An Assassin's Vow | A Beloved Novel

Chapter 16

His meeting with the informant clearly over, Tal crept out of the dungeon, having to resort to creeping through the shadows without his torch when he came across the two guards stationed a couple hundred feet from the door. He held his breath, relieved that they were both a little too invested in their wine to notice the door crack open and for Tal to slip out.

The outside guards weren't there. Tal left the lower level, climbing the stairs two at a time to the Prince's chambers where Devan was being checked by the royal physician—a thin, wrinkly man by the name of Alvar.

Alvar straightened from his hunched over position, dropping his finger from in front of Devan's eyes. "You appear to be fine, Your Highness."

Nearby, Aubrie stood beside the two guards who had been stationed outside the dungeon. She shook her head. "Honestly, Devan. You fainted?"

Devan glared at her. "Fainting is reserved for young ladies such as yourself, dear sister. I believe the term for me is passed out."

"Same difference," Aubrie said, smirking. "You fainted."

Alvar shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with your brother, my dear. No sign that he might have passed out. Just to be safe, I recommend that you rest for the remainder of the day, Your Highness."

Devan nodded. "Thank you, Alvar." He gestured for Tal to come closer as the guards and the physician left the room. "Aubrie, you can go, too, you know."

"Oh, no." She sat down in a chair by the fireplace, smiling. "I want to hear how Tal's conversation with our friendly assassin downstairs went."

Tal crossed his arms. "About as well as you can imagine."

Devan stood up from the bed. "What did she tell you?"

He sighed. "Only that the Dark King is someone you know personally. That was all she would tell me."

Aubrie narrowed her eyes. "Hold on... You were down there for that long and got nothing out of her."

Tal returned the glare. "My understanding is that assassins like her are trained to say nothing. If you think you can do better, then by all means, Princess, give it a try."

"Tal." Devan's tone was full of warning. "While my sister and I don't care for formalities, we will not tolerate disrespect. Mind your tone, please."

The assassin straightened, bowing his head apologetically. "Of course... I only meant that getting her to talk was difficult and that I didn't have much luck."

Devan raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Aubrie, on the other hand, stood up. "We should tell Father about this," she insisted. "He needs to know that the Dark King—and the assassin, too—is here in the castle and is someone close to you, Devan."

The Prince paced back and forth for a few paces, hands clasped behind his back. "That might alert them, though. Isn't it better to act like we know nothing? To draw the assassin and their client out?"

Aubrie crossed her arms. "Sure. So they can keep plotting your demise behind your back."

Devan shot her a look. "Aubrie—"

"Stop, Devan." She crossed the room to him. "I'm not just your sister, idiot. I have always been your counselor in stuff like this. Don't try and shut me out now or shoot down my ideas. At the very least, I feel we should take this to matter to Father. He knows best." She paused, watching Devan's eyes.

The Prince looked away from her, parting his lips. "What if it's time—"

She turned his face back to hers, her own features hardened with determination and absolution. "It's not. And you know it. One day... But not today. Not any day soon.

Tal watched the exchange, puzzled. Brother and sister seemed to have forgotten that he was there. Awkwardly, Tal cleared his throat, making the pair startle. "I'm not even going to pretend that I understand any of this. Your family freaks me out, to be honest."

Aubrie smiled faintly, amused. "That's my brother's department, unfortunately. And until he's ready to reveal more—"

"You're right, Aubrie," Devan interrupted, putting an end to the conversation. "Let's go see Father."

* * *

Tal wasn't permitted in the throne room this time. So, with nothing else to do, he walked to the infirmary, taking it upon himself to go check on Chesed. The young man was still recovering from the injury he received while battling the witches in the forest.

He sat reclining on a cot, papers scattered across the blankets. Tal approached him, and Chesed rolled his eyes, keeping his attention on the paper in front of him.

"What do you want, Tal?" he asked, a bored tone lacing his words..

The assassin crossed his arms. "And to think that I was coming to check on you."

"You don't like me, and the feeling is mutual. So why bother?" Chesed glanced up at him.

"Devan is currently meeting with the king. I had nothing else to do. And seeing as how you suffered a horrible injury during our fight in the forest and we had declared a truce, I thought I'd be a good person and come check on you."

Chesed glared at him. "Ha, ha. Very funny."

Tal shrugged, pulling a chair closer to the cot and sat down. "For someone who agreed to a truce, you're still extremely hostile."

"What did you expect? That I would warm up to you immediately and that we would be the best of friends?" He snorted. "I'm not Devan, Tal. I have no desire to be friends with other people."

"How do you get girls with that charming attitude of yours?" Tal tilted his head, smirking. "Must be a sad, lonely life you're living."

Chesed glared, yet again, at the assassin. And Tal wondered, briefly, if he ever had any other sort of reaction. "You're not all that clever, Tal."

"And yet you have nothing else to say. I'd take that as a win," he said.

Chesed growled low in his throat. "If Alvar hadn't put me on bedrest, I'd—"

"What?" Tal interrupted, tilting his head. "Challenge me to a fight? Drag me to the Prince and complain? Please." He rolled his eyes. "Surely you can make better threats than those, Chesed."

The Prince's best friend clenched his hands into fists, unknowingly crumpling up the paper he'd been reading. "Don't tempt me. I can think of quite a number of ways to dispose of you. And all of them would bring me great pleasure."

Tal stood up. "Oh, I'm sure." He stretched his arms over his head. "Well... If you have no interesting insults or threats for me today, I think I'll leave now. Glad to see your wound has only worsened your usual pleasant mood, Chesed. Take care."

He sauntered out of the infirmary before Chesed could respond. He headed down the halls to one of the exits, pleased with himself. It was about time he'd told Chesed off. And with Devan not around to stop him from finally speaking his mind, he was able to say—and torment—Chesed however he pleased.

Perhaps he was being rather childish about the whole situation, but he'd had enough with Chesed and his attitude. Sure, Tal was a nobody who'd only been granted knighthood because of Devan's fondness for him, but that didn't mean that Chesed needed to be so stuck up and arrogant. Besides, hadn't Devan said that Tal wa shis other best friend, too? Not that the assassin particularly wanted to be his friend in the first place. But at the very least, he'd hoped that Chesed would leave him alone.

But what's done is done. He expressed his frustrations well enough for now. And if there were consequences, he'd face it eventually. Though he didn't doubt that there would be repercussions, especially if Chesed said something to Devan.

Tal nodded to a passing group of knights; they returned the greeting before resuming their conversation. Their footsteps faded as Tal turned a corner, nearly crashing into Kalvir. The young man grinned, grabbing Tal by the shoulders.

"I was looking for you!"

Tal made a face at Kalvir's enthusiasm, shrugging off his touch. "Why? Is something going on?"

Kalvir stepped back, gesturing over his shoulder in the direction he'd come from. "Devan just told me that he needed to see you. It's about a party."