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CHAPTER THREE

NEAH

T he manor house amid the trees was dark when Neah approached. It had taken her three days to reach Midmyr Forest and she’d opted to eat and replenish her energy in a tavern in the nearby town before proceeding to Zennon’s estate.

Her thighs were sore from the ride and she smelled more like horse than she typically liked, but the information she’d stumbled upon was more important than her discomfort.

So she’d ridden hard and fast, desperate to reach the part of her kingdom that she’d once called home, before anyone could realise what she’d discovered and stop her from warning the king.

She’d arrived in Midmyr yesterday evening and had made camp in the trees, waiting to see if she’d been followed. No such pursuer appeared, but Neah still couldn’t relax. Instead, she’d walked the cobbled streets of the town and did what a spy did best: listened.

The chatter was minimal, mostly local gossip about whose wife was cheating and how the price of grain had increased thanks to the ongoing tensions with nobles in the further northern reaches of the kingdom.

When Neah was satisfied that she wouldn’t be bringing chaos to Zennon’s doorstep, she’d set off for the house and had found it unnervingly quiet.

The trees rustled in the breeze and awareness skittered across Neah’s spine. She couldn’t place what it was, but something wasn’t right here.

Her footfalls were quiet against the compact earth, her dark cloak barely stirring the leaves that littered the ground as she leapt over the high hedge that surrounded the estate and flanked the heavy gates that protected the property.

She may not have been able to shift, but her senses were still sharper than that of a human and her strength and speed were heightened too. Maybe one day her animal form would come out of hiding, but admittedly she’d begun to doubt the excuses her parents offered of her being a ‘late bloomer’.

The thud of her feet hitting the ground was minimal, but she froze in place all the same, waiting for a sound to indicate she’d been caught. When nothing moved, she continued toward the house looming up and over her in a dark silhouette.

Where were all the guards? Zennon was a noble and typically had a small retinue to look after her and the grounds, yet nobody had noticed Neah’s presence. While she was good at what she did, she wasn’t sure she could claim this as a result of her own, sheer talent.

A trellis clung to the side of the manor, leading from the ground to the middle of the wall, just a small amount of space away from the window she knew led to Zennon’s bedroom.

The wood creaked slightly under foot as Neah climbed, the small vines beneath her palms saving her from the worst of the splinters, and when she reached the top she eyed the distance between the trellis and the window ledge.

She could make that. She hoped.

Not giving herself time to chicken out or worry, Neah launched herself from the trellis and gripped the edges of the stone sill with her bare hands as she painstakingly lifted herself up until she could swing a leg onto the ledge.

It was just big enough for her to crouch and she frowned when she tried the window and found it unlocked.

Making a mental note to yell at Zennon later, Neah assessed the room’s interior.

She shouldn’t have been able to break in so easily.

The window had opened soundlessly and Neah slipped inside the room, the familiar scent of sage, lavender, and honey filling her senses and relaxing her somewhat.

It was dark inside, and the house was quiet, only the gentle breathing of the figure beneath the covers making a sound.

Neah crept closer, the plush rug beneath her feet muffling her steps until she stood over the bed and found Zennon safe.

Then she clamped a hand over her best friend’s face to muffle any noise she might make when she awoke. Zennon had a tendency to swing first and think later.

Brown eyes flashed open, alarm making the whites of Zennon’s eyes stand out before recognition lit her face.

Neah touched her free hand to her own mouth and Zennon nodded, agreeing to the silence as Neah sat down on the edge of her bed.

“Where are your guards?” she said quietly, the words barely a breath as she murmured them into Zennon’s ear. If her friend had been a shifter like Neah then she would have heard her clearly without Neah leaning down, but, as it was, Zennon was human and therefore more limited.

Zennon’s dark brows drew together, telling Neah everything she needed to know. Whatever had happened to the guards hadn’t been planned. Had someone known Neah was coming here and tried to head her off? But then, why wait until she was inside the house? Why not attack in the forest? Or the town?

Neah stood and Zennon started to follow, swinging her long legs out from beneath the sheets before Neah held up a hand and shook her head.

Nearly imperceptible footsteps vibrated the wooden floor and Neah slipped underneath the space of Zennon’s bed as the other girl sank back down and feigned sleep.

The door opened, a shadow filling the doorway visible only from the gleam of steel on either side of their hips.

What the Hel was going on?

Neah tensed, watching the figure come closer. The sing of their blade as it was removed from the holster at their side sent goosebumps over her skin and she could only assume the figure was human, otherwise they might have sensed the second heartbeat thundering in the room.

They closed the last of the distance and Neah readied herself.

The mattress moved. The figure grunted, and Neah swept her legs out and under the assassin. She was on her feet in moments and pinned the figure to the ground by shoving their own dagger down with force until it embedded through their thigh and into the floor beneath.

They screamed, the tenor clearly male, and Neah had a moment of smugness as she glimpsed the blood crusted around the white skin of his nose where Zennon had taken him by surprised and socked him.

It was a fleeting feeling though, because that was when his friends joined the fun.

Two had swords and another favoured daggers, and Neah was baffled. Why on earth would someone send four assassins to attack a human noble?

“You have some explaining to do,” she muttered to Zennon as she stripped the wounded assassin of his remaining weapons and handed them to her friend. She wasn’t a shifter, but Zennon could hold her own with a sword at least.

The other woman accepted the blade with a grim nod and Neah placed a foot to the throat of the man on the floor as he struggled to get up with his pinned leg.

“Now, we can be civilised about this,” Neah said, eyes on the newcomers.

“Or you can die. You decide.” Neah assessed the three remaining assassins as the one beneath her boot squirmed.

Their faces were partially covered with a strip of cloth but their eyes were visible as they looked between each other and stepped forward as one.

“Death it is,” she said, bringing her foot down with force and not flinching as the assassin’s neck snapped.

This particularly enraged one of the assassins with the sword and he growled, amber eyes glowing as he stepped forward and then widening as he looked down at the dagger in his chest. Neah lowered her hand and stepped forward to retrieve his sword before he could hit the ground.

His eyes had been a dead give away of his shifter heritage and it was better to dispose of the biggest threat quickly and efficiently.

He hadn’t even seen her take his friend’s blade.

Zennon traded blows with the other daggered assassin and Neah forced herself to focus on the one who had her in his sights, rather than fretting over her friend. Zennon would be fine .

Her borrowed sword swung effortlessly in her grip, well-balanced if a little heavier than she would have liked, and she nodded to the other assassin. “Shall we?”

He darted toward her, swinging the blade with precision and a strength that surprised her until she saw the gold of his eyes, matching her own. In the shadows of the room, she’d missed the tell-tale colour. Another shifter. Fuck.

Their blades clashed and she met him blow for blow, faltering slightly when his strength dwarfed hers and her arm shook as she defended against him. He moved with grace, his footsteps never hesitating, like he had formal training much like she did. So she took a risk.

Sword-play was clearly where he was comfortable, and so she batted his blade away and used the opportunity to move in closer and stun him with a blow to his sternum before snapping up her knee and catching him in the jaw.

Swords were a gentleman’s weapon, for the most part, but Neah had found that bending the rules could be just as useful as learning them in the first place.

Her borrowed sword slid cleanly through the assassin’s chest, the shocked widening of his eyes visible as she pulled the sword out just as swiftly as it had entered.

Zennon cried out, the daggered-assassin having slashed across her chest. It was a nick, barely a scratch, but the sound of Zennon’s pain plus the scent of all the blood in the room had her more animalistic side clamouring for revenge, to protect.

She whirled, sword flashing, and Zennon shrieked at the flash of blood that hit her skin as the assassin’s head tumbled to the floor.

The part of Neah that wasn’t human scanned the room, taking in the gore dispassionately as she searched for further threats.

“Stay here,” she demanded, the growl in her voice a dead give away that she was losing control, and Zennon nodded, her olive skin looking pale beneath the blood spatter as Neah marched out of the room with the sword in hand.

The hall was empty and Neah opened each door on the landing in turn to check for further intruders.

In the third bedroom she found the guards, all dead.

Then she turned to face the bannister that overlooked the grand entrance to the house.

Neah would have used it herself if her senses hadn’t alerted her to danger.

It looked untouched, no signs of a struggle, so the assassins must have taken the guards by surprise.

Neah put the bedrooms to her back as she walked down the stairs, noting a smudge of blood on the white marble floor that she hadn’t been able to see from up high. The drawing room was directly to her right, so Neah checked inside and found it empty before moving on to the adjoining lounge.

She focused, standing still and tasting the air with the tip of her tongue as she listened for heartbeats and movement but found none. Still, she checked the rest of the rooms opposite and ventured down into the kitchens and wine cellar and found no trace of further intruders.

Adrenaline fading, she made her way back to Zennon and found her dragging the assassins into a tidy pile in the center of the room and glaring at the large bloody stain on an otherwise pristine rug.

“No sign of anyone.”

“The guards?”

“Dead.”

Zennon nodded, like she’d expected as much, and Neah stretched out her tired muscles. “How did you know they were coming?”

She sat down on the ruined coverlet and shook her head. “I didn’t. I was on the way to see the king but decided to stop in to give you a message for my father in case I didn’t make it.”

Zennon’s eyes widened. “I?—”

“I’ll tell you all about it, but first—why would someone send four assassins after you?”

“They didn’t follow you?”

Neah shook her head. “They were here before me.”

“I honestly don’t know, then. Nothing new has happened, it's been surprisingly quiet. I haven’t heard anything from Jamison in weeks.”

It didn’t make sense.

“Neah—”

A faint noise tickled her senses and Neah pressed a finger to her lips. Zennon fell silent, her face still paler than usual as blood dried in the long lengths of her dark hair.

“Someone’s coming,” she murmured and Zennon stood. They walked to the window where Neah had entered and she relaxed minutely as she recognised the crest on the silver uniform below. “The king’s guards. Why would they be here for you?”

Zennon bit her lip. “I don’t know. Something is definitely—What are you doing?”

“Hiding,” she said, peering into the walk-in closet space. “I don’t want anyone to know I was here. Not before my father does.”

“But—”

Neah doubled back and squeezed Zennon. “I’m glad you’re okay.” The guards below knocked at the door and voices called out when there was no response. “Do whatever they ask of you and I’ll find you later.”

She hesitated but nodded and Neah darted into the closet, closing the door behind her and crouching down to peer through the slats in the bottom of the door as the first of the king’s guard reached the top of the stairs.

“Lady Zennon Darke?”

“In here,” Zennon called, voice shaking convincingly, and it wasn’t until Neah took in the destruction of the room and the bodies piled up that she considered her friend may not have been acting.

“Lady, are you—” The guard halted as he took in the scene and Neah was relieved to see his eyes were a human blue.

He strode across to her within seconds and bowed crisply.

“My Lady, I’ve been directed by the king to request your presence at the palace.

It seems our enemies got here first. Are you injured at all? ”

Zennon shook her head and leaned against the post of her bed. “The blood—it’s not mine.”

The guard ran his eyes over her small form and looked impressed, understandable given the carnage. “Will you allow us to escort you to the king?”

The king. What did he want with Zennon?

“Of course.” She strode toward Neah’s hiding place and Neah backed away from the door, handing Zennon her cloak and a pair of boots when she reached inside.

Their eyes met for a moment and Neah nodded reassuringly.

She’d give the guards a head start and follow Zennon in the morning.

Whatever was going on here was bigger than she could have anticipated.