Armor of Deceit

Chapter 1

Clang.

My chest is heaving as I gracefully run through the risky obstacles, hitting the same patch of metal on the embrasure. Every breath of the fresh, cold breeze stings my lungs. I notch another arrow in a quick movement, successfully dodging rows of spikes.

Woosh.

My arrow flies through the open bailey and hits the metal, splitting through one of the first arrows. I shoot a few more and before I know it, my quiver is empty of my beautifully crafted arrows, and I'm on my knees, breathing heavily.

My father would be pleased by this sight, for I was to be the finest assassin, he would say. I try to steady my breathing when I hear the soft slam of a closing door.

I lift my head, wishing away whoever was here to witness me at my worst, making my head ache from the sudden movement. My vision sharpens, revealing a tall raven haired man; It was Jarin. My best friend and the King's messenger.

I immediately stand up, ignoring the pain that shoots throughout my body. Jarin gives me a worried look when I start to limp towards him and he stops me. Instead, he walks to me and that's when I notice he doesn't have any letters in his hands.

"Jarin," I give away my pain when my voice comes out strangled."My lady," he extends his hand out and I gladly take it. He slides his hand around my waist, letting me put my weight on him. Never in my life have I let someone see me so weak, so broken. You are a Revière, and Revière's never show weakness, my father's words ring in my ears.

The walk to the nearest garden bench felt like a great distance and once we're finally seated, Jarin speaks softly,"You're being too hard on yourself, Arabella." I can hear the quiet gentleness in his voice when he says my name. He takes my hand and I know he's looking at me but I refuse to look into his deep blue eyes, they hold a fire I am too stubborn to face.

I knew I was torturing myself, but my next quest is by far my greatest. It terrifies me to the point of shaking in my sleep. It's not like my other quests of assassinating a thief, one mistake and I'm done for. I cannot let the King down, or my father. My father was the master of all assassins, and now that title is brought upon my name after his retirement.

Jarin gently squeezes my hand, like he always does when he knows I'm troubled. I finally look up at him, his features are sympathetic yet heavy. I can tell that his message is weighing him down and I close my eyes, waiting for him to say it.

"The king requests your presence, immediately."