“How soon can I go after the King?” he asked.
“Within the year.”
Ambitious. “And when the King’s dead?”
“I become the Commander of Ixia, and you can have a position on my staff. But first you need to find out who hired you and then kill him or her.”
“What if it was the King?”
“Then assassinate his go-between. A warning to the King not to underestimate me.”
“All right. I’m in.”
Ambrose stepped back. “Do it right.”
A different type of fear gripped him. Dying was a known state—he’d cease to exist—but giving his loyalty to another...one he barely knew...was a new form of terror. Yet his curiosity nudged the uncertainties aside, and his desire to plunge his knife into the King’s heart trumped all fear.
Valek knelt on one knee. “I pledge my loyalty to you.”
“What’s your name?”
“Valek.”
Ambrose cut his right palm and held his hand out. Valek swiped his fingers along his bleeding chest before clasping the man’s strong grip.
“I accept your pledge, Valek.”
They shook hands, linking their fates together.
Valek returned to Hedda’s school and reported success. She’d never reveal her client’s name, so he followed her when she left to collect the rest of the assassination fee. The man who paid her wore tailored silk clothes and had a half dozen bodyguards around him. Valek recognized him as Prince Theoin, one of the King’s four nephews.
Fury burned in his chest. Hedda was well aware of Valek’s hatred for the King. To send him on a mission that would benefit the man... He clenched his hands, digging his fingernails into the flesh of his palms in order to calm down. Valek needed to remain emotionless and view the situation with logic.
The King had sent a trusted family member to hire an assassin, which meant he must be terrified of Ambrose. As he should be. Valek looked forward to killing Theoin. It would remove one more corrupt royal.
Valek waited for Hedda in her hidden windowless apartment. The one she thought no one could find. The one where she kept her safe, her personal files, her belongings and her bedroom. It made sense for her to be so well protected. It had to be hard to fall asleep knowing you were surrounded by assassins.
He scratched his chest. Ambrose’s cut had scabbed over and the throbbing had been replaced by an annoying itch. Valek decided he’d rather have the pain until his fingernail ripped a scab off. Ouch.
When Hedda arrived, she didn’t react to Valek’s presence. No surprise she had a warning system in place for when someone breached her private rooms.
Valek lounged in a chair in her living area, giving the impression he was relaxed even though he was far from it.
Hedda held up a pouch. It jingled. “Couldn’t wait for your half?”
“Keep it,” he said. “In fact...” He tossed a large sack onto the end table. It slapped the wood with a hard rattle. “Here’s all my halves, minus living and travel expenses.”
“Why?”
“I was never in this for the money.”
“But—”
“Consider it payment for all the food, shelter and training you provided. I’m grateful for that.” He stood.
“You don’t need—”
“Yes, I do, because I quit.”
Understanding flashed. She stepped back. Her hand reached for her dagger.
“Relax, Hedda. I’m not going to kill you even though you knew the King ordered Ambrose’s assassination. Have I done his dirty work before?” he demanded.
As expected, she refused to answer. At least she was consistent.
“You’ll never get close enough to the King without help,” Hedda said.
Nausea swelled as her words sank in. “And you never intended to help me since he’s probably your best customer.”
Again she kept quiet. Smart.
He clamped down on the anger boiling in his stomach. “Better not spend the fee you collected on Ambrose’s assassination. Your King will soon be asking for a refund.”
“You didn’t—”
“Nope. He’s alive and well. And I advise you not to send anyone else after him.”
“Why? Are you planning to protect him?”
“I don’t need to.” Valek left her rooms and hurried from the school’s grounds. If Hedda sounded the alarm, he’d be outnumbered and thrown off the cliffs.
Besides, he had a prince to kill.
* * *
Valek was jolted from his memories by two border soldiers bookending a young man. The three of them waited for him in front of his office door. The guards’ grim expressions warned him to expect trouble. Valek studied the scared man trapped between them. He wore Sitian garb. Ah.
“Report, Sergeant,” Valek said to the man on the right.
“This man claims to be a messenger from Sitia, but he wouldn’t relinquish his message at the border as required.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve been ordered to deliver it to you directly,” the young man piped up.
Interesting. “By who?”
The messenger glanced at the guards. “It’s confidential. For your ears only.”
“All right.” Valek unlocked his office door.
“Sir, he may be a Sitian spy or an assassin,” the sergeant said.
Valek stared at him. “And what are you basing this...assessment on?”