The Red-Haired Assassin Read online

  Padiskan followed, his eyes assessing the starkness of his surroundings. He observed the bare wooden table by the wall, the lone chair next to it. In the corner sat a narrow wooden bed, unmade with its sheets untidy and one pillow lying crumpled at the head. A pile of folded clothes sat on top of an old wooden dresser next to a pile of shiny, sharpened daggers.

  He stepped further in, his head turning to ascertain the rest. There was a small room off to the right, a place for preparing food but he could see no ingredients with which to do so. A pitcher rested on the top of a low table with a mesh cloth keeping the flies out, not that there were any flies because there was no food to attract them. They would starve to death in here. The walls were naked of adornment, no dressings of familial value, no identity shown beyond the weapons she chose.

  “This is charming,” Padiskan muttered, his tone telling of another thought altogether. “It’s not what I expected.”

  Roz stood awkwardly in the middle of the bare room, her head low and her eyes on the stone floor. She held her arms close to her sides, displaying her discomfort at having the Prince of the land in her home. It wasn't much, but it was spotlessly clean. She didn't have to please anyone here, only herself and this is how she chose to live.

  “Do you have anything to drink?” Padiskan moved toward the only chair in the room before changing his mind and sitting in the middle of the messy bed which creaked under his substantial weight. Roz sighed inwardly, embarrassed by his presence in what was her private domain and terrified as to his purpose. He'd shown no previous interest in her life, and she knew by experience that this sudden curiosity couldn't be a good thing. She rushed to the kitchen area and poured a glazed cup of cool water from the pitcher before offering it to him.

  “What is it?”

  “Water but it’s fresh. I drew this morning,” she explained as her hand trembled a little, but he didn't notice as he stared into her bright blue eyes.

  “You have it,” he murmured. “I don’t drink water. Sit, let’s eat, these pastries smell delicious.”

  How she managed to swallow under his intense glare she didn't know as he kept up the small talk of insignificant things of court and the sycophantic folk who dwelled there. He was aware of their backbiting ways and mocked them with funny renditions of their suggestions as to how he should run this new Princedom. She laughed politely in appropriate places although it wasn’t humour ushering the sound.

  "Diamand often speaks of you.” Padiskan wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “He tells me I shouldn’t trust you and that you’ll betray me.”

  She nodded. She would expect that of the fat Marshall of the Prince’s army since he didn't have a good word to say about anyone. Diamand didn’t like to hear praise about anyone but himself.

  “Have you no response? Is he right to believe you’re not trustworthy?”

  "In my two years of serving you, Sire, Diamand has yet to say a pleasant word about anyone in my hearing, why would he say something nice about me?"

  Padiskan laughed loud; this woman was so forthright and honest. She was like a breath of fresh mountain air after the sweaty odors, bad breath, and farts of the court.

  “He’s quite adamant you’re dangerous and advises me that I should cast you from the palace. He offered to do the job personally." Padiskan watched her face for anger, but the smile was unexpected. "Don't you have some words of wisdom about him?"

  “Sire, my only concern is your safety. Baron Diamand is adequate at his job and to question that doubts your judgment in trusting him.” She sat back on the chair, crossing one leg over the other. Was that the reason he was here? Was he checking out one of Diamand's allegations? "Besides, no man's ego enjoys rejection," she added as a reason for the fat man's contentions to be voiced louder than before.

  Padiskan laughed again, Diamand’s reputation with the ladies had become a matter of fun at court. Everyone knew but no one spoke of it until his back turned, and although the rumors claimed his popularity with the ladies, Padiskan believed it was more to do with the power of his office than his prowess as a lover.

  “You don’t like the thought of sharing your bed with my Marshall?” He turned to glance at the narrow bed he sat on. It was ludicrous to think both could fit without it breaking beneath them.

  “I like my men to give me a little more...” she hesitated, trying to think of a word that wouldn’t insult the fat Diamand too much. “... room.”

  Padiskan chuckled again. Her candour was so enlivening. He should bottle and spray it in court every morning to freshen it.

  “It doesn’t look like you’ve invited any man to share your bed.” Padiskan sobered a little, remembering why he’d ventured here. As much as she amused him, Diamand had never led him wrong before. This woman, his favored protector seemed to have secrets to protect.

  “That’s my choice,” she muttered, showing the first sign of displeasure in the Prince’s hearing. She swallowed down her mouthful of food and instantly regretted her unusual display of emotion. She would be wise to keep calm in this man's presence.

  “Perhaps the right man has not yet made advances to you.” Padiskan leaned back against the wall, his right hand resting on the pillow where her head had been only a short while ago. “If I made advances, would you lie with me?”

  Chapter Five

  Roz nearly choked on the delicious piece of pastry in her mouth. How did she to answer without insulting this dangerous and unstable monarch yet not want him to take the suggestion any further? She no more wanted to sleep with this revolting man than she did the dethroned Malachi.

  No, that wasn’t right. She didn’t feel the same way about Padiskan as she did Malachi. She could barely stand the thought of comparing the two men. In truth, there could be no comparison.

  Padiskan was dishonest, mean and believed nothing and no one should come between him and his desires. Malachi was another story altogether with his handsome face and noble bearing, and although it was ridiculous, she knew who she would prefer to get to know better.

  But Malachi wouldn’t look twice in her direction. He was a Prince who needed his throne back, and although he didn’t know it yet, she would be the means to that aim, but first, she needed to save herself from the Usurper.

  “You’re the new Prince of this land. I am but a common soldier,” she muttered softly, her head bowed to conceal her real feelings.

  “That’s no answer, Roz. Would you welcome me to your bed?”

  "Any woman would surely appreciate attention from someone such as you, Sire.” She nodded, lifting her eyes to his face. She could see he believed her reticence due to his greatness and not the loathing she kept concealed.

  “Why is this all so bare? Do you prefer to live this way, or do I not pay you enough?” He waved his hand around at the blank stone walls and the lack of décor. A plain whitewash covered the walls, and the floor was naked of matting. The room was functional but not what one would call comfortable.

  “I prefer not to burden my life with possessions.”

  “You could live in the palace in a suite of rooms more comfortable than this hovel.”

  “Is that a royal command?" she asked, but her eyes lowered to the floor. It didn't do to confront such an unpredictable man.

  “Merely a suggestion.” He smiled, and the warmth of his words caused her head to rise.

  “I like this house.”

  "So be it." Padiskan stood, wiping the crumbs from his pastry onto her clean floor. She grimaced at the mess but pretended his foul manners were reasonable. "Is this the only room?" He nodded at the stone steps that led up to another floor. He started up them before she could answer.

  The upper floor seemed as bare as the lower except for the large window opening onto a balcony hanging over the street below. Padiskan leaned on the stone balustrade, enjoying a view of both ends of the street and the view of the palace walls before spotting the large group of men on their way to collect him. Diamand sat on his huge black stallion,
the only horse big enough to take his enormous weight.

  “You’ll be pleased to know my bodyguards are here to accompany me back to the Palace,” Padiskan called. She backed away, allowing him to step back through the doorway back into the room. “What’s that?”

  A single curtain of blue and red stripes covered an alcove set deep into the wall. She stepped forward at the same time, but he moved quicker as he pulled back the curtain to reveal the alcove's content.

  On a stone shelf, sat a small altar with two hand-carved statuettes, simple things a child might cherish. A glass bowl of pure water sat next to a jar of sandy soil, and a glass-beaded necklace took pride of place. Padiskan stared at the objects and then into the face of the woman. She met his gaze briefly before casting her eyes downward while she awaited the reprimand.

  “You know it’s both illegal and immoral to worship false idols?” Padiskan asked in a calculating voice. She nodded but didn't speak. The only idol she should worship was the Prince. He had declared it as law. Padiskan laughed loudly with a coarse gravely tone. "Is this your secret? Is this what you've been hiding?"

  She stared with wide eyes as though she’d lost all his facilities, her mouth too dry to speak. She didn't have many mementos of her home, but she kept them unsullied and protected for private moments behind this homespun curtaining.

  “Diamand was right about you. He said you had been keeping secrets.” He laughed louder now as voices resounded in the street below. Padiskan pulled the curtain closed. “Keep your silly secrets.” He passed his chubby fingers over her cheek before stepping down to greet his guard. She followed him down, noting the smug look written on Diamand's fleshy face.

  “Diamand, I came here because of your paranoid murmurings about this brave and dedicated member of my guard. I have personally searched her home to find nothing to indicate disloyalty of any description. I wish never to hear another word of discontent about her coming from your lips.” Padiskan took a breath while he waited for his words to sink into Diamand's scant brain. “Roz is to be permitted to enter and leave my palace without the need to be searched. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Sire. Of course, Sire.” Diamand bowed low, hiding his fury beneath a smile of pure obedience. He looked up just once as he followed the Royal out to catch Roz smiling, but his furious glare offered its own kind of warning. Diamand wasn’t known for his forgiving nature.

  Roz stood silent, watching the Prince and his entourage ride away before she released a soft breath of relief. It had gone better than she could ever have believed. Maybe, as her mother has always said, God had been watching out for her, but she didn't see the man hidden across the street, his deep brown eyes wrongly assessing the situation and promising revenge on this traitor.

  Chapter Six

  “What are we waiting for?” Gareff kept his voice low, as the situation warranted but his growly tone warned that he wasn't content doing the bidding of a man, not his Prince.

  “We’re waiting for Braedan,” Malachi muttered for the fifth time. He didn't know why they were here, but Braedan did, and until he arrived, all they could do was wait.

  Braedan had turned out to be one of the few who remained loyal to the old King, and even now, as he served the Usurper and his entourage with unwavering servitude no one would guess how much he hated Padiskan.

  But Braedan hadn’t been the only one to express support for Malachi. Although it had been necessary to keep their plans secret for fear of their lives, a small group had formed in the hope that Malachi would return. It had been easy to slip out this morning through the rarely used and hidden tunnels which led to the palace gates. The guards pretended not to see him as he strolled past them.

  After a while, he spotted Padiskan leave the little white-washed house. Had he really expected a woman that beautiful not to have taken a lover? His disappointment came because she had chosen Padiskan.

  The night seemed darker now that the moon hid behind the thick rain clouds, and the shadowy alley appeared to harbor all kinds of foul-smelling puddles and piles of fermenting rubbish thrown out of eye's sight by the town’s people. Malachi knew this was a certain way of inviting disease into town. Hadn't this country seen enough death without tempting pestilence into their homes?

  Gareff's hand on his arm brought his attention, but he was already alert and listening to the nearly silent steps of the newcomer heading toward them, shadowed in darkness, keeping to the edges of the alleyway and avoiding the fetid mess on the street. The careful way this traveler stepped displayed knowledge of these sparsely-used footways.

  Malachi crouched lower with only the top of his head visible above the wooden pallets, but his shock caused a gasp to escape as he caught sight of the stranger’s face as the moon broke free of its heavy shield. He stood quickly, a borrowed dagger held in hand and rushed at the figure. The blade pushing at the naked skin of the throat ensured silence and obedience to his command as much as the surprise of the attack.

  "Go fetch Braedan,” he hissed at his deposed general. “We’ve been compromised.” He waited only a moment to ensure Gareff had left before returning his attention to his captive. He pulled the hood from her hair and pushed his weight against her as his fingers searched out the hidden weapons. He pulled seven knives of assorted sizes and length from her clothing before throwing them onto the pile of rubbish behind him, out of her reach.

  “You still stink of him,” he snarled into her hair, which smelt of green apples and sunlight. “How many more ways will you betray your ancestors?”

  She didn't speak, didn't reply for there were no words he would believe, so she stood patiently awaiting the man he'd sent for.

  “The dagger is unnecessary.” Braedan’s amused tone announced his arrival as he took in the taut scenario.

  “She’s a traitor,” Malachi hissed low, his fury barely contained in his words.

  “On the contrary, she’s on our side.” Braedan stepped forward, one hand on the blade to lower it and the other to ease the woman away from the dangerous man. “This is no place to talk.”

  Braedan led the way through the deserted streets, his hand on the woman's arm as Malachi and his former general followed. The house seemed empty and the door locked behind them as Braedan drew the silent woman into a corner his body shielding hers.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  “Hardly,” she sneered, a hand reaching to touch the bloody mark where the dagger had broken her skin.

  “She’s a traitor,” Malachi spat. “I saw her this morning as Padiskan left her bed.”

  “You’ve been watching my house?” She pushed past Braedan; her eyes narrowed as her hand reached for a dagger that wasn’t there. Gareff turned, laying each of them on a bare wooden table, well out of her range.

  "Scared of what else I might uncover? Does sleeping with the enemy not count as treason in this country?" Malachi sneered, his harsh tone biting in the air.

  Roz turned her caustic eye to Braedan, but the man shook his head and stepped back as the woman turned her full fury onto the man who truly warranted it. Braedan moved towards a dresser, offered a glass of golden brandy to Gareff and left the two of them to it.

  “Why have you been watching my house?” She demanded to know. She took a deep breath as though realizing getting mad at him wouldn’t work. “You’re not very good at it because if you were, you’d know Padiskan joined me at the clearing where I practice.”

  “An assignation?”

  “An ambush.”

  “I never thought I'd see the day when an Assidian would turn traitor on her own country,” Malachi sneered, his head shaking in disgust. He felt relieved his father, the true King, hadn’t lived to witness this. His rage rose with every thought of this beautiful woman enjoying the touch of the bastard usurper’s hand on her skin. He could barely contain his jealous outrage.

  “What do you know of my people? You were too busy running to save your own skins to look behind,” Roz replied, her voice as cold as the No
rthern mountains in the deepest winter.

  “We didn't run,” Malachi snarled. “We ceded to stop the country’s blood pouring into the earth. We had little choice if the land was not to lose all its young men in battle. We had no other option.”

  “You turned tail and hid. How heroic did you feel?”

  “We didn't run.” Malachi turned away, his hand pushing his hair from his face as she repeated the thoughts in his head, but he'd be damned before she would know.

  “Did you look back? Did you bother to see the damage left behind in your wake? It would have been better to face the danger, take death than allow others to take it for you.”

  “Don’t talk about things you have no hope of understanding.” Malachi dismissed her words for they were too close to the accusing thoughts that ran through his dreams, but she didn’t know about the oath he’d been forced to offer to his father, the King. She couldn't know that he'd promised not to take up arms against the vile usurper, Padiskan's father. Too much blood had been spilled, and King Michael had demanded Malachi's vow of honor that he would risk no more lives over the rulership of this land. “What of your clan’s shame at your easy capitulation? How proud must they be of you?”

  “My lord, no more,” Braedan, but from the look of fury on the woman’s face, it was too late, much too late. Braedan dropped his hand, pulled the confused Gareff back a pace and awaited the fireworks.

  “My clan? Every one of them is dead.” Her tone belied a million emotions quickening through her chest. Her heart began to pound in her chest, and her breathing became belabored as though she had run ten miles to get here. “When you ran away, you condemned every tribe who had stood shoulder to shoulder with you to death. Despite the declaration of peace, the promises of acceptance, Padiskan, and his army, under the remit of his bastard father, tracked down and slaughtered everyone they could find. Seven clans have disappeared under his hand. Others are still in hiding knowing the Prince will never cease his efforts to wipe their existence from the planet. My people weren't the first or the last. I survived because the man who tried to kill me believed me dead instead of frozen by pain and fear.”