2. Dagmara

The Ilusaurian stared at her. His chocolate eyes were neither afraid nor accusatory, but rather curious. He cocked his head. “I caught you in the alley with that man, stealing his ring after you poisoned him.”

“That is quite an accusation,” Dagmara snapped.

“I’m waiting to hear you say, ‘It’s not what it looks like.’ ”

But it was, in fact, what it looked like.

She didn’t want to kill someone who wasn’t on the list. She was an assassin, not a murderer. There was a difference, she often told herself. An assassin was a job title, much like an executioner, whereas a murderer was driven by free will. Dagmara had no free will. She was hired by the king and in return she and her brother lived in luxury at the fortress.

The king’s only rule was to have no witnesses. If she broke her agreement, what would happen to her brother?

She would not be caught like her mother had. She had no choice but to kill this handsome foreigner.

At least that’s what she convinced herself as she reached for her dagger.

She withdrew her blade with one swift motion, creating an upward arc, remembering the techniques her mother had taught her.

Sabien was faster than she anticipated. He dodged, before clobbering the side of her face with his fist.

She staggered back, clutching her cheek with one hand. Her mouth was agape. He had punched her.

“Don’t fight me, Dagger,” he said under his breath, “You won’t win.”

Dagmara could feel the dizziness begin to set in. Her heart rate was increasing, but her adrenaline pushed her to stay alert. “You underestimate me.”

She lunged forward to stab him, and he countered out of the way, withdrawing his own dagger. As Dagmara whirled around, she saw the knife coming toward her chest. She barely dodged in time, and the tip of his blade raked across her shoulder. She felt it pierce her skin, slicing across her collarbone.

She would not meet the same fate as her mother, dying as an assassin for the Azuremi King. Dagmara was the only person her brother had left.

But she was never as good as her mother. Not with her condition. That’s why she learned how to adapt.

Yanking a vial from her belt, Dagmara threw it at the ground. As soon as it made contact, the glass shattered and released its contents. It combusted into a blinding light and a pillar of smoke rose. It was enough of a distraction to send her dagger into Sabien’s stomach.

Through the smoke, she could barely make out his expression. His lips parted as if to say something, shock written across his face. She saw the Ilusaurian crest on his vest and knew no one could discover his body in this kingdom. Azurem couldn’t risk going to war with Ilusauri, especially when the Mad King of Ilusauri was so unpredictable.

She yanked the dagger out of his stomach, and a rush of crimson blood oozed from the wound. She hiked up her dress and kicked him with all her might. He went toppling back over the edge of the bridge.

She didn’t look over the edge. She knew he wouldn’t survive the rapids in the rushing river at the bottom of the ravine.

“I’m sorry,” Dagmara said under her breath. She wiped the blood on her dress before sheathing her dagger once more. She had never killed anyone but her targets before. The blood from the wound on her shoulder began to trickle down her arm.

She brushed aside the guilt that coursed through her veins. He was a nobody from Ilusauri…it didn’t matter.

She hoped that was true as she fled into the shadows, returning to the fortress. She hardly made it to the front gate before darkness flooded her vision, and she fell unconscious.