The Velvet Sheath

Formalities

"How many have you found?"

My anticipation was almost enough for me to lose control over my breathing, but years of training and survival instincts restrained me back into silence. My perch, nearly a hundred feet in the air, was a thick but narrow beam that stretched the length of the throne room. I dared not move a muscle. The beam was strong, but I couldn't risk it making any noise under unseasoned weight.

"We've found three of the seven you ask for..."

"You've had two rotations of the moon, Chief."  The king placed his crown on the throne, wearing nothing but dueling clothes. Unlike his father, he was never one for royal garb - he much preferred battle clothes similar to his guards. "Why have you not found a few people?"

"Well, they are trained to not be found, sire." The chief crossed his arms. The king fumed. "We're doing the best we can."

"Who are left?"

"We haven't found Venom, Magímeo, Fuegolita, or Déluna."

Hearing those in royal garb speak my title sent shivers down my spine. Déluna. No one knew it was my last name, nor did anyone need to know - but the memories it provoked were always unwelcomed. 

"But they're aware of the situation, yes?" The king mused, placing his crown to the side and leaning back in his throne. The guards around the sides of the room squirmed uncomfortably, and I resisted the urge to chuckle at their discomfort. 

"We've made it as clear as possible, sire."

"You're impossible." 

The king, barely of age, displayed the stress of a man three times his age. I knew he was only a few years my senior, me being of age with the coming of the next full moon, but I never felt the similarities until that moment.

The guards were silent, the Chief standing stock still. 

"Leave me." He waved his hand dismissively. "All of you. Go."

They awkwardly shuffled out. 

This was the chance I had been waiting for, perched in the rafters of the room for hours on end. Gripping the edge of the beam with my gloved hands, only my fingertips bare, I launched myself backward. The beam creaked as I swung forward, rolling in the air to wrap my cloak around my body so that my legs were free for the landing nearly a hundred feet down. The shock of the landing, absorbed by my immediate collapse into a roll, helped propel me back up until I was standing. A thin wisp of air that blew my hair as I stood gave me the instinct I needed to grab my short sword, always handy at my side, to parry the blow the king drove toward my head.

We stood for a moment, his longsword and my short sword in a tight embrace, and he studied my calm expression. Though I didn't show it, his reflex (less than a second of time) was rather impressive. 

"What business do you have here, imposter?" He snarled, pushing harder on my blade. I kept my sword still, but did not push back. 

"I am not here to fight, your majesty." I sniffed. Ducking under the weight, I rolled around him, sheathing my sword as I spiraled on the ground, and I rolled up behind him (a few more feet away this time) and he held his sword at ready, but didn't advance. I rolled my eyes. 

"Edgy, aren't we?" I clucked my tongue before yawning, remembering the lack of sleep I had. He raised his eyebrows. "It's alright, I don't blame you. The security here is impressive - though you have some dangerous gaps."

"Who are you, exactly?" He lowered his sword slightly, but the whitening of his knuckles as he tightened his grip didn't escape my notice. I threw my arm out for a handshake. 

"The name's Déluna." I smirked, eyes not leaving his. A moment of fear flashed through them before they narrowed. 

"Déluna..." He mused, sheathing his sword. To my surprise, he shook my hand. His grip, firm and deliberate, was a rival to mine. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise." I narrowed my eyes. Who lowered their guard in the presence of a known assassin?'

"I've been waiting to meet you, Déluna..." The king sat on the steps up to his throne, folding his hands together. "I'm sure you are well aware of the competition."

"It's a legend, sire." I replied dully. 

He chuckled, much to my annoyance. "Well, Déluna, are you willing to participate?"

"I'm here to enter." I folded my arms, feeling the anger rise. "I thought if I was going to risk death to spend the rest of my life doing your dirty work I ought to meet you first."

Nearly making me jump, he laughed. "Ah, it's good to have a lighter presence in the castle for once." He smiled, studying me. "Tell me...do you have a name?"

"Déluna." I answered shortly. He nodded curtly, eyes flashing with curiosity but wisdom knowing not to push it. 

"Let me ask you something, Déluna." He stood, beginning to pace. "Why are you willing to be the Royal Assassin?"

The name itself swelled in my chest. "This is all I ever knew, sire." I replied quietly. "I didn't chose this life, I was thrown into it, and to be able to what I was taught to do without fear of punishment would be like drinking water in a drought."

The king nodded, eyes wide in curiosity. "Do you want to know more about the competition?"

"More than you know." I replied dryly. He laughed again. 

"Alright, Déluna." He smirked. "My father had a sheath made of Velvet. This possession will be passed around from person to person in the kingdom and the first person to bring it to me will be appointed the Royal Assassin."

My eyes narrowed. "That seems too simple."

"That's because there's a few middle steps." His eyes twinkled. "There will be duels held each night, all without weapons. All seven of the assassins will be dueling at the same time until one loses consciousness, in which the duel will end. If the Velvet Sheath isn't found before the last duel between the remaining two contestants, the winner of that duel will be the Royal Assassin."

I frowned. "If you get knocked out are you disqualified?" 

"You can no longer duel, but you can still look for the Velvet Sheath." 

"Interesting." I mused, twirling my violet hair around my fingers. He chuckled. "You're awfully lighthearted." I commented.

He shrugged. "I guess the age and the weariness of the job hasn't quite caught up with me yet."

"Pray it never does, sire." I groaned, which made him laugh again. 

"No staff in this castle are lighthearted..." He sighed, looking wistfully out the large windows. 

"They must be under a lot of pressure as you learn your duties, if you don't mind me pointing out, sire." I suggested. He waved me off.

"Call me Lincoln."

A jolt went through my chest that I quickly swallowed. "Are you sure, sire? The most informal those that aren't your family are supposed to get is King Ariondale -"

"Please, Déluna, call me Lincoln." His dark brown eyes pierced my gaze, and for the first time I was unsure of how to respond. His dark stubble and messy hair were almost as distracting as his eyes. 

Focus.

"Do you get this familiar with all of your contestants?" I felt myself say, and as I bit my tongue, wishing the words back into my mouth, he snorted. 

"No, of course not, they're disgusting." He cringed. "And creepy." 

"And I'm not?"

Before he could respond, the floor under our feet shook with a thunderous crash, and as our gazes locked with understanding and we lept onto our feet, screams began to echo through the palace.