The Lady and the Assassin - Sample - OUT NOW!

Prologue

Warric closed his knee-length coat against the chilled wind sweeping across the campsite as it stirred up smoke, reignited embers, and lifted the lingering stench of gunpowder. The sun set on another day with the skirmish unresolved. Soldiers, in dark-blue and gold uniforms, gathered around small fires. Great cannons, mounted on formidable wagons, glowed red as they cooled from the day's barrage. Metallic gyros bobbed, tiny white lights flickering on each ball—no doubt soldiers communicating with loved ones.

How the gyros worked wasn't something Warric could wrap his mind around. Slowly, weird contraptions powered by magic had begun to form part of his life. He grimaced and fingered the pouch of iron balls hanging off his belt alongside a pistol. A dagger or an arrow was silent and the best way to assassinate. No matter his skill, he couldn't beat the speed of a pistol.

General Jacut Devenmere of Bennedor strode out of the tent, then paused to run his hazel gaze over the campsite while donning calfskin gloves. His dark-blue coat piped in gold flickered in the wind. He glanced at Warric, tossed his blond hair off his temple, and grinned. "He is in a foul mood this night, Assassin."

"Perhaps I will soon find out why." Warric smirked.

"Aye, he seems...troubled. I head northwest to tackle the Brivela." Jacut grimaced.

Warric offered a nod in condolence. "A tiresome tribe and quite barbaric in their practices."

"Or so I have heard." Jacut stomped his foot, shaking a fleck of mud off the polished leather. "Imagine claiming a woman as wife by stealing her?" He scoffed. "There have been a few I wished I could silence but none worthy of a good kidnapping."

Warric chuckled. The idea of stealing a woman to wed was ludicrous when most gave out their favors for a kind word. "Are they not all too much effort?"

"Spoken like a man who has never known love." Jacut gazed at the unscalable stone wall as it snaked west for miles. "My sister is quite special. Mother and Father sacrificed much for her, and the little minx knows nothing of it." He squared his shoulders. "We pray she never learns the truth." He forced a smile after delivering that cryptic bit of information. After dusting his wide-brimmed hat in matching beige calfskin across his thigh, he marched off.

"Assassin." The voice, thick, educated, and filled with authority, belonged to Warric's lord, Baron Gregory of Kenningthain.

Only those in the baron's confidence knew Warric's true name. In private, the baron used it, but anywhere else, Warric was known as 'Assassin.' He flipped the tent flap back but halted. Awareness rippled across his skin, raising the hairs. Someone lurked, watched, their intentions ill.

A quick scan of those hovering nearby showed no one glancing in his direction. He ducked inside the massive tent, then let the flap fall, waiting a moment to ensure the guards didn't encroach. With a side glance, he located the baron and crossed the burgundy and periwinkle blue Eryssian rug to stand beside the war table. A detailed map sprawled across it, littered with iron figurines representing the wildemen from the north or the baron's soldiers.

While sucking air through his teeth, the baron ran a finger along the rim of a gold goblet. Warric remained still, expectant, patient for his lord to elaborate on why he'd been summoned. The wind shook the tent, yanking on its supports. From outside, the incessant murmur of camp life, along with sharp clashes of metal, penetrated the crackle of the fire pit inside the tent keeping the chill at bay. The magical flames fed on nothing. A standalone clock in gilded bronze ticked as each second passed. All this was noted in a cursory glance. Once he'd settled, he didn't shift, didn't focus anywhere but on Gregory's rugged face, half-hidden by a sculpted beard.

Yet, Warric's senses prickled.

The tent trembled with what he might have attributed to the gusts whipping across the campsite. Rolling his hand, gesturing to Gregory to talk, Warric cast out his magic—air and darkness. He searched for the void among the noise and dusky light.