25. Duke Josen

Ipick up a piece of bread, holding it loosely between my fingers as I stare out into the festivities. This should be impossible. I don't understand how the King could allow this to happen – not that I would ever question my liege in his decisions.

As the Duke of a powerful family of assassins, my childhood was abnormal at best. My family is ruthless, killing without discriminating. One of my first memories is of accompanying my mother on a mission. I was barely old enough to walk, but I remember the way her victim's blood painted the walls.

I was raised to do the same, to uphold our family's brutal reputation and grow our already sizable fortune. It was only in my early adulthood that I befriended the King, his sudden rise to power leading him to rely on a neutral party to keep his sanity. At the time, it was purely a mission, a play for power, but I found a likeness in the King I could see within myself.

My closeness with the King transformed my priorities. Where previously I eliminated anyone for the right price, my goals are now more aligned towards justice. Protecting the Crown and the power of the dark elves is of utmost importance. Having a purpose that I believe in – more than just fulfilling my family's legacy – has changed me. Made me more focused, more dangerous.

It has not made me any more tolerant of humans.

The ceremony earlier was a complete travesty – an elf marrying a human pet? And not just any elf, a Duke! Up until that moment, I thought it had been a sick joke. Surrounded by endless gold and countless simpering nobles, I had nearly failed to disguise my contempt when the couple declared their vows to each other.

My training was too thorough to reveal the emotion on my face, though.

My eyes flick to the bride sitting on the Duchess"s throne, and I repress a shudder at the sight. Her pale skin stands out amongst those of the dark elves, her brown hair dull and wrong. I pointedly ignore the radiant smile on her face and the happiness abounding in the hall.

Loud voices interrupt my perusal, and I look over to where the Duke greets his cousin warily. I watch the interaction carefully. If his cousin shows any loyalty to his dead uncle, he will need to be eliminated. Swiftly.

I watch as they embrace, and a mixture of relief and disappointment fills me. I've never liked Wisleath Slayer, but killing him would be an unnecessary complication that I don't have time for right now.

The gentle smile Slayer aims towards his wife fills me with disgust. He used to be the biggest asshole in town, his temper as violent as the flames he commands. I recall the way he reacted to the marriage of Duke Carmichael. What a hypocrite! Now both of them disgrace our kind with their human wives.

I honestly don't see the appeal. Humans are weak and fully reliant on our mercy. They have no magic and less power than even the lowliest dark elf. My eyes roam across the celebrating nobles, and I sneer internally. Even marrying a zagfer would be less shameful than this farce.

The Duke finally turns away from his cousin and starts making his way to his wife. I move to pick up my glass. The movement pulls his attention to me, and I raise my glass to him in mock congratulations.

He acknowledges me with a shallow bow as a slight frown crosses his face. He will know that I am here to report back to the King, but not the true reason. An assassin must always have an alibi.

The music slows and the song ends. Breathlessly, khuzuth elves leave the dancing area to grab refreshments and cool down. The corner I'm standing in suddenly gets crowded. Jeweled hands reach for drinks as chatter reaches my ears.

"We haven't had a celebration like this in ages!" a female elf says. Her companion fans herself as she sighs.

"I know. It seems a bit strange being around Duke Slayer after everything his family has put the Marquis through," she replies. The two elves are obviously friends of the Old Marquis, and I keep still as I listen to them continue. I draw the shadows around me for good measure. Spying is one of the most important skills of an established assassin, and one of the first lessons taught to me as a child.

"I guess killing his uncle and exposing the plot to kill the King showed his true colors," the first elf replies. She leans in and lowers her voice. "What do you think the King will do to the rest of the traitors?" she whispers.

Her friend's eyes widen, and she glances around before replying. "I've heard they've been locked up and they're being tortured. Some say they've brought in some of the King's monsters from the Dark Forest."

I smirk. If only they knew. There are things much worse than the creatures that make the Dark Forest their home. Their whispers taper off as they move back towards the fire, and I take the opportunity to release the shadows and set my glass down.

With a last glance at the celebration, I turn and take off towards the exit. I have some work to do tonight. It will help that multiple elves have seen me here tonight. I made sure to wait until everyone had copious amounts of wine.

The ride to the prison is quiet and allows me to sink into my ruthless assassin persona. I need my full skillset at my disposal if I'm going to pull this off. The King has sentenced the traitors to the worst section of the already terrible prison, but I can't let this slide.

It's not often that I take matters into my own hands. My loyalty to the King supersedes my personal desires most of the time. In this case, though, the two are aligned, even if the King would not outright approve of my actions.

I stop the driver on the outskirts of the prison, treading on light feet the rest of the way. The building is large and imposing, dark slate shining in the evening light. Turrets rise from the corners of the octagon shape, and I can vaguely see the soldiers keeping watch.

The moon hangs low, casting a silvery light to see by as I skirt along the edge of the Dark Forest. I may have smirked at the female elves' fear earlier, but I'm not an idiot, nor do I have time tonight for a spat with one of the King's monsters.

The secret entrance to the prison is hidden by vines growing on the rock face. It's something only my family knows about, a trade secret that will never pass my lips. I tilt my head, listening to make sure I haven't been spotted or followed, and brush the leaves away. The darkness takes over when I step into the tunnel.

The ground slopes downward for a time before ascending again, and I know I've passed into the high-security zone. My ears prick as the sounds of wailing and groaning reach me, and I wrinkle my nose.

Only the worst of the worst are kept in this area of the prison, those truly deserving of terrible fates. A single year in this section is a punishment worse than death, and everyone here has been sentenced for the rest of their miserable lives.

Normally, I would agree with this punishment, but a plot against the King is too much of a risk. The fact that it had gone so far before Siderus exposed his uncle is a concern that keeps me up at night.

With both Duke Carmichael and Duke Slayer now mated and married to humans, the line of succession is unclear. If something happens to the King before things are stabilized, the realm will fall into chaos. Chaos is not good for business.

I run a hand through my short hair as I reach the passage that will take me into the prison proper, glancing around the corner to ensure I am alone. The enchanted stone in my pocket warms as it fights the spells placed in this area – spells to make one relive your worst moments and twist your best memories into nightmares.

A slight headache forms behind my eyes, a side effect of the protection and the reason why the guards don't spend a lot of time here. It's useful for me tonight as I stride down the passage, the solid iron doors to my left and right failing to block the sounds of despair bleeding through.

My first stop comes at the third door on the right. I roll my neck and pull out my dagger. There is questioning to be done and traitors to assassinate, and no one can know it was me.

I slip back out of the tunnel an hour later. My ceremonial outfit is covered in blood, and I lean down to wipe my blade on the thick grass. As I walk away, shouts reach my ears, and a smug smile lifts the corner of my lips.

My carriage is exactly where I left it. The driver, a faithful servant, keeps his eyes forward as I get in. A change of clothes waits on the seat opposite me, plus an enchanted cloth that removes any evidence from my skin.

"Straight to the palace, Your Grace?" the driver asks, not turning around to meet my eyes as I start changing my clothes.

"Yes. I have a feeling the King will be receiving some rather upsetting news shortly," I reply with a satisfied grin.