“So you would execute a man with no real evidence? Just conjecture?”
“People’s words count for more than you think, Your Highness. How often do you rely on the opinion of others before carrying out justice in your kingdom?” Adelei glanced up at her father, a triumphant smile on her face. But his shoulders sagged and flesh stretched too tight across thin bones. Her smile fell. Why did she care though what he thought? He stared at her as if she were a stranger, which only confused her further. “You look… concerned.”
“I didn’t realize the Amaskans held life in so little regard.”
Anger swept away some of her confusion. “Your Majesty, we are the only ones who hold it in such high esteem. Before the Order of Amaska takes a contract, we research. We study. We make absolutely sure we come down on the right side, that whoever our contract kill is, that the person is evil. That it’s a necessary killing.”
“So what did you do?” he whispered.
“I don’t follow.”
“What did you do that was so evil that the Amaskans called for your death? Surely Ida told you.”
Adelei stood and put the chair between them. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t need to. Something grew in the pit of her stomach, some terrible knowledge, and the room spun. She gripped the chair’s back with whitened knuckles. “She was sent to kidnap me, yes.”
“She was sent to kill you.”
“I think she misunderstood. Master Bredych would never harm a child, nor would any in the Order.”
Her father laughed, but his fisted fingers betrayed his façade. “The man slit the throat of his own sister. Yet you doubt his ability to kill a child? Why else do you think you were taken?”
“For a peace treaty,” she muttered. Adelei wrapped the lie around her shoulders in the chill of the room.
“You still believe that lie?” His cup flew to land on its side before the fireplace. “I never sold you, child. Peace treaty be damned.” A guardsman peeked into the room and darted back out at Adelei’s narrowed glare.
“What Ida told you was truth. She was sent to kill you but could not. Don’t you see? The honor code you seek is what saved you. Ida knew it went against the Order’s supposed code to kill a helpless child, so she refused. And for that, her brother tried to kill her. Your own people whom you call family—they aren’t as justified as you think. They talk a good talk in the recruitment room, but when it comes down to it, they aren’t much more than hired thugs on a zealot’s quest to eradicate his idea of evil.”
Her own fist curled. She wanted to hit him.
Wanted to rip the lying tongue from his mouth. The battle rage fell on her, and she tasted blood where she’d bitten her tongue. King Leon stepped toward her, his hands outstretched. “Adelei, look at yourself. I speak the truth—you know it—and yet they have you wanting me dead. I can see it in your eyes, child. You want to kill your own father for speaking truth. What kind of person does that? Certainly not a peacekeeper of justice.”
The throwing knives were within reach. Her finger rested on one at her wrist. She could have it out and halfway to this throat before he could call for the guards. But that would be wrong. He was the client, not the enemy.
Before her body caught up with the direction of her thoughts, Adelei tumbled out the door. Her feet carried her in the stable’s direction where she lost the contents of her dinner. What is wrong with me? Why am I so off-kilter?
She touched a hand to her clammy cheek. By the time her mind stopped swimming enough to recognize her surroundings, the lump in her throat had grown. Adelei stared at the stall her horse had once occupied. The mare, not Midnight, whickered at her lightly and sniffed her shoulder in search of food. “I’m all out of carrots,” she muttered.
In the absence of a treat, she scratched the horse behind the ears absentmindedly. He’s right. Damn him, he’s right. Why did Master Bredych want me dead? How could he accept a contract on a child? And who had ordered the contract? I don’t know him at all—my own father and he’s nothing like the man I grew up knowing. Can I trust anything he’s ever said? The questions came fast and hard, relentlessly hammering on her psyche.
Boots scuffled the stone floor. Another assassin? Adelei spun on her heel until she faced the stall’s entrance. A single candlelight provided little illumination. She scratched the mare and gave the impression that all she wanted was some one-on-one with a horse. But her muscles quivered in response to the battle rush.
Another candlelight approached. Prince Gamun leaned over the stall’s half door, all smiles. “I thought I saw you heading this way. How curious to find you in the stables, considering your horse is dead.”
Words meant to hurt only angered Adelei. I’ve had a lot of shit thrown at me today, and you’ve picked the wrong person to mess with. I’m itching for a good fight. She clenched her teeth and said, “Curiouser still to find Your Highness here, among the horse shit.”
Adelei snatched the brush from the wall beside her and had the joy of watching him flinch. She groomed the mare, the soothing motion helping to control the boil beneath the surface.
“I was always taught that the Amaskans were the ultimate in the practice of neutrality, their justice carried out in swift impartiality and calm. And yet you are an enigma. Considered the best of the best—despite having a temper like thunder. How is it that you gained your place amongst the Amaskans?” The corners of his mouth curled up in half-smile, half-grimace.
She didn’t answer, but the brush’s motions sped up. He continued, “Maybe you gained your place through your
