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SCARLETT

“They move? All of them? Every few days?” Sorin asked when they stepped from the warehouse, Scarlett shutting the door behind them.

“Yes,” she said, pulling her hood up over her head. “For nearly three years. We didn’t move them as often for a while, but the need has again arisen.”

“That is a lot of children to move.”

“It is, and it’s worth it to keep them safe, but it’s also exhausting,” Scarlett replied.

She smiled to herself as they made their way down the alley. At one point in the afternoon, little Tula had brought Sorin a cookie and asked if he would smile. Scarlett had burst into laughter at the question. He took the cookie from Tula, ate it, then hoisted her onto his shoulders, where she merrily perched the remainder of the time they were there.

“Everything here seems so…normal,” Sorin commented as they rounded the corner and stepped back onto the street.

“That’s by design,” Scarlett answered, scanning the road. She didn’t want to go back the way they came. “This building, for example,” she said, leading him down the street, “the leather business they’re advertising is fighting leathers and suits designed for assassins,and the jewelry repair is actually weapons.”

“And the apothecary?”

Scarlett grimaced, rounding another corner onto a deserted side street. The towering buildings blocked the sunlight, casting it in shadows. “Opium and other substances.”

“Ah,” was Sorin’s answer.

“You said that your home is seen as wicked and dark. Does it appear any different than here?”

“No. My Court is stunning. There are forests along the border, but the farther north you go, the Fiera Mountains start, and words cannot accurately describe their beauty,” Sorin answered.

Scarlett turned to study him. His tone sounded wistful as he described his home. “You miss it.”

“Very much,” he answered, his eyes meeting hers.

“And you—”

They both froze at the sound of groaning bows.

“Shit.” She looked up to find four archers on the rooftops, arrows trained on them. “Do not move. They are black ashwood arrows.”

“May I remind you that they would be just as deadly to you,” Sorin murmured from the corner of his mouth.

“Shut up,” she snapped, turning slowly. Someone was down here that would be addressing her or taking her somewhere. She just didn’t know which one yet. “Remember what I told you. Do whatever you must to get out.”

“I am not going to leave you here,” Sorin drawled, sounding bored.

“I can take care of myself,” she hissed, her hand slowly reaching for the dagger on her thigh.

“That you can or the last thirteen years of training have been a complete waste of my time and resources.”

Scarlett had to use all of her training to keep the shock from her face. The Assassin Lord was here. He never came to her. She was always summoned. Always.

Well, except once. One time he had come to claim her himself when she had repeatedly refused to heed his summons.Instinctively, her arm drifted to her abdomen.

“I am glad to see you remember the last time I had to come and find you myself.” He stepped from the shadows of a side alley. Three others were with him. Who they were, she had no idea. They were all hooded and heavily armed. The Assassin Lord jerked his chin and two of those men stalked toward her. They gripped her arms and began dragging her towards him.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Sorin lurch for her. “No,” she ordered him. “Do not interfere with this. Do not move.”

“Commanding one of the king’s generals now?” the Assassin Lord chuckled as the men stopped before him. “I have indeed trained you well. First the prince, now one of his top generals. We will have this kingdom in our pocket before long.”

Scarlett lifted her chin. “He is helping me figure out who is coming after our children since you can’t be bothered to get off your ass and help.”

The fist to her stomach happened before she could take a bracing breath. She doubled over, but the men holding her arms held her up. She heard the low growl that escaped from Sorin.