she snuck onto a nearby roof. Needless killing wasn't her thing.
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The guild house was a large property. A village of killers. The rooms in the main building were reserved for the Guild Master’s favorites, the assassins he let pick their own jobs until a big one came along. No one had much of a choice if the man wanted you on a specific job. The barracks were large one-room buildings filled with bunks, pretty much everyone other than the upper-class assassins were put in there for communal living.
Lilith trotted up the steps of the main building and slipped silently through the front door. The man who she liked to call Mailbox met her in the foyer with a stack of request forms in his hands. He greeted Lilith with a smile and extended her the papers, she sighed. “Afternoon, Mailbox. I see I’m quite popular on Fridays…” Lilith grabbed the stack forms and flipped through them, there were six. She would look through them later, but not now. She was far too exhausted.
“It would seem so, miss. Also, the Master wants to see you.” He replied.
Lilith suddenly felt a violent urge to be sick, and she lifted a hand to her now pounding skull. “Tell him I’m ill,” She grunted and then sped for her rooms. The trip upstairs was a blur. She couldn't even recall making it through her chamber’s door.
She only barely made it to the lavatory before she heaved into the clean toilet basin. Red acid came from her throat in a burning trail and landed in the toilet with a sickening splash.
Lilith washed her face in the sink bowl and then turned her eyes to the mirror above it. The first thing Lilith saw was her puffy cheek, a thin scratch on her cheekbone in the center of it.
Shit.
Raising her fingers to the tender flesh of her cheekbone, Lilith’s mind began to race. She attempted to sift through the many memorized poisons in her head but to no avail. Her mind was too sluggish to think of any matches. Dunking her head into the sink basin, Lilith tried to cool off her ever heating head.
It took seconds for Lilith’s knees to fail her, so she fell in a crash. Her energy depleted.
“Miss?” Mailbox appeared in her darkening vision, his concerned eyes turned understanding. More footsteps echoed in her ears, then everything turned to oblivion.
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Lilith slipped back into consciousness but saw only darkness. There were voices that spoke tersely and hands on her forehead that were invitingly familiar.
A voice was whispering to her. Mailbox. His tone was hushed as if not to be heard, he said things about keeping her mouth shut. Was he threatening her? No. Something solid and circular slipped into her mouth that tasted of metal. He wanted to put it under her tongue. With a racing heart and a sluggish tongue, Lilith did so with great effort. It was seconds later that Lilith slipped unconscious.
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Lilith Da Via awoke to the poke of something small and wet against her arm, her bare arm. She swung her elbow against whatever was touching her. She heard a small squeak, and the brush of something furry as she no doubt sent a small rodent running. Lilith cracked her eyes open and looked about her surroundings. There was an unbearable heat, Lilith could feel beads of sweat rolling down from her hairline and her body was slick with it. She was in a small gray stone room, its walls cracked from age, moss and insects crawled across the ceiling. A dim light shone from a torch that was well away. All her belongings were gone from her person in replacement of her strong leather armor, she wore ragged beige trousers and top. They were stained with Gods know what, Lilith pinched her shirt and lifted it to her nose it smelled of piss, puke, and overall disgusting human stink. She looked away from the shirt the door was made of iron bars, rusty as they were it meant she could talk to someone on the outside of her cell without them simply closing a hole in the door. She groaned as it all began to really settle in.
She was in the royal prison. They had the nerve to poison her. And she was believed to be behind the assassination of the Empress and her consort.
Then remembered the quite noticeable object wedged under her tongue. Lilith pulled it out with her thumb and index finger and looked down at the familiar and comforting sight. The item that was now resting in her palm, was a ring. The stone set atop the ring was a dull green. Unmatching to the expensive gold of the band.
She grinned. This dull green stone was without a doubt her most valuable object, and it was called an affinity stone. Affinity stones allow the Kinara people to access their widely feared high magic. Each high magic power branches from an affinity to one of the four elements. Lilith’s earth high magic was the most broad of the affinity any had ever encountered. She had access to everything that was connected to the earth's affinity. Earthquakes, stone magic, plant control… anything that was earth-related Lilith could control and bend to her will.
Quickly slipping the ring onto her middle finger, Lilith drew at any magic that was around. She felt the metallic taste of it as it surged through in a rush, the dull green stone now a glowing gem of power. Lilith felt powerful for a euphoric few seconds before the magic slipped through her fingers like sand.
No. No, no, no. no.
Her heart nearly stopped as everything turned quiet, her precious stone returning to its dormant state. Lilith's breath shook as she found herself no longer to draw on the well magic that had always been there for her.
Mind racing, Lilith looked to the cell door.
Lilith’s head pounded and every noise made her ears protest with sharp pain. Yet she gathered the strength and hauled her body to the metal bars. She heard the shuffle of boots.
“Hey! Is anyone there?” Lilith asked with a feigned voice of innocence that was acid on her tongue. Hushed voices sounded not far from her as guards discussed whether to answer her call. In what seemed like forever before a man appeared by Lilith’s door only a few feet away from her. The assassin gripped a bar in each hand ignoring the flakes of rust that pressed into her palms and pressed her face as close as she could, and smiled. She needed out.
The guard smiled right back, his two front teeth were rotted and his breath had an unbearable stench that wafted through her senses. “Yes, girly? What ya hollering for,” The guard said it would have sounded like a question had he not been so busy looking her up and down, his unkind eyes wandering. His unkempt, messy beard seemed to hold bits of his dinner and his fingernails were encrusted with filth. Yellow hair was combed over in greasy strings, it was an effort to not look like she’d rather be swimming in a sewer than be near him. Is basic hygiene that hard? Being a guard should pay enough for it, you would think.
“There any way I could get outta here, for the right price?” Lilith asked, employing a street accent, she bit her lip and grinned. She had no intention of doing anything with this disgusting man, she just needed him to open the door. The guard looked down at his ring of keys hanging loosely from a belt of brown leather, but a voice cut through the air filled with a laugh.
“Don’t even think about it, Wilkens.” The voice belonged to a young man who showed up at the side of the guard, his golden hair cropped short. “Even if she’s a bit pretty, she stinks like a vagrant.” He wrinkled his nose and eyed Lilith, though not in the way his partner had. She eyed him right back.
“What, you don’t like getting in little trouble?” She asked and he scowled in response, she looked back to the other, “hmm?” The young blonde grabbed the other’s arm and shoved him away from sight, with strange confidence that said he wouldn’t be hassled about the push later. He looked at her again and she scowled, spitting at his feet.
He ignored Lilith’s vulgar act and leaned close to her cell, “I know what you’re trying to do, but I'm suggesting to you to be smart and not make those kinds of deals even if you’re intending not to fulfill them.” he whispered harshly, then he turned away stalking off to his post.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
She screamed in anger, throwing a fist into the stone wall on her left, and she did it again, and again. She hit the wall until her knuckles bled and prisoners around began to shout and clammer in their own cells. She hit the wall until She hit the wall until she felt she had worked out a fraction of her anger and had decided she’d use the rest later when she saw the general again.
Lilith fell to the slab of thin scratchy hay in the corner, sat against the wall and listened to mutters of other prisoners, the scuffling of small animal paws and the slow drip of a leak somewhere nearby. Time passed, maybe minutes, hours, days. She knew she should be planning an escape, she couldn’t rely on the Guild Master to save her this time. But she just sat there.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The leak was insistent, Lilith wondered if it was meaningful torture set up by her captors. She curled down onto the pallet, hay pressing into her cheek and sticking through her tunic. Her mind drifted too far off memories, though her eyes remained open staring at nothing but the nearest wall.
The Guild master circled Lilith at the young age of twelve like a vulture watching its prey, she had been plucked from the streets after she had killed one of his Fea Guild members with a broken bottle and a knife she had stolen from a traveler that had been passing through a week ago. Lilith had ideas as to why someone would sign a contract to her head but the only thing she had been interested in thinking about had been not dying.
Lilith’s green eyes searched her surroundings for exits other than the obvious door to her right, knowing that she had no chance of getting past the hulking guards on the other side. The room looked like a normal blueblood office other than the lethal weapons hanging from mantles and locked in display cases. Part of her yearned to touch them.
A polished redwood desk stood mid-torso in front of her, it’s surface shining from the sunlight that poured from the large window behind it. Heavy blood-red curtains hung tied back from the window with glistening silver threaded rope, and an extravagant chandelier hung from the ceiling, white candles burning brighter than they ought to be.
She imagined fighting her way out with the cold hilt of a knife pressed into her palm, past guards, guild members, and bustling servants. Lilith quickly stamped down these thoughts. She knew there was no way she could even stand a chance against the man before her, the killing of the contracted assassin was a one-time instance and she knew it.
After minutes of silence, the guild master settled in the chair behind his desk and leaned back slightly before he spoke, his voice deep and gravely. “What’s your name?”
Lilith raised an eyebrow, there was no doubt that he already knew, but she answered anyway, “Lilith.”
“What is your surname, girl.”
“I don’t have one.” She replied simply, she had never needed one. You can’t have a last name when you don't have any parents to pass one down to you.
A slow smile crept onto the man’s face making a cold feeling slithered up her spine like a phantom hand of ice. “Think it up, Lilith.”
Keeping her gaze fixed on him, even though she felt the itching need to run far away from the strange man, she thought of it. The Guild Master lounged in his chair with patience as the minutes passed. He raised an eyebrow as Lilith opened her mouth to spout some surname she’d heard around the village when she remembered the last thing she had of her unknown parents, a small copper locket the size of a copper coin. On the back the acronym D. A. V. I. A. etched in cursive. She didn’t stop to think as the words sprang from her mouth.
“Da Via.”
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Lilith’s trance was broken by the exchange of words outside her small confined room. The memory drifted away on a fantom wind as she looked to the cell door and slowly got up the fuzziness was gone from her mind, the throbbing in her head had reduced to a dull ache. She managed to make her bare feet silent as she got close to the iron bars.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
“Food for the prisoner in cell eighty-three.” A female voice said clearly, though it held a practiced submissive tone. She sounded young, full of hope. The girl must not have been working as a servant for very long.
“You know, you’re very pretty for a servant,” Wilkens said, Lilith could almost see his eyes roving the poor girl’s body. She bristled at the thought of the disgusting man touching her, and she didn’t exactly know why she was getting worked up over someone who she didn’t know.
“Food for the prisoner in cell eighty-three, officer.” She repeated, Lilith heard the soft scrape of her shoes as the servant moved for her cell. She backed away from the door and waited. The girl appeared in a few moments, holding a metal tray with two hands. A piece of bread that looked damp was pressed into some sort of bean mush, and foul looking water filled up half of a small, beaten cup.
Lilith looked up at the servant girl and was surprised to find violet eyes meeting hers, flecked with silver and black. Wisps of ink-black hair suggested there was more to be found under her white cap, and a royal blue apron was stark above her pristinely white work dress, her temples glossy with sweat. Her chestnut brown skin was smooth and unmarred but the thin scar that decorated her throat. And Lilith had to keep back a noise of surprise as she saw the pointed ears that were delicate, yet from personal experience, Lilith knew they could hear every noise, every rustle of clothing, every breath that was taken in the area. She was Fea.
She bent down carefully avoiding the filth that stuck to the floor to slip the tray under Lilith’s cell door in a custom slit. The assassin grinned, making sure to make her canines visible. “Ever wonder if there’s a special kitchen just for prisoners, I mean where do they find this stuff.” She remarked, she wanted to make the sullen faced girl laugh. Or smile. She wasn't sure.
Sitting down on the floor, she pulled the tray closer and poked the damp bread with one finger. The girl had straightened, but still looked at Lilith as if a complicated puzzle was before her.
Raising a brow in question to the girl’s gaze, Lilith pushed the tray away from her person and carefully watched the servant, a soft grin still ever-present.
“Did you do it?” The girl asked, moving closer to the bars. There was a far off cackle from some unhinged criminal, which set off a clammer of shouts and laughs from others. The heat seemed to get to the minds of the prisoners faster than cold would, Lilith herself could already feel herself going stir crazy.
All attempted lightness dropped from her face and she looked into those violet eyes. “No, I didn’t,” She whispered, she saw the skepticism behind the girl's face, which was illuminated by torchlight. The servant stepped closer to the bars, her white skirt brushing against rust, keeping it clean forgotten.
“I don’t know why I’m even talking to you.” She said softly, her lips scarcely moving, “even if you are innocent, you certainly not of other crimes.” The guards only a few yards away were forgotten, and Lilith stood moving closer herself. The girl stood several inches shorter than herself so she peered down.
“I have that effect on people.” She replied with a laugh, she looked away snapping whatever strange effect the girl had. “What’s your name?” Lilith asked, picking up the cup of water she peered inside, the decidedly gross water looked like it could make her sick. She set it down again.
“Davina, Davina Avila.” The servant girl responded she’d grown nervous, her left knee bouncing. Lilith nodded and reached for the tray of food, shuffling to the corner of her cell she muttered her thanks for the meal and turned her back on Davina.
Sensing the girl taking a step away, back to where she came from, Lilith’s Fae ears picked up a few muttered words, “trust the crow.” Her brows furrowed, but she did not turn around as Davina left on silent feet.
When Lilith turned back to her cup, the water was clean.
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