Page 3

For a few seconds, time stopped. The cramped, damp den disappeared, leaving just me and my opponent, our breaths blending together, both with our faces covered by a thin cloth, with slits just large enough for our eyes so we could see without revealing our identities.

Of course, I could identify a male with much more than his features. I could identify him by the way he walked, the size of his shoulders, the sharpness of his fae ears, the sway in his stance.

But it didn't matter who he was. It didn’t matter who I was, either. We were simply pawns, simply weapons in this wicked, dark world. With one swift motion, I could end his life.

We were all that fragile.

A low growl came from my opponent’s chest, reminding me of who and where I was.

I turned my attention to the back wall, where Lord lurked in waiting.

“Sloppy,” he muttered.

I scrambled off my opponent and sheathed my weapon, standing tall with my hands clasped behind my back, waiting for more instruction.

My opponent did the same.

Not so cocky now, are you?

That had been another key component I had learned during my lifetime of studying killers under Lord:Everyone bowed to someone.

Lord stepped forward with a lazy amount of patience, making us wait every torturous second. His typical dark, perfectlycreased trousers and spotless shirt nearly blended with the underground stone around him, the tiny stream of moonlight reflecting off the shine in his hair. He stood with his shoulders back and his hands relaxed, but he towered over everyone in Midgrave with no effort at all. He was aging, yes, but his presence alone still made even the most ferocious fighters tremble before him.

“I expected more from you both,” he drawled. I dipped my chin, unable to look at him as he continued. “If he were a vampyre, you would have been torn to shreds.”

“Yes, Lord,” I replied, keeping my head down.

I stared at the ground in front of me, not wanting to see the lingering doubt that would be all over Lord’s face.

“And you,” he said, turning his attention to the male beside me. “You let a female half your size take you off your feet. That is an embarrassment, and not one I will allow here. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord,” he grumbled.

I tried not to smile.

Being satisfied by my opponent’s criticism would not lessen my own, and my punishments did not end here with words.

I was not just another assassin being trained by Lord to kill any and every threat that entered Midgrave. Lord had made killing vampyres his life purpose. He gave everything he had to protect the fae of Midgrave from those monsters, and he expected more from me. He expectedperfection.

And that fight was nothing close to perfect.

The male was strong, stronger than most. It was hard to tell with the disguised faces, but I was certain I hadn’t fought one that strong before.

Maybe Lord was testing me, finding stronger opponents to push my strength.

When I looked up again, Lord was already staring at me. I had learned the meaning behind most of his facial expressions over the years, either from all the hours we spent together or as a form of protection.

Either way, I was always expecting, always watching, searching for those clues.

Like when his lips tightened into a thin line, curling slightly in the corners as he squinted his eyes.

That meant I was royally fucked.

It took everything in me not to cower away when I saw that expression grow on his mouth, followed by the darkness of disappointment in his aged eyes.

“Do you two think killing vampyres is easy?”

“No, Lord,” we answered in unison.