Blood Queen

Chapter 1: Twenty Years Later

The city of Cyris was bustling, tonight being the New Year Festival.

Vendors shouted out various reasons to buy their wares, their voices ringing out cheerfully. It was a good night to sell and make money, so any average businessman wouldn't want to miss a chance to make good sales.

Smiling families walked gaily through the streets, which were decorated with colourful ribbons and balloons that reflected the light beautifully from the numerous torches lit up in honour of the festival. They were so numerous that everywhere you went, there was only light, no shadows. Even of there were, the shadows were negligible.

It was a day of light's triumph against darkness.

Though Ayra couldn't say the same in the local bar she was presently at. It was only graced by the light from scant torches, making the whole room dim. She didn't mind though. Darkness was home to her.

From the corner she was sitting in with a cup of wine in her hands, she scanned the rows of shadowy faces for her 'charge.' The bar was filled with so many people tonight that the bar staff had to move all the tables and chairs to a corner, leaving just enough room for the thick mess of gyrating bodies, who were all shaking to the tunes of the bar's musicians.

She took a sip of her wine, trying to ignore the ogling gazes of the surrounding men, young and old. Sometimes she wondered why old men didn't just look for equally old women to sleep with. Which young woman without an agenda would sleep with a bulbous sack of old flesh when there were plenty young men around?

Oh well, she chuckled to herself. If it involved money of course. 'People talk, money works.'

Ayra scanned the crowd again, looking for who she was supposed to kill. Where was he? She was getting impatient. Already, she was tired of the loudness and rowdiness of the crowd, not to talk of the gazes of men that had probably undressed her ten times over in the thick skulls that was their heads.

A young man finally appeared from the midst of the thick throngs, a weary smile on his face as he picked a chair and flopped down on it. He was also holding a drink, cradling the cup between fine, long and nimble fingers.. His hair was dark and thick, reaching to his shoulders; his chin was proud and strong, and his cheekbones were high and regal.

All in all, he wasn't bad looking. Pity, she thought, he'd just become another dead body tonight.

She studied him some more as she went over her plans. Her beauty would play a huge role in this. She was wearing a long silk gown that clung to her curves, a slit going down one side and showing one smooth pale leg. The neckline went down far enough to suggest, with a gold necklace gracing her neck.

She had even allowed Mina to give her a make-over, which just went to show how important she had been told this mission was. The why? She didn't know as she wasn't informed. Training with The Hunt had taught her not to ask questions.

When she was little, they'd sing it over and over to her ears. 'No questions,' they had said over and over again anytime she questioned a mission, in time with a lash from a barbed whip. 'Just do, don't ask.'

The wine in her cup was finished with one last gulp. She moved slowly towards the man, taking care to sway her hips in just that sexy manner, her eyes changing to a look of seduction. The Hunt had taught her a lot of things, the art of seduction included. Apparently, it was a necessary tool of assassination.

Mr. Handsome looked up, their gazes meeting. An amused smile formed on those perfect lips of his as he took in everything about her.

His eyes were a lighter shade of red than hers, she noticed, and they seemed to peer right into her soul. Gods, was he hot. She was suddenly feeling almost bad to take the light from those eyes forever.

Wait. Was she okay? This surely wasn't her first time assassinating hot guys. Guys even hotter than this man before her had met their ends by her hands. And knives.

So what was with the sudden emotion with this guy?

Ayra adjusted herself mentally and repeated the words of The Hunt in her head: 'Carry out the mission efficiently and without emotion . . . Carry out the mission efficiently and without emotion . . . Carry out . . . '

“Hey,” she greeted, giving him a charming smile.

The man's eyes followed her movements as she sat down and put her empty cup on the round wooden table between them.

“Hey,” he greeted back, his voice containing a trace of amusement.

Ayra had to blink to control herself from doing something stupid. Even his voice was hot. The sound of his smooth

baritone washed over her with a warmth that was both welcoming and unwelcoming.

Why was she feeling warmth from just his voice?

It took her some amount of self-control not to blush deep red. Instead she crossed one leg over the other and leveled a sultry gaze at him.

“You have someone you wanna see tonight?” she asked, letting a touch of suggestion colour her tone.

He slowly took a sip of his drink, his eyes still twinkling with an amused curiosity. “Oh? Why, you got plans for me?”

'Yeah, one that involves slashing your hot throat.'

She blinked her long lashes at him and replied, “I think so? The plan's still forming based on some criteria.” She gave him an appraising once-over.

He chuckled, and the sound went all the way to her bones. “I hope the criteria is met then, because I'm very interested in this plan of yours.”

Ayra made a show of considering something, her lips pursed in pretend thought. She noticed his eyes flicker to her lips.

Good, the plan was working.

“You know what,” she said, giving him a teasing smile. “ Buy me a drink. Drinking wine helps me think faster. ”

He smiled in return. “ I'd be happy to oblige. ”

He then called the attention of a bar staff and gave her a copper coin. “ One bottle of wine, please. ”

The girl took the money and bowed, almost too deeply, then she hurried off — maybe too quickly — to get the wine.

Ayra didn't blame her though. Serving the Duke's son was not an everyday occurrence.

Yeah, The Hunt had decided to go big this time, giving her a mission to kill the son of the Duke, the most powerful man in Cyris. She had first been curious as to why The Hunt wanted him dead, but had held her tongue. If it involves some sort of power play, she didn't want to get unwittingly roped into it.

Ayra had made her research on him though, and surprisingly came up with nothing. Nothing at all. You'd think the Duke's son was supposed to have tons of records on him. The only thing she knew was his name — Marc. And little bits of info from his maids and servants. Which, saying, wasn't much.

The girl dropped a bottle of wine and retreated just as quickly. Marc smiled and poured a cup for Ayra, and she watched his confident and assured movements, a feeling she didn't like arising in her. This mission was important to The Hunt; she couldn't fail, she told herself.

But then he smiled at her again, and she was suddenly not sure of herself anymore.