Eros

Men of Light and Shadow - 13

Gasper stood and stared at the black door. He wiped the cold fear from his face, breathed in deep and slow.

The Black Prince's door was ajar. It was his policy to always keep it open. Anyone may disturb the prince - at their own risk. Gasper realized his hands were shaking.

A soundless chuckle escaped his lips. What a wuss you are. Take a look at yourself. Fucking shaking, almost like that dumb ass who wet his pants when we came for him last week.

Gasper remembered cleaning up Georgie's remains after he faced the prince with failure to rob some carriage. The way poor Georgie went certainly wasn't a pleasant one. With a dagger wedged between every pair of ribs. 'Feathers' they called them. The prince's blades.

He wouldn't like a close introduction to their sort.

Maybe he could turn and walk away? Gather the money he managed to put aside and start a new life elsewhere.

Stupid, so stupid. Leaving the Syndicate meant leaving life. Gasper had his own share in tracking down and killing those who tried to escape.

What's done is done. He reached a sudden clarity. If I would die, it would surely be the gods' way to even out people I 'did'. With that thought in his mind, he swung the door open and stepped into the room.

The feather whirred before his eyes, a silvery glint slashing through the air. He heard the thud of it piercing into the wall, but stood where he was, frozen.

"Gasper!" Roman, or as he was more commonly known, the Black Prince, called from a plush armchair behind an ebony desk. Grasped by fear, Gasper turned his gaze across the room.

Roman's blonde hair was combed back, features clean shaven, sculpted in fine lines against light skin. Befitting his favored nickname, the suit he wore was both black and luxurious, tailored to his lithe figure.

But his visage of aristocratic glamor was thin. His lips were rosy, with almost feminine softness, and yet Gasper had never seen a smile as unnerving as theirs. And no matter how green were his eyes, he couldn't unsee their predatory stare.

"What have you come here for?" Roman asked, effortlessly balancing a feather at the tip of his finger. His voice was as smooth and serene as ever, but Gasper knew better than to let that mislead him. Everyone in the Syndicate knew the Black Prince never gets angry. Not even when he kills.

He is laughing then.

"Bad news, boss." Gasper clenched his muscles, forcing himself not to tremble. He couldn't afford to seem weak. He had to be hard – be the tough, cold-blooded thug the Black Prince would want in his service.

"Bad news?" Roman arched an eyebrow. "You know I am not fond of bad news." He mused, flipping the feather to a swift spin in the air, and into his grasp.

"'Fraid so, Boss." Gasper spoke quickly, not risking giving his voice a chance to shake. "The assassin sent for King Julian, he failed."

At the very instant Gasper spoke his last word, Roman flung out his hand, black sleeve flapping. The feather shot towards Gasper, flying in speed that didn't allow him the opportunity to react. He froze on the spot again. Am I dead?

"Those aren't bad news!" Roman announced, his smirk spread broad. "They're splendid, in fact."

"Yes, boss." Gasper felt the warmth of blood trickling down the side of his neck, and realized the feather took nothing but the top of his ear. Sounding confident was easier now, especially with Roman's encouraging words. "It's splendid boss."

"Why is it splendid?" Roman's smile vanished, darkness falling on his face. Gasper's confidence vanished as his glare fell upon him. "You said these were bad news just a moment ago."

"If the boss finds these news splendid, then I was obviously wrong to think they were bad in the first place." Gasper felt like he managed to find the right words despite the panic that held him. "Sorry for my incompetence, boss." He rushed to add.

Silence came, and every second of it felt like infinity. His eyes darted about the room, seeking for anything to escape Roman's critical gaze. The walls were covered with portraits of nobility, many of them had their eyes pierced with feathers.

He found a pair of faces he recognized amongst them: The crowned, white-bearded Senarion, Veramor's former king, and the golden haired, amber eyed man who overthrew him – Julian. Feathers were stabbed in Senarion's eyes.

"Very well." Roman finally said, and Gasper discovered he hadn't breathed since the last time he spoke. "Run along now."

"Thank you, boss." The thug bowed his head in gratitude for both Roman's mercy, and for Adonael's, who granted him a stay among the living.

As he turned to leave, he noticed both of the feathers Roman flung at him embedded in the portrait hung on the wall behind him. Even a thug like Gasper was familiar with the hardy, mustached face that got its eyes pierced.

It was the Bladeweaver, King of Anerock.