"Wait!"
Blade pivoted to face her, balanced like a dancer on the balls of his feet.
The Queen said, "I have given you no leave to go. Offer me any more insult, and I shall see you punished." She flung a cushion at the slumbering sand cat. "Shista!"
The cat snorted, opened a bleary eye, and yawned. Noting the Queen's ire, she rose and stretched, padding over to her friend. Minna glared at the assassin, knowing that Shista would sense her mood and treat the subject of her anger accordingly. Perhaps the sand cat could intimidate him when the Queen could not. Shista wandered over to the assassin, sniffed him, and purred, rubbing her silken length against his legs. Blade, unperturbed, scratched the cat's ears, and she flopped down, her purr growing to a great rumble of pleasure. He smiled and crouched to stroke the recumbent cat.
"Why would you have me stay, when we have no more to discuss?"
Minna stared at him, at a loss for words. The smile lighted his countenance, and she was unable to look away. As if aware of it, his smile faded, and he bowed his head.
The Queen gave herself a mental shake. "I will consider your offer, if you tell me why you want the task so much."
He scratched the sand cat’s throat. "What difference does it make to you?"
"How can the reward tempt a man like you?"
"Does it surprise you that I should want riches and land when I shall never have sons to pass them on to?"
"Yes."
"Perhaps I tire of living in brothels and inns, killing men for a fee and earning nothing but scorn and hatred from all those I meet." He looked up. "I am still young enough to enjoy the reward myself, but, in truth, it does not interest me as much as the prospect of killing King Shandor. If ever there was a man who deserved to die, it is he, and perhaps, by killing him, I shall make my existence worthwhile."
"I see." She nodded. "I shall consider this. You will remain in the palace until I have decided."
His frown betrayed his dislike for her order, but he turned to her and fell on one knee, bowing his head. "My Queen."
"You may go," she said, as he rose and swung away.
Blade stalked to the doors and let himself out. Moments later, Chiana returned, her eyes full of curiosity. Minna made her wait for several minutes before she spoke.
"He will stay in the palace for a while. See to it that he has whatever he needs."
"My Queen. He is an assassin."
Minna nodded. Assassins were held in the lowest esteem, deemed no better than paid murderers. Most were men of the snake or scorpion, cold, unfeeling people without remorse or love. Blade, however, was of the cat, warm, generous individuals whose affections ran deep and strong, who treasured relationships and were prone to love deeply. Despite his lack of a familiar, Blade must share some of these traits, though his trade did not go against his kind, for cats were predatory.
"He is my assassin now. Ensure that he is comfortable."
The chief advisor bowed and retreated, looking puzzled and doubtful.
Chiana found the assassin waiting in the corridor, the two guards who stood outside the Queen's doors watching him. He had donned the black leather tunic of which he had been stripped earlier, and was employed in lacing it up. She averted her eyes from his sculpted torso, visible through the jacket's open front, and turned to lead the way down the corridor.
Twice she glanced back to ensure that he was following, for he walked as silently as his feline kindred. Arriving outside the door to a servant's room, she pushed it open and stood aside, allowing him to enter. He surveyed the chamber with obvious dislike, his lip curling as he turned to her. Chiana raised her chin and met his chilly gaze. As before, his grey eyes sent a jolt through her.
"If you wish for anything, there is a bell pull by the bed, which will summon a maid. Your meals will be brought to you here."
His lips twisted further. "Am I a prisoner then?"
"Certainly not. The Queen has ordered that you have every comfort; it is merely a matter of convenience. You present a slight problem of protocol, since you are not a servant, nor a noble, and so may dine with neither."
"I did not ask to be kept here, Chief Advisor."
She flushed, cursing her traitorous reactions. "You have not given me your name."
"You may call me Blade."
Chiana lowered her eyes, unable to hold his gaze, and glanced at the slender hands at his sides. Beautiful hands, unsuited to a man, especially a killer. She suppressed a shiver. "I must return to the Queen."
The assassin inclined his head, and she closed the door and walked away down the corridor. She frowned as she recalled her first, unnerving encounter with him in the audience room.
Rarely did commoners request an audience with the Queen. Usually their grievances were aired through the lords who governed them, and nobles always applied for an audience in writing. Captain Redgard had informed her of this unusual application, and she had entered the audience chamber to find Blade standing amid a quartet of guards. She would never forget the way he had turned slowly to face her, and the shock of meeting his icy gaze. Her heart had jumped at the sight of him, her breath catching in her throat. Even after he had left, his effect on her lingered. When she had seen him again, battered by his encounter with the guards, she had experienced the same strange reaction in his presence.
Chiana returned to her duties, striving to push his image from her mind.
Chapter Three
A tenday later, the message that Minna-Satu awaited arrived from the front. The soldiers had failed yet again, and King Shandor still lived. Captain Redgard brought the news himself, delivering it with a tinge of reproof in his tone. Minna kicked a cushion across the room, causing Shista to raise her head and look around.
"Shall I select the next group of volunteers, My Queen?" the captain enquired without enthusiasm.
"No. I shall send no more soldiers to perform this task."
Redgard slumped. "As you wish."
"It is not a mission suited to soldiers, Redgard. Do you not agree?"
"As we have seen -"
"Yes, yes. It is a task better suited to an assassin, is it not?"
"Well…" The captain hesitated. "Perhaps, My Queen, but I doubt that an assassin would succeed either. The job is simply impossible."
"No, not impossible. There is little that is truly impossible." Minna paced the floor. "For a man to flap his arms and fly, that is impossible. For a man to live beneath the sea, that is impossible. But to kill King Shandor… is possible, for an assassin."
"Certainly they would be no great loss, and, being men of greed, they will flock to claim the reward…" He trailed off under Minna's glare, and she gestured.
"You may go."
The captain prostrated himself and retreated. Minna went to the window to gaze out at the sun-drenched gardens. Over the last tenday, she had glimpsed Blade twice in it, wandering amongst the flowers and shrubs, his black leather garb soaking up the light. His solitude told of sorrow and pain, and she sensed that death walked in his shadow, a hated ally at his side.
She turned as Chiana entered. "Send for the assassin."
The chief advisor retreated almost as quickly as the captain had done. Minna stared out of the window while she waited, her eyes following the winding silken banners that flew above the temple. The dream silk snapped and slithered in the breeze, its soft hiss underscoring the cheerful birdsong. Minna had never liked the dream silk. The invasion of her dreams by its sliding coils of bright cloth sometimes woke her in shivering distress, but she could rarely remember the unpleasant dreams it evoked.
The church used the power of its silken dream disturbers to frighten the unfaithful into unwilling respectfulness, claiming the ability to madden those who did not worship Tinsharon. The long streamers of gushing, many-coloured silk rustled into peoples' dreams even on the stillest nights, when the hanging coils could fill a man with dread and rouse him screaming from his rest. She wondered if Blade had ever experienced the chilling touch of silken dreams, and what kind of horrors the slithering silk had brought him.