Challenger of Fate

Chapter 9

Azalea's heart thundered in her chest as she sat at the dinner table, maintaining a demeanor of calmness like she was always trained to. She stole glances at a finely dressed Azar, who stood beside Sebastian, hand on hand, the portrait of an ever obedient and loyal servant. If they were to fail in tonight's mission, it would be over for them—and for the human race.

"You haven't touched your food," Sebastian swallowed, and Azalea stiffened. The vampire sliced up another piece of his roasted chicken. "Is it not to your liking?"

"I...No, it smells delicious, I just do not have the appetite for it," she smiled. The aroma of the roasted chicken was indeed delicious, but she tended not to eat before a big assignment or contract, and this was the hugest she ever had.

Sebastian nodded, spearing the piece of chicken with his fork, albeit aggressively, before lifting it to his mouth. He did not put it in his mouth as he turned to face her and asked, "Do you know how I win my wars, Azalea?"

"A good strategy?"

"The enemy," he answered, biting the chicken off his fork as he continued training his violet eyes on her.

"Weak enemies make for easy battles," she said, quoting a line from 'The Art of War'. Something was not right; she could feel it.

Sebastian however shook his head disappointedly, "No, my enemies carry strength like an ally. However, they all have one thing in common. Do you know what, Azar?" He asked, turning to the other human in the room.

"I do not, my lord," he said solemnly.

"They underestimate me," Sebastian whipped his face back to hers, a hint of menace ringing in his voice. Azar shifted on his feet, and she reached for the hidden dagger strapped to her thigh. "That is why they fail. Alas, with a little more wit, they would've succeeded in bringing me down."

"Long live the king," Azar cheered from beside Sebastian. The vampire lifted his goblet of wine and Azalea reached for hers lifting it too before their two cups clinked.

"Drink," he beamed. "For tonight we relish in our victories and the defeat of our enemies. Drink, for tonight we celebrate our new general and the victories she will bring us."

Azalea forced a tight smile and drained her goblet, hoping the wine would wash away the edge she felt, calming her down. Her grey eyes slid to the tense frame of Azar, as if he too knew that something was not right.

"You know what the secret to winning a war is, general?" Sebastian placed his goblet down. The title hung heavy in the air. "It is not to have strength in numbers or power in your forces. It is to strike when your enemy least expects it."

Sebastian's violet eyes sparked, and pain shot through her head. Azalea grabbed her throbbing head as her vision doubled, sinking back into her chair with a groan. The room spun and she felt the goblet of red wine slip from her grip and clatter to the floor, painting the stone a crimson color.

Fool, her assassin self came back to chide her. There had been poison in the wine. No, not poison. She would've smelled the poison beforehand—unless it was something she had no knowledge of. Azalea felt her strength drain, her body weakening by the second. Her eyes saw two of the vampire lord, darkly chuckling at her weakened state.

"Did you mistake me for a fool?" he mocked. "Did you not think I would sniff the lie on you?"

The assassins' lips parted but only a silent moan escaped them, her voice failed her. She closed her mouth and swallowed thickly before stilling. Cold sweat broke out across her forehead as she tasted the tinge of iron on her tongue. Breathing became difficult as she realized she had not been drugged, rather she was forced to drink a goblet of blood. Sebastian's blood. And now she was transitioning.