Black Reign

Astryd

The Sayaadi complex greets us with a solemn air. Dust particles shine in Maldara's nourishing light, but even they are scarce. Afraid too that perhaps the fled whatever waits for us inside. Whatever news, person—or lack there of. Another attack could have happened while we were gone. Could another assassin have died? Or the Dinshei spotted somewhere close?

The archers are still in the treetops now behind us, eyes trained on the road. More lay in the long balcony on the complex's first floor, every arrow drawn and trained at us out of nothing but caution.

We stand a metre from the steps when the great doors are pulled open by two of my spies dressed in all black. Four assassins emerge. The first pair flaunt the Sayaadi ivory and gold, the remaining—in a leas frivolous manner—do so with a crimson-trimmed white.

The twin guilds.

Asura. Auria.

The Sayaadi stop on the last step, swish their cloaks around them in a flourish and descend to one knee, heads bowed. The others follow suit on the first.

From the darkness between the doors emerges, side by side, my Master, and none other than the Maestra of Citali's guild.

We kneel as they descend and I find my eyes beginning to search for Solandis' Maestra. She does not show. Odd, since the Maestras of the twin guilds are sisters, inseparable since birth much like their guilds. The strongest of allies, sisters through blood and soul. Nothing could tear them apart, not even Maldara Herself.

The Maestra of the Asura is not nearly as stunning as her heiress. Her face is long and lumpy, an eyelid permanently swollen half-shut. A jagged, red scar connects the edge of her left eye with the corner of her mouth and her eyes are bloodshot. Somewhere off to my right, Citali swallows.

"Rise." Speaks the maestra in a flat, almost bored tone. Her eyes roam over us. I feel the burning ferocity of her gaze as it lands on each heir and heiress alike apart from her own. Even Solandis, her sisters' heiress, doesn't recieve the same love given to Citali.

My master speaks. "Maestra Darciana brings news."

Maestra Darciana starts: "I bring some samples for your Sayaadi poison masters, but not much needs the concerns of all the heirs—" her eyes narrow on Citali, "—merely one."

Citali's throat bobs. She raises her head but does not meet her maestra's eyes. "I am at your disposal, my lady."

Darciana lifts her chin, turns to my master, "I will hold a private discussion in your study. I thank you for your accommodation." With that she gestures Citali to follow and disappears into the dimly lit entrance hall.

"At ease," says my master. We rise, Veradis even stretches his arms before him. "A debriefing, twenty minutes, dining hall. Astryd's sentries will escort you to your rooms. They connect with the rooms of the assassins you brought upon arrival. I want you all there."

#

When Citali had not appeared for the debriefing in the dining hall Master had let us go, postponed the meeting for whenever Citali emerges. He had left for the throne room and instructed us not to near his study. I had listened for as long as I could, strolling around in search for my sentries, Ferran or Amadrya. The latter two were below grounds conversing with the other heirs' seconds and thirds with a large bottle of ale between them while my sentries still stood by the courtyard gates where the Dracaeon assassins' blood was still marred against the iron spikes. They had dragged a dozen prisoners in chains—guild betrayers, royal guards, ex-mercenaries and spies—and had them cleaning the metal. I had watched for at least ten minutes before walking back into my complex.