From Iron and Ruin

Lethal right-hand.

Chapter 30: Lethal Right-Hand.

"An assassin?" I breathed. "Should I be flattered, or afraid?"

"Afraid." The figure in black held his weapon like he knew how to wield. He stood like someone who knew how to fight. This wasn't some fanatic who had somehow wormed his way into Adotlan to kill me. This was someone whose life's job was to kill.

There was no grand speech, nor a lofty explanation. Instead, the figure sprinted for me.

I hurled my near empty mug of tea at him, before reaching instinctively for my waist. My fingers skimmed the soft fabric of my dressing gown.

Asha'da.

The knife cut towards my face. I blocked, arms braced to throw away the attack.

I needed a weapon. Quick.

Magic slugged down my veins. I ducked again. The night-gown was heavy from my hips, the dressing-gown cumbersome. Nothing like my usual fighting leathers.

Silver sparked in my hands, but the assassin was on top of me again before I could ground my feet and cast. The blade passed my arm by mere centimetres. I grabbed the heavy cloth of the curtain and snapped it outwards.

A plume of heavy dust rose.

It tickled my nose. I retreated again, centring myself. Magic curled around my hand, a slow sluggish thing that I barely recognised.

The assassin tottered away from the dust, sneezing. His eyes, visible only through the slit in the fabric of his cowl, fell on me again.

A cast burst from my hand and the assassin dove to avoid a torrent of sharp ice. The shards broke, scattering ice across the floors. Lethal casts cut out from my silvered palms but the assassin was as quick as I was – even quicker.

Their breathing was harsh. I swallowed, feeling the sudden weight of my tongue. The sweetness of my tea was still there, lingering.

A cast sent him tumbling back down the hall. His hand flew to his thigh – to the blade strapped there. He threw it, precise and lethal. It passed my face by centimetres, past the heavy weight of my braid.

"So quick on your feet." His breathing was ragged. He advanced again.

My attention cut to the windows and the rain lashing against it. Something was wrong, but I couldn't quite get a handle on it. Which meant I needed to handle this as quickly as possible.

Wind picked the edges of my night-gown and I shattered the wind inwards, a shield rising on my exposed side. It was a symphony of casting, protecting, drawing, attacking all at once. Wind howled in with the broken glass and I sucked in a breath, drawing it to me.

My clothes whipped harder around me.

I redirected it – a torrent of the night's wind, rain and glass shards ploughing into the assailant. He flew backwards, his body bending like a bow.

Bones cracked when he slapped against the ground, several metres back.

Behind me, footsteps echoed. A young servant, a chubby faced lad, rounded the corner. "Seeker!"

"We've had an intruder," My chest heaved and I turned towards him partially. "I need you to alert the guards."

The servant straightened, trembling. "I will escort you to safety Seek –"

The assassin's leg, which had been broken to the degree that his ankle rested by his mouth, began to twitch.

He groaned low in his throat, shuddering.