Chapter 10

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Sam

A princess! That was something he never could have imagined. He had always known, deep down, that Gweny-Nehemia came from wealth—her stories often hinted at a life of luxury. But royalty? That was a different level entirely. As Sam walked home, his mind churned with the revelation. He couldn't say he was angry with her; after all, he hadn't been entirely honest with her either. His secret was darker—he had killed people for money, while her secret could cost her life.

He decided he would talk to her tomorrow, tell her the truth about who he really was, why he was here, and his greatest shame: leaving Celeana to rot in Endovier. He didn't know if she would understand, but it would be better than continuing a relationship built on lies. Sam kept rehearsing the conversation in his mind, thinking about how to make her understand that his upbringing had shaped him into an assassin. It was how his mother had ensured he wouldn't end up like her—a courtesan.

The next day, when Sam arrived at the shop, Erendr was already there, sitting by his usual chair near the fire. The old man looked paler than usual, and though he rose to greet Sam, his movements were slow and labored. Sam noticed something he hadn't before: over the past few weeks, Erendr had been growing more tired, moving less with each passing day. Sam realized, with a pang of guilt, that he had been so consumed with thoughts of Nehemia that he hadn't noticed the man's decline. Erendr had been old when Sam first met him over a year ago, but now it was clear—he had hired Sam and Nehemia to have someone to take over when he was gone.

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