Blood and Betrayal

Chapter 3

Morning light filtered through the narrow window, casting pale beams across the damp walls of my room. I groaned as I stirred, my entire body protesting the movement. The pain from the previous night had settled deep into my muscles, a reminder of my defiance and the punishment that followed. Every breath felt like fire, but I forced myself to sit up, wincing as the motion pulled at the fresh wounds on my back.

I had to get out of this room, away from the suffocating walls that seemed to close in on me. Slowly, I dressed, pulling on a loose tunic that wouldn't aggravate the injuries too much, and then made my way outside.

The city was just beginning to wake, the early morning air cool and crisp. I avoided the main streets, sticking to the narrow alleys and hidden paths that led out of the crowded center. It took time, but eventually, I reached the outskirts where the stone and noise of the city gave way to fields and forests.

I headed toward a secluded meadow I had discovered long ago, hidden from prying eyes and far from the chaos of my daily life. The grass was wet with dew, the scent of earth and wildflowers filling the air as I stepped into the clearing. It was peaceful here, a rare slice of serenity in a world that knew only violence.

I sat down on a soft patch of grass, letting the stillness wash over me. For a moment, I allowed myself to forget the pain, the orders, the endless cycle of death. Instead, my thoughts drifted to memories I tried to keep buried deep—memories of my parents.

They had been different from the others in the city. My mother and father possessed something that most feared: magic. I had inherited it from them, a dangerous gift that I had learned to keep hidden. No one knew what I could do, and I intended to keep it that way. Magic was a death sentence in this kingdom, as my parents had learned all too well.

I closed my eyes, the memory of that day searing through my mind like a blade. I was only seven, but I remember every detail as if it happened yesterday. The day the guards came for us.

My parents had tried to run, but there was no escaping the king's orders. They were dragged into the city square, bound in chains, accused of practicing forbidden magic. The crowd had gathered, hungry for blood, their cries for justice mingling with the cold, heartless words of the king's decree.

I had been there, too, held back by a neighbor who had tried to shield me from the horror. But nothing could shield me from the sight of my parents being forced to their knees, the executioner's blade gleaming in the midday sun. I had screamed, tears streaming down my face, but it hadn't mattered. The guards ignored me, their eyes fixed on their duty.

And then, in one swift, merciless motion, the blade fell. The world had gone silent, the screams of the crowd fading into nothingness as I watched the heads of my parents roll across the stone ground. I could still see the vacant eyes of my mother, the lifeless face of my father, the blood that stained the stones.

That was the day my world ended. The day I learned what it meant to live in a kingdom that feared what it didn't understand. I had sworn on that day that I would survive, no matter the cost, and I had. But the cost had been steep.

I opened my eyes, the meadow before me now blurred with unshed tears. I had hidden my magic ever since, using the skills my parents had taught me to keep it secret. It was my weapon, my last line of defense, but also the most dangerous part of who I was. If my master or anyone else ever discovered the truth, I knew my fate would be sealed.

But for now, I was safe. For now, I was just Talia—the assassin, the obedient tool. No one needed to know about the power that simmered just beneath the surface, waiting for the day when I would have no choice but to unleash it.

I took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs, and slowly stood. The pain in my back was still there, a reminder of the previous night, but it was nothing compared to the pain of my past. I would carry that with me always.

And I would use it to fuel my survival.

Unfortunately the serenity of the meadow couldn't last. The world of soft grass and morning dew was a stark contrast to the harsh reality awaiting me back in the city. My back throbbed with every step as I retraced my path through the alleys, moving with the cautious grace of someone who couldn't afford to be noticed.

By the time I reached the old, nondescript building that served as the meeting place for the assassins, the sun had fully risen. The city was alive with the sound of vendors setting up their stalls and the murmur of people beginning their day. But within these walls, there was only darkness and silence—except for the whispers of death that lingered in every corner.

I pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. The air was thick and stale, the dim light from the high windows barely enough to cut through the shadows. I walked down the narrow hallway, the sound of my footsteps muffled by the worn carpet beneath me.

At the end of the hall, I reached the door to my master's chamber. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear the low murmur of voices inside. I hesitated for a moment, steeling myself for what I knew was coming, then pushed the door open and entered.

My master sat behind a massive oak desk, his dark eyes flicking up from the parchment he was studying as I entered the room. He was a tall man, with a lean, wiry frame that belied his strength. His face was a mask of cold indifference, but I knew better than to be deceived by his calm exterior. Malice simmered beneath the surface, always ready to lash out.

He smiled when he saw me—a cruel, mocking smile that sent a shiver down my spine. "Ah, Talia," he said, his voice smooth and icy. "You're looking... well, considering."

I remained silent, keeping my expression blank as I approached the desk. The pain in my back was a constant reminder of what he had done, but I refused to show any weakness. Not in front of him.

"You managed to drag yourself here, despite your... condition," he continued, leaning back in his chair. "Impressive. But then, you always have been stubborn, haven't you?"

I kept my gaze steady, refusing to rise to his bait. He enjoyed these games, enjoyed seeing how far he could push before I snapped. But I had learned long ago to bury my anger deep, to give him nothing to latch onto.

"Have you come for your orders, or do you need more time to lick your wounds?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I'm ready," I replied, my voice flat.

His smile widened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Good. Because I have a special assignment for you today. Something that will require your... unique skills."

I could feel his eyes on me, lingering on the bandages hidden beneath my tunic, on the way I held myself stiffly to avoid aggravating my injuries. He knew exactly what he had done to me, and he was relishing every moment of my discomfort.

"You'll be going back to the castle," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "There are still some loose ends to tie up. I want you to take care of them—cleanly, this time. No more... improvisation."

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral even as my stomach churned. The castle. The very place where I had disobeyed him and taken three lives instead of one. Going back there, knowing the risk, knowing that the guards might still be on high alert after the killings—it was a dangerous assignment. But I had no choice. Disobeying him again wasn't an option.

"And Talia," he added, his voice softening to a menacing whisper, "remember what happened last time you decided to think for yourself. I don't need to remind you of the consequences, do I?"

"No," I said quietly, the memory of the whip biting into my flesh still fresh in my mind. "You don't."

"Good," he said, leaning back in his chair once more. "Then go. And don't return until the job is done."

I turned and left the room without another word, my heart pounding in my chest. His orders were clear, but so was the underlying message: fail him again, and there would be no more warnings.

As I stepped back out into the sunlight, the city suddenly seemed colder, more hostile. The walls of the buildings felt as though they were closing in on me, the weight of the assignment pressing down like a physical force. But I would do what I had to, as I always did.

I was a tool, sharpened and honed for a single purpose. And until the day I could break free from my master's control, I would continue to obey, no matter how deep the wounds ran.