Secrets of the Crown Assassins

15

ARIELLE

The streets of Chicago were a mess.

Well, they were always a mess, but now they're a chaotic mess.

I kept my head down in case someone on this crowded street recognized me. It still smelled horrible, though now the stench of a thousand sweaty peasants pressed together added to the city mix. The chilly gust did nothing to cool down the crowd from the sun's beating glare.

I kept my eyes open, scanning the crowd, looking for signs of another attack. Last time I was foolish enough to think we were invincible, that we could just walk through the streets and no one would harm us. At least Xavier had enough sense to look around, though he was still too late. Now, I didn't even have him. I could handle mobs and foot-soldiers just fine, but I was helpless against stealthy attacks and bombings.

Still, I didn't have another option. I needed to talk to her and I wasn't going to drag another person along with me just to get them killed again. I would accomplish my goal and I would live to tell the tale.

Side-stepping a running child, I looked up. The bar was just down the street, its sign hanging at a precarious angle. It was only afternoon, but people were already flowing in and out its doors, and I was sure my sister was one of them. She would've heard about the news of the Queens by now and from the drinking habit I witnessed in her home a week ago, if she had even an ounce of affection left for us, she would've headed straight for the bar.

I continued down the street, passing a crowd grouped around one person. He was standing on a stool, his head craned up to read the large screens hanging high behind a guarded visor. The building must've been a news outpost. He recited the words scrolling down the screen out loud for the illiterate Streeters listening to him.

The newsreel switched to an image of my family and Xavier's in the throne room, posed around our fathers as they sat on their thrones. I recognized the image. As part of an unofficial Royal tradition, we always took pictures after we returned from Evandor Prep for the year. The best one would be sent out to the general public while the rest were hung around the palace, wherever we chose.

Realizing that anyone could turn around and recognize my face as the one hanging right in front of them, I quickly dropped my eyes back to the ground and quickened my pace.

At the sight of our image, the Streeter crowd booed and shouted their profane words, one even throwing a bottle up at the visor. I didn't dare look back up, but I listened to the announcer's words.

"The Kingston Queen has been officially declared dead."

The announcer continued, but his words were drowned out by the cheers and shouting.

"They fucking offed her!"

"Finally got a taste of their own damn medicine!"

"The bitch is dead!"

"Who rules who now?"

"Someone bring me a damn Raven. I'll lick their fucking boots clean."

I clenched my jaw and balled my fists, trying my best to not let the resentment show. Who did they think they were? They spent their time in this dump blaming everything but themselves for still being here. Xavier's mother was better than every single one of them and they didn't deserve to utter a word about her.

I repeated these words in my mind to keep me moving, because, if I stopped walking for even a second, I wouldn't be able to stop myself slicing every one of their heads and letting the streets run with blood.

The crowd quieted just in time to hear the tail end of the announcer's words.

"Assassins from all over the nation are gathering at Cressida for the funeral later this evening. The Royal family themselves, however, have remained silent since the bombing as they mourn the death of a loved one."