The Mistake: Killing The King: Book 1 Read online

  By now the second guard was back on his feet and both came toward her.

  She aimed for the hole between them, dropping to the ground just as their blades swung for her neck. Two of the weapons clanged together, but the guards turned in a flash as if nothing had happened. How could she possibly take both down?

  There had to be some way, but she wondered if she could even take one down, let alone two. She glanced over her shoulder, hoping to come up with a plan. She needed to get behind the guards long enough to inflict some damage, but it would have to be sudden.

  She looked back at the men. Small smiles played at their lips. They were enjoying this. Well fine, that meant they would be up for a good chase.

  Natasha broke into a run, aiming for a large oak to her left. The clanking of the guards’ armor assured her that they were right behind, totally caught up in the action. That’s a problem with being a killer, you tend to get sucked it. You miss the details, fully trained assassins with the same blind spot she combated in Jarrod.

  The tree loomed before her and she doubled her speed, climbing up the trunk and flipping her body over to land just behind the guards. She jabbed the sax knife into the sword master’s side and pulled it down, the edges biting into his chain mail.

  He roared in pain and jerked away, ripping the blade from her hands. She fell to the ground and hit her head on a stone but managed to turn over just in time to avoid being stabbed through the chest by the second fighter. The man swung for her throat, but she swung her legs around and knocked his feet out from under him.

  He crashed to the ground, his blades dropping beside him.

  She pounced on top of him, clamping a hand over his nose and mouth while desperately searching through her belt for another blade. The man smacked her and dug at her hand but she refused to let him win. If she couldn’t find a weapon, she would suffocate him. She focused her weight onto her hand, ensuring that he couldn’t pull it free.

  But as she focused on the one guard, the other had ample time to recover. She didn’t realize the mistake until his shadow passed over her. A victim of her own form of tunnel vision.

  His blade cut through the air and ripped into her side, cutting deeper until it hit her rib cage. She couldn’t keep a hold on the man’s nose and fell to the side, writhing in pain. It was all over, she would die tonight just because she refused to leave her idiot apprentice behind.

  The man swung again, his blood-stained sword glistening in the firelight. Natasha closed her eyes, too afraid to see the killing blow, when something whizzed through the air.

  She heard a solid thwack and opened her eyes. One of her diamond blades protruded from the man’s temple. His eyes were glassed over, dead even before he hit the ground.

  Natasha glanced toward the trees and caught sight of Jarrod. He looked pale and weak, but the blade could only have come from him. He saved her life.

  But the second guard was up by now, his own blades back in his hand. Natasha wouldn’t be able to perform any spectacular feats like the flip again, so she grabbed the dead guard’s blades and faced her attacker. Just because she didn’t carry swords, didn’t mean she couldn’t use them.

  They circled each other, each one hesitant to make the first attack. She had bested the guard once and she could barely move without flinching. It would be a fight for survival and only one would walk away, but neither could be sure that they would emerge the victor.

  “Ladies first,” Natasha said, her breathing heavy but even.

  The man sneered but remained in a defensive stance. If only Jarrod had another blade, maybe he could take out this guard too. But now the second guard was aware of his presence and would be ready for an attack like that, besides Jarrod looked ready to hurl when she had spotted him last.

  Neither would leave this fight, the guard wouldn’t allow his target to escape, and she couldn’t allow him to leave now that he’d seen her face, but she still hoped that something else would solve this issue. Her side ached and the loss of blood made her head woozy.

  She flicked the blades through the air with ease, wavering slightly whenever the cut in her side shot out a stab of pain. The man countered her blows, but he refused to attack in return. Trying to tire her out. She wouldn’t let it get that far.

  Aiming for his hands, she forced his focus to shift. He would expect another hand attack, but this time she went for the head. He responded to slowly, his blade missing hers by a fraction of a second. The sword sliced through his neck and the fight was over.

  The man’s head rolled along the ground for a couple of feet, testing Natasha’s upchuck reflex, and landed next to a tree root, which promptly crushed it into the ground. Unfortunately, the decapitated body remained, so Natasha did her best to avoid looking at it as she dug through the carriage, trying to find bandages.

  She found several strips of cloth and pulled off her shirt to wrap them around her torso.

  A tree branch snapped.

  Natasha looked toward Jarrod, wondering if his dilapidated state had impaired his silent movement, but he hadn’t moved and was looking toward the other side of the road. She trained her focus on the trees as well. It could just be an animal but you could never be too sure. A flash of blue zipped by. Human, definitely human.

  She pulled her shirt back on and chased after. The figure raced on, his breath seeming to reverberate through the trees. Natasha did her best to keep up, but she was tired and injured. The man pulled ahead and disappeared into the trees.

  She followed his foot prints for a while longer, but she knew she would never catch up, at least not before he reached a populated area.

  With any luck the man hadn’t seen her face, but who knew how long he had been hiding in the trees. He could’ve been there the whole time, she hadn’t even considered the possibility of a spy before the mission. And if he had been there the entire time, he knew everything and it would only be a matter of time before posters of her face were plastered on every wall in the country. Years of hard work and constant vigilance down the drain all because she couldn’t keep up with one lousy human.

  She leaned against a tree and caught her breath. She couldn’t stay in the forest, hundreds if not thousands of mercenaries would be swarming the area within a few hours and in her present state she couldn’t fight them off. Maldov was the only one who could offer her protection now, assuming he kept her alive. But at least if Maldov killed her it would be quick and no one would be eating her carcass afterward. Either way, the castle was her best bet.

  Maldov lackeys waited for her when she emerged from the tree line, their angry face another unpleasant sight after such a dismal night.

  “Hello boys,” she said, “been standing here long?”

  “Maldov’s waiting for you,” said one of the guards, “says he wants to see you the minute you came back to town.”

  “Well then you’re a little late aren’t you?”

  She let the guards grab her arms and shuffled along as they half carried her to the castle. She winced as they jostled her body, aggravating the cut in her side, but she didn’t bother complaining. Days weren’t supposed to be this draining, at this point all she wanted to do was sleep. Besides, she could get back at the guards later if she really wanted.

  Castle guards weren’t the brightest bunch, chosen for their brawn over their brains. Every now and then she found a guard who could carry an intelligent conversation but they were the most likely to be killed off. The smart ones usually felt the need to voice opinions and Maldov didn’t take kindly to questioning. If she weren’t his best option when it came to challenging situations, she would have lost her head years ago.

  “I don’t suppose you boys have any medspray on you?” she asked, “I got into a bit of a fight in the woods.”

  “We heard,” said another guard, “it’s all over the kingdom. Got the villagers all worked up too. You’re infamous.”

  “Oh, infamous. Kind of a big word for you don’t you think?”

  They shou
ld just give her the medspray and shut up but, since they refused, she assumed that Maldov informed them to hold off until he assessed the situation. Wanted to make her suffer for messing up no doubt.

  That was fine, she could manage the pain for a little while longer, it was more of an inconvenience than anything. She had already done her part.

  The only thing left to do was to deal with Maldov and that would be fairly straight forward. Their relationship largely entailed arguments and yelling where he would make empty threats until his energy was spent. Natasha dealt with it because he provided her with the best option for protection and he didn’t kill her because she continued to be a valuable asset, despite the night’s events.

  Her exhaustion might help this time, she would be too tired to get angry over any insults that came her way and she would be less likely to say something stupid that would land her with several more days in prison or a lashing. No, she would probably still get the lashing, she had botched an assassination job.

  As they drew close to the throne room, she was surprised to hear raised voices. Who would Maldov be fighting with? A smack echoed through the hall, followed by a whimper, but the guards didn’t seem to care.

  They pounded on the large double doors and waited for Maldov to usher them inside. When he did, they marched inside and threw her at Maldov’s feet. She cringed as pain shot through her side, but she pulled herself up to face the king directly.

  “Ah, Natasha,” Maldov said, “I was just discussing you with my son.”

  She glanced over at Utar, the royal prince, and saw a large welt on his cheek. Maldov must have stuck hard to cause such immediate swelling.

  “And you’ve decided to let this whole thing go?” she asked.

  Maldov scowled and slapped her across the face too, sending her sprawling to the ground once more.

  “Not quite,” he said.

  He reached down, grabbed her by the hair, and leaned his head down so they were eye to eye.

  “Do you mind telling me,” he asked, his voice low and rough, “what the hell went wrong?”

  He growled and slapped her again, the back of his hand biting into her cheek. He struck with so much force that she flipped over before hitting the ground. The impact ripped her wound further open and tears formed in her eyes. That’s the last thing she needs, to cry in front of the king. She touched the growing bumps on her cheeks.

  “I sent Jarrod in before he was ready,” she said, “that’s all. I thought he could handle it. I should’ve been better prepared.”

  “Better prepared!” Maldov yelled, “you were exposed. I’ve got noble families from every kingdom calling for my head. Better prepared. You should have died out there, died to protect my honor, but instead you come back, begging for my forgiveness after letting one of my enemies escape. Shame on you, how could I ever think that a sniveling child like you could actually get the job done?”

  “I was stabbed,” she said, anger bringing even more heat to her cheeks, “and they had a spy hidden away in the shadows. I couldn’t keep up, it’s not my fault.”

  “Oh, yes, blame your wounds for your cowardice. I knew something like this would happen, you get one little scrape and you run crying back to mommy. No man would ever let and enemy escape, but I should have known better with a girl like you.”

  Natasha wanted to smack him, to knock that smug expression off his quivering, fat face. How dare he say such a thing? She had spent years doing everything he wanted and she had more than proven her value. No man could come close to her talent and skill.

  “I suppose it was you then,” she said, “you told them about the attack just to see how I would handle it.”

  Maldov looked surprised for a moment before his expression shifted back to one of anger.

  “I did no such thing,” he said, “but it you knew it was a trap, you should’ve known how to handle it. But, obviously, you aren’t bright enough to catch the warning signs or check your ambush sites for intruders. You’re despicable, a leech sucking away at me like the ungrateful harpy that you are.”

  “I tried to pull back,” Natasha said, “but that idiot boy you forced me to train wouldn’t listen. He jumped onto the carriage without a second thought and barged into the fight. If it hadn’t been for him, those assassins would be stuck in the forest somewhere, wondering where they went wrong.”

  She regretted the words right after they came out. She wanted to protect Jarrod from Maldov’s wrath but those words did the exact opposite. Jarrod looked so weak after the fight, he needed shielding, but she had lost her temper. Who knew what Maldov might do now.

  His mood certainly seemed to have shifted, and he gazed at her with contempt.

  “You should have trained him better,” he said.

  Then he gestured for the guards to take her.

  “No,” she shouted, “I… it was me. I’m the one who let that man get away. Jarrod didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Maldov ignored her and returned to his throne.

  “Please,” she said, “punish me. It’s my fault.”

  But Maldov’s mind was already made up.

  “The boy dies at dawn, but don’t worry Natasha,” he said, “I’ll make sure you get a good seat.”

  Natasha’s heart sank. A stone seemed to drop from her chest into her stomach and her mouth dried up. Jarrod would die tomorrow all because she couldn’t control her tongue. The urge to cry welled in her chest but the shock held the flood at bay. She wanted to scream and yell, to punch and kick her way free, but the sadness stilled her body. What had she done?

  The guards dragged her down the steps to he dungeon and threw her in a cell. She barely noticed as they locked the door. So many terrible things happened in her life, so many lost friends and family members, but this was the first one she had been responsible for killing.

  Someone sniffled in the corner.

  She shook free of her thoughts long enough to notice Jarrod’s huddled form in the corner.

  “Oh, Jarrod,” she said, moving to his side, “I’m so sorry.”

  She wanted to reach out to him but she knew that if she did she wouldn’t be able to let him go. No attachments, that’s what it meant to be an assassin. No caring and no friends. Jarrod was the closest thing she had to family now and he would be gone tomorrow. She couldn’t afford to care anymore than she already did.

  “Sorry for what?” Jarrod asked, “it’s not your fault.”

  “Of course it is,” she said, “if I had just-“

  He grabbed her hand, cutting off her sentence.

  “You tried to stop me,” he said, “you told me that I wasn’t ready and I did it anyway.”

  What was he talking about? The killing? What did that matter now?

  “I thought I was,” he continued, “you’ve done it so many times, it seemed to easy, but when I saw that woman’s eyes I just…”

  Tears rolled down his cheeks and Natasha hugged him, unable to stop herself this time. He clung to her too, his hands shaking.

  She should tell him about Maldov’s orders. It would be cruel not to, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. He had already been through so much for one night, he didn’t need anymore. So she held him tighter instead, forcing herself to handle the fear on her own.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he said, his arms clutching the back of her shirt.

  “I’m here,” she whispered, smoothing his hair, “it’s okay. You don’t have to do anything.”

  She kissed his forehead. The gesture seemed to startle him because he looked up. His eyes met hers and his features softened. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

  “I never realized,” he said, “how strong you are. I just thought it was easy, but the kind of pain you face every day, it’s stifling. But, you’ve always had my back. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

  She looked away. He was right. He wouldn’t be here if she could just keep her mouth shut. He wouldn’t be here if she had just refused to ta
ke on a recruit like she should have. He was such a sweet and hopeful person, he didn’t deserve this fate, but he had lived in her shadow for too long and the darkness always catches up.

  Jarrod caressed her cheek and she found herself looking into his eyes once more. A tear finally escaped and rolled down her cheek. He wiped it away with his finger and bent forward. His lips pressed against hers and she melted into his touch.

  She knew how to do this. She knew how to comfort a man, but something was different about this time. She drew him in, letting her mind go blank. She needed him too.

  Their kisses increased in pressure and her breath sped up as his hands slipped under her shirt. She didn’t want to fight anymore, she didn’t want to kill. She just wanted to be close to him, to let the world slip away.

  He pressed her against the floor and their bodies moved as one and she let out a gasp. More, she just wanted more, and Jarrod obliged, his lips working their way down her neck.

  She allowed the sensations to overpower her mind and wrapped in his arms, she let the world drift away.

  -

  Sunlight streamed through the prison window when she woke up. Jarrod’s arm still wrapped around her waist and she gentle extricated herself and slipped her clothes back on. She had never experienced anything like last night, the desperate need for someone else, but today she found herself feeling guilty and happy all at the same time.

  She would remember that night forever but she couldn’t let herself be completely happy because Jarrod didn’t know the truth.

  He rolled over and pulled himself toward her, kissing the small of her back. Butterflies fluttered in her chest and she blushed, a small smile growing on her lips.

  “Good morning,” Jarrod said.

  She turned to look at him and her smile widened.

  “Good morning,” she said, with a giggle.

  She didn’t remember ever giggling before, but she enjoyed the sensation. It made her feel light, like nothing could really be so bad now that Jarrod sat beside her. But she remembered her deceit and turned away, not able to look into his eyes.

  He pulled back her hair and kissed her neck.