The Assassin's Tale Read Online Free Page B

in the chair next to hers, both of them facing the crackling fireplace. 
    “Almost,” said Mara. “My mother died. Orcish raiders had taken us as slaves, and she never stopped looking for an opportunity to escape. It came, and we took it. But she was already sick, and the journey was too much for her. She died in the wilderness, and I have been alone ever since.”
    “And the Red Family found you,” said Jager.
    “Yes,” said Mara, taking another sip of the wine. Actually, the Matriarch had found her, as Mara had struggled to keep from transforming into a monster. But Mara did not dare tell Jager about the Matriarch. The Matriarch valued her secrecy, and would kill them both if Mara breathed a word about her. “They were…impressed by my skills. How I had survived on my own for all these years. They recruited me.”
    “So you joined, as you had nowhere else to go,” said Jager. His voice had the faintest hint of a slur. Perhaps he had drunk too much and lowered his guard around her. Or perhaps he was trying to lure her in. “And now, years later, you regret it, and they have a hold over you.”
    “No,” said Mara. “I never wanted to join. They coerced me from the beginning.” Without the jade bracelet, she would have transformed into a monster years ago, becoming the slave of the Traveler or whatever dark elven lord found her first. 
    “It is a cruel world,” said Jager. She looked to see if he was making a joke, but he gazed into the fire instead, his expression distant. “Still, my past is not as cruel as yours, it seems. I am sorry for your losses.”
    “Thank you,” said Mara. She felt a little woozy. She had indeed drunk too much wine. “What of your family?”
    Jager shrugged. “Dead. Mostly. My mother died when I was a child. My father died about…nine years ago. I do have a sister. But we have not spoken since my father’s death. She…would disapprove of some choices I have made. Severely, I fear.” 
    “It was your father’s death,” said Mara. “Wasn’t it?”
    “Wasn’t what?” said Jager.
    “That made you lose your faith,” said Mara. “That made you hate the nobles of Andomhaim so much.”
    Jager stared into the fire. “Yes.” 
    “I’m sorry, too,” said Mara.
    Jager let out a bitter little laugh. “An odd thing to say to a man you plan to kill.”
    “True,” said Mara. “But I do not want to cause you pain. I do not delight in cruelty. I am not a dark elf, I am not…”
    She stopped talking, aware that she had said too much.
    “A dark elf?” said Jager. “An odd thing to say.”
    “You have made me drunk, sir,” said Mara, hoping to cover her lapse. “One might think you have untoward intentions toward me.”
    “Well, of course I do,” said Jager. “But considering you plan to kill me, that is a most hypocritical accusation.” 
    “True,” said Mara.
    Jager grunted, got to his feet, picked up a poker, and started to shift the coals in the fireplace.
    Mara stared at his back, which she had to admit she found handsome, and a thought occurred to her.
    They were both slightly drunk. Or more than slightly drunk. All it would take was one sharp push, and he could crack his skull on the mantel or the side of the fireplace. When the servants found him in the morning, they would assume that he had drunk too much wine, lost his balance, and fell. Or, even better, Mara could push him now and then fake a hysteric fit, weeping and screaming until the servants arrived. They would simply assume their master had tried to seduce her, lost his balance, and come to a tragic end.
    It all flashed through her mind, clear as crystal. 
    She stared at Jager’s back, and did not move. 
    She desperately did not want to kill him. It had been a long, long time since she had been honest with someone other than the Matriarch. And the Matriarch was cold and hard, her heart as black as her eyes. The Matriarch only laughed at her pain, regarding it as an amusing