Assassin

1

Shay opened his eyes to the bright sun shining through his window. He groaned and rolled over, pulling the warm sheets with him. He didn't want to get up today. He felt like he could sleep forever. He closed his eyes. Maybe just a few more minutes.

Knock, knock.

His eyes shot open. Who was here so early in the morning? He looked over at the grandfather clock, the ticking a lullaby. It was eight in the morning. He let out an annoyed groan before he forced himself to throw the blankets off and get out of bed. He did a few hops from foot to foot when his bare feet touched the icy wood.

After putting on his black robe, he headed to the front door. More knocking came, this time more urgent and louder. He opened the door and found Faea crying on his doorstep.

"Oh, Shay, it's horrible!"

"What happened?"

"Lady Elizabeth was killed!"

"What?" he gasped.

His heart stopped. Elizabeth was dead? How? Who would do such a thing? She was so nice to everyone! Those awful green eyes entered his mind. What if he was the one who took her life?

He turned around and rushed to the armor he had in the sitting room. It was on a wooden mannequin that was faded with age. The leather armor had belonged to his father and had been adjusted to fit Shay.

He quickly put it on, feeling his heart shattering. His emotions were everywhere. Angry, sad, confused. He grabbed his sword and attached it to his hip before running out of the cabin. He headed to Elizabeth's house, hoping that she wasn't actually dead. That it was a horrible nightmare.

People were surrounding her door, crying, when he arrived. He stopped to catch his breath, not ready to face the gruesome scene that waited for him.

"My baby!" screamed her mother as she sat on her knees in the snow. Her husband held her, tears dripping down his cheeks.

The icy air stung his lungs as he caught his breath. He gripped the hilt of his sword before taking a breath and walking inside.

"She is in her room," called her father.

Shay's boots thumped softly on the wooden floor as he made his way to the stairs. He didn't want to see her. Not like this. He wanted to see her smiling face, hear her sweet voice.

He climbed the stairs slowly, listening for any sounds that someone may still be around. His heart roared in his ears as he felt an overwhelming sensation of hate towards whomever took her young life.

He stopped at her open bedroom door. There she lay, on the floor at the foot of the bed. Her chest was slashed open and she had a stab wound in her belly. Her throat was also slit. There was something else. Her bedspread was burned.

His gray eyes shifted to the blood that looked around her, soaking into the wood. Her face was frozen in horror and surprise. He began to shake with anger. How could someone kill such an innocent person? His best friend!

"I will find who did this, Elizabeth," he whispered.

He ran a hand through his short messy golden brown hair. He didn't know where to start. He did know the culprit though. That green-eyed man. There was no doubt. He was brutal, savage, and heartless. He did not care how his victims suffered.

But why her? What did she do? What did his parents do?

Questions created a whirlwind in his mind. He needed to get her out of here, prepare her for her funeral. He walked over to her body and knelt. He brushed his hand over her face, closing her eyes.