𝔸 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕎𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕙 (Book 2)

Thirty-Four

I snorted, "I should expect nothing less from a spymaster."

    I thought I'd evaded this conversation for a moment. Thought I'd be spared from the looks they were now giving me. The table was quiet as it was before while they looked at me.

    My past was one of the things I loathed most in the world. The thing that took over my thoughts. Haunted my dreams. Made me sick to my stomach.

   And here I was, Danika Archeron, the White Death, Killer of the people, about to spill my guts to a bunch of people I didn't know. Stijn would throw a fit.

    Maybe it was an ember of rebellion in me. Or the fact that I likely owed Rhysand an explantation for most everything I've done since he'd met me. Maybe It was because I was so damn tired that my inhibitions had been lowered to the ground. Or maybe...maybe it was because these people had been through so much, and some small part of me thought they might understand.

    "My story is very much different from my sisters." I said and everyone around the table listened, "I was adopted when I was too young to remember—it had been my father's decision. My Mother always despised me, I never really knew why." I sighed, leaning back in my chair as I felt like crawling from my skin. I'd never had to talk about my past like this before aside from the conversation I'd shared with Feyre. And even then I'd only told her the bare minimum.

    My eyes never roamed from the wine I swirled around in my hand, "I was eight when she told me that I was being sent off to a new school. That I wasn't meant to tell my sisters because they'd get jealous." A smile played on my lips at the irony. "I got there, and it was not a new school, that's for sure." memories surfaced, playing in my mind and I cleared my throat, shifting in my seat as I finally looked up at the table.

    "I found out that my mother had sold me to an elite organization that trained people to fight. Become soldiers. Assassins. Killers." I drawled in an attempt to mask how uncomfortable I was with the topic, "She sold my freedom." yet another vacant feeling was felt in my soul, "I spent two years at that academy, beaten and bloodied—tortured on occasion. Taught to do the things they did to us more brutally before a kill. They'd sell us off to people sometimes, for other things." My eyes grew emotionless. Distant. As all life faded from me, "The organization was run by High Fae, likely older than most of you."

    I focused myself again as my thoughts drifted, "There were tiers there; novice, trainee, but no name for the top tier—though, those of us who were there called it hell." I raised my chin, "I was the youngest person in their ranks to ever complete my training."

     I snorted, "After I'd completed what they'd asked of me I was allowed to return home, so long as I continued working in their ranks. I came home to find that my mother had died and my family had fallen into poverty. It was by no means a happy homecoming, to say the least." I felt numb as I spoke, "I was hired by the organization for a number of things ranging from assassinations to wars. It got us barely enough money to stay alive even as I killed myself for it."

    The hard part. "Many of my...colleagues were killed as I grew up. Some because of the tasks we were forced to perform to make it past training, others because of what we were hired for. It wasn't the most cheerful up bringing, but I lived." I finished.

    I finally looked around at the table. There was more, so much more. But I didn't these people—nor did I trust them enough to share the rest. The things even Feyre didn't know.

I shrugged, sipping from my wine as I finished my story. It was Mor who said, "You're a survivor," I looked at her, "Both of you." she added.

    I nodded before I looked at Amren, "It's how I know the Holy Tongue. The organization—the Flame is...old." I cringed.

    Cassian spoke too, "You know how to fight?"

    "Probably better than you." I challenged in an attempt to lighten the air.

    Cassian's grin was near-feral, "Well, I guess we'll have to test that theory, won't we?"

    "Oh, no doubt." I was so thoroughly going to enjoy that.

    My eyes found Azriel's and he dipped his head, "We are with you." An odd thing to say, but for some reason, the words resonated with me. And for a moment, I didn't feel so alone. Didn't feel like I bore the chains of death.

    Through the bond in my hand, I could have sworn I caught a glimmer of pride. Along with some surprise.

    I looked at Rhysand, noting the calm but lethal lines of his face. His eyes met with mine and I spoke slowly, "I accept your offer. I'll work with you and your court." I spared a glance at my sister, "Though I won't speak for Feyre."

    My sister debated before nodding—albeit a bit hesitantly, "I'll do it, too." was all she cared to say.

    "Good," Rhys merely replied even as the others raised their brows. Oh, they most definitely didn't know this was a trial dinner. "Because we start tomorrow."

    "Is there news?" I questioned, getting into the headspace of who I used to be.

    Rhys raised his hands, interlacing them on the table as he leaned forward. "Because the King of Hybern is indeed about to launch a war, and he wants to resurrect Jurian to do it."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A/N: Short one for u guysss. Yall are so lucky I love spoiling youuuuu. dw I'll always be ur sugar mommy