Challenger of Fate

Chapter 7

Liar.

Liar, she screamed in her mind as she crumpled the letter in her hand. Azalea grabbed the hurt that came with his betrayal and forged it anew, turning it into a weapon like she was taught. Rage is the weapon she chose to turn the pain into.

"Why?" she asked no one in particular, gritting her teeth.

Was any of it real? His feelings for her? His treatments? Or did he fake them all too? All part of an act to gain her trust. Embarrassment flooded her at how gullible she was to have been fooled twice while he had no doubt laughed at her.

Azalea pushed her grief aside, there was no time for that and steeled herself into the deadly assassin she was. Unfeeling. Wise and calculating. Cautious and aware. Just like she was supposed to be from the very beginning.

Foolish girl, the voice in her came back to chide her and this time she didn't ignore it.

The assassin turned to Azar, eyeing the human with new suspicion. There was a reason he went against his master and showed her these, otherwise why sabotage what Sebastian had been working towards and plotting for what seemed to be months. Unless this was another ploy by the vampire king.

"Though my family served him for generations," Azar spoke, standing up. "I never accepted the position out of duty. I was merely keeping an eye on him because despite his kind demeanor, there was always something off about him."

"Did you know of this?" her voice was not hers; it was that of an interrogating assassin. Azalea's gaze dropped to the open chest.

"I may be someone he trusts most of his assets and plans with, but not everything," his brown eyes also dropped to the letters in the chest. "I had gathered bits and pieces of what he was scheming but it is only now that I see the big picture."

Azalea pocketed the crumbled letter. So, she was a pawn in Sebastian's game after all. The thought set her jaw tightening and she got the urge of storming out of the room and confront him, but she knew allowing rage to take over would lead to many unwitting choices. That, in turn, will lead to countless disasters. She had to remain level-headed.

"What is this grand plan of his?" she asked.

A shadow passed Azar's face as he turned to the chest and shut the lid, kneeling to click the lock back together, "I'm afraid that can't be discussed so openly, especially not in his study room."

She watched as Azar stood up, backing away to the door, before standing guard next to it, his hand neatly clasped behind his back.

"I suggest you sit back into your chair," he said calmly, but she sensed the warning that flared in his tone.

Azalea reached for her dagger, brushing a thumb against its hilt before she went and sat in her chair, lifting her wounded hand to see that the injury has healed. So many questions riddled her brain, many of which she was sure Azar could answer. But would he? Her eyes traveled to the servant pressed against the wall, his face blank of anything readable.

Seconds later, as she scrutinized the human's face, the door opened and a male with violet eyes stepped in. Shifting his gaze between the two in the room before beaming at his servant and companion. Or so he thinks.

"Ah, Azar," Sebastian greeted the man, earning a dip of the chin from Azar.

"He was keeping me 'safe'," Azalea explained, scowling at the servant. "Even though I insisted that I do not need protection."

"Ah, but you see," the vampire said, clasping a hand on Azar's shoulder. "This man is trained to handle a supernatural enemy. I personally trained him."