Invisible Assassin (35 page)
Read Invisible Assassin Online
Authors: T C Southwell
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Epic
"Please let me go!" She squeaked as he jerked her hair, the pain making her eyes water.
"Tell me what he said to you, and I will let you go."
"He told me not to tell you what he said."
"Did he? But if you want me to let you go, you will have to."
Chiana aimed a slap at his face, and Blade's left hand flashed up to block the blow. He grunted when her hand struck his broken fingers, releasing her to grip his wrist as if trying to stem the tide of pain flowing up his arm. Chiana jumped out of reach, her anger turning to remorse. He grimaced, biting his lip as sweat popped out on his brow.
"I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you," she said.
"Get out," he snarled.
"I am sorry."
"Out!"
Chiana walked to the door, then turned to face him again. "Shamsara said that he gave you many years of his life when he healed you. You will live a long time."
Blade grabbed the water jug on the bedside table and hurled it at her, making her duck as it whistled past her head and smashed into the wall beside the door, spraying water. She straightened, brushing moisture from her sleeve.
"You cannot frighten me, Blade. I know you too well now."
"Get out."
Chiana left, closing the door behind her, and leant against it while she waited for her legs to stop shaking. Her words had not been a lie, for it was not fear that made her tremble. Her love for him burnt within her like a flame, at times flaring up to sear her wounded heart. The emotion that filled her when she was near him threatened to rob her of her self-control and make her beg him once more for some small gesture of affection.
Only her pride, and the knowledge of the futility of such a plea, kept her from making an utter fool of herself. She closed her eyes with a sigh, relishing the memory of that precious moment of closeness, the powerful seduction he had unleashed to ensnare her as he had done to so many of his victims. Pushing herself away from the door, she went to find Verdan and send him to Blade with a pain draught. She tried to sort through the astonishing turmoil of emotions that filled her. Now she wished she had not told him of Shamsara's gift, for it would only bring him sorrow.
Blade stared at the ceiling, his teeth gritted. His hand throbbed with vicious intensity. How long was he doomed to live for now? The prospect appalled him, and he cursed the Idol of the Beasts. He recalled Chiana's last words and smiled. She was right, she knew him too well. He was surprised she had bothered to duck; she knew he had not aimed to hit her with the jug. If he had, ducking would not have saved her from a painful bruise. If nothing else, he had to admit that his wife was courageous, sometimes even intelligent, though gullible. Verdan came in with a cup, and he sighed at the prospect of sweet oblivion.
For the next tenday, Verdan kept Blade drugged to dull the pain, and he slept most of the time. When he woke, he made everyone's life miserable with his ill temper and cutting tongue, so much so that even Arken lost patience with him. Chiana spent all her free time at his bedside, but the affairs of state left her only a time-glass or so each day, and Blade showed no appreciation for her company. He occupied his time reading, taking little interest in life outside his room, and Chiana feared that he would slide back into his depression.
Denied access to the cellars due to his immobility, however, he retained his icy aloofness. There was a sham of an enquiry into Prince Armin's death, a formality soon swept under the rug. Kerrion evinced little remorse at his half-brother’s demise, and Armin's attack on the Queen condemned him anyway. Blade was weaned off the pain draughts as his wounds healed, and his temper grew worse as boredom set in.
An entire moon phase passed before he was able to exercise with the aid of a stick, a terrible limp hampering him. The bones of his leg healed straight, and Verdan claimed the assassin's recovery to be a great triumph of medical science. Chiana thought it more likely to be the result of Shamsara's gift. The fingers of Blade's left hand also healed perfectly, and no trace remained of the terrible injuries the Cotti torturer had inflicted. His handicap continued to sour his mood, however, and this time Jayon was not there to tend him. Blade never spoke of the young commander, nor showed any remorse at his death.
A tenday later, Chiana woke to find a white shay flower on the pillow beside her. She did not need to go to Blade's room to know that it was empty, nor question the grooms to discover that a horse was gone from the stables. She clasped the delicate, spidery bloom to her as tears ran down her face and splashed onto its petals. Her love for the strange, enigmatic man would never die, but shay flowers were used at funerals, and it was his way of telling her to mourn him as if he was dead, for he would never return.
*****
The tale continues in Book IV,
Knight of the Veil
, Book V,
Master of the Dance
, and Book VI,
Lord Protector
. Then get the two prequels,
Dead Son
and
God Touched
.
About the author
T. C. Southwell was born in Sri Lanka and moved to the Seychelles when she was a baby. She spent her formative years exploring the islands – mostly alone. Naturally, her imagination flourished and she developed a keen love of other worlds. The family travelled through Europe and Africa and, after the death of her father, settled in South Africa.
T. C. Southwell has written over twenty novels and five screenplays. Her hobbies include motorcycling, horse riding and art, and she earns a living in the IT industry.
All illustrations and cover designs by the author.
Contact the author at [email protected]
Acknowledgements
Mike Baum and Janet Longman, former employers, for their support, encouragement, and help. My mother, without whose financial support I could not have dedicated myself to writing for ten years. Isabel Cooke, former agent, whose encouragement and enthusiasm led to many more books being written, including this one. Suzanne Stephan, former agent, who has helped me so much over the past six years, and Vanessa Finaughty, good friend and business partner, for her support, encouragement and editing skills.
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