The Price Of Obedience
1108 Words
Chapter 4
The words echoed inside Vespera's head.
"If you ever see this mark again... don't trust the King."
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
The voice...
She knew that voice but she just couldn't remember whose it was. The memory vanished before she could grasp it.
"No..." she whispered.
"Come back..."
The assassin tightened his grip around her neck.
"I said don't move!"
His poisoned dagger bit deeper into her skin.
A thin stream of blood slid down her collarbone.
Across the clearing, Rhyven stood motionless. His execution sword remained in his hand.
His expression revealed nothing but only his wolf knew the storm raging beneath that calm exterior.
Kill him.
Protect our mate.
For the first time in thousand of years...
Rhyven hesitated.
His entire life had been built on one rule.
Never hesitate.
A single moment of doubt could cost a life.
Now, that hesitation threatened to cost the life of the woman fate had chosen for him.
The assassin laughed.
"I heard the stories."
"The great Rhyven Blackthorn. The King's perfect executioner and the man who never failed."
He pressed the dagger harder.
"But look at you now. One woman has made you weak."
Around them, the surviving guards looked between Rhyven and Vespera, waiting for an order.
No one dared move.
No one dared breathe.
The assassin smiled.
"Drop your sword."
Slowly, Rhyven lowered the tip of his blade toward the ground.
Gasps erupted from the guards.
"My lord!"
"Don't!"
Commander Garrick's face turned pale.
If Rhyven surrendered his weapon then they were all dead.
The assassin grinned wider.
"Good. Now kick it away."
Rhyven's fingers slowly loosened around the hilt but then he looked directly into Vespera's eyes.
She froze.
She could see there was something different in his gaze.
Not fear.
Not surrender.
A message.
'Trust me.'
She didn't know why but she did. And so the instant Rhyven released his sword—
Vespera threw her entire weight backward.
The assassin stumbled.
His balance broke for the smallest fraction of a second.
That was all Rhyven needed.
His sword had barely touched the ground before he caught it again.
One step.
One swing.
A silver flash cut through the air.
The assassin's smile disappeared.
His body remained standing but his head did not.
It rolled across the dirt before finally stopping at Vespera's feet.
Silence.
The surviving guards stared in horror.
Commander Garrick slowly exhaled.
"That was impossible."
Rhyven wiped the blood from his blade.
"It was timing."
But Vespera knew better.
It had been trust.
The first fragile thread between them.
Minutes later, the bodies of the assassins lay side by side.
Commander Garrick knelt beside one of them.
"My lord."
Rhyven walked over.
"What did you find?"
The commander removed the dead man's glove.
Branded into the assassin's wrist was a black symbol.
A serpent wrapped around a crescent moon.
"I've never seen this crest before," Garrick admitted.
Rhyven frowned.
"It isn't a mercenary mark."
"No."
"It looks... older."
Vespera's breathing hitched.
Another memory flickered.
Dark robes.
Candles.
Someone kneeling before that same symbol.
A man whispering,
"The Order must never fall."
Then nothing as it vanished again.
She pressed a hand against her temple. Pain exploded behind her eyes.
"You remembered something."
Rhyven's voice was calm.
She looked at him.
"I..."
"I don't know."
"You recognized the symbol."
"I think so."
"What is it?"
She shook her head.
"I can't remember."
Frustration burned inside her. Every answer seemed just beyond her reach.
As the guards searched the area, one of them shouted.
"My lord!"
Rhyven turned.
"What is it?"
"We found someone alive."
Hidden beneath a pile of broken branches was a wounded assassin.
An arrow had pierced his leg.
He was bleeding heavily but still breathing.
Commander Garrick dragged him into the clearing.
The man's hood had fallen away to show he couldn't have been older than twenty–five.
Fear filled his eyes.
Rhyven stood over him.
"Who sent you?"
Silence.
"I asked a question."
The assassin smiled despite the blood running from his mouth.
"You'll never find him."
Rhyven crouched.
"You would be surprised."
The assassin looked toward Vespera. Then he laughed.
"You really don't remember..."
Vespera's blood ran cold.
"Remember what?"
His smile widened.
"You were never supposed to survive that night."
"What night?"
"The night—"
Before he could finish his words, a black dart shot from the forest.
It buried itself deep into the assassin's neck and his laughter stopped instantly.
Foam spilled from his lips.
And within seconds he was dead.
Commander Garrick spun toward the trees.
"Find the shooter!"
Guards rushed into the forest but they returned minutes later.
"Nothing."
"No footprints."
"No horses."
"No one."
Rhyven's jaw clenched.
Another witness.
Another silence.
Whoever was behind this conspiracy had eyes everywhere.
As evening settled over the kingdom, the group finally reached Blackthorn Keep.
Unlike the royal palace, the fortress was built for war.
Towering black stone walls surrounded the estate.
Watchtowers overlooked every approach. Iron gates opened with a deep groan.
Servants lined the entrance.
They bowed the moment Rhyven stepped down from the carriage.
"Welcome home, my lord."
Then they noticed Vespera.
The chains.
The blood on her dress.
The whispers began immediately.
"That's her..."
"The woman accused of killing the prince."
"The executioner's mate."
"I heard she bewitched him."
Rhyven ignored them all.
He led Vespera through the great hall.
Portraits of generations of House Blackthorn stared down from the walls.
Power.
Honor.
Duty.
Everything the family stood for.
An elderly man with silver hair approached, leaning on a carved cane. His sharp blue eyes settled on Vespera.
Then on the chain linking their wrists.
His expression darkened.
"Rhyven."
The old man's voice was firm.
"You have brought a murderer into our home."
"This is my decision, Grandfather."
"It is a foolish one."
The old man's gaze shifted to Vespera.
"I watched your trial."
"You deserved the axe then and you still deserve it now."
Vespera lowered her eyes.
She had expected hatred so it no longer surprised her.
But before anyone could say another word—
A terrified servant burst through the front doors.
"My lord!"
He was breathless while covered in dust.
"They found another body."
Rhyven's face hardened.
"Where?"
"The royal prison."
"Who?"
The servant swallowed.
"The prison warden."
Everyone froze.
"He wasn't killed..."
The servant's voice trembled.
"He hanged himself."
A heavy silence followed.
Then the servant added the words that made every person in the hall go still.
"But before he died, he wrote Lady Vespera's name across the wall in blood."
And beneath it, only four words.
"She knows the truth."
- Writer
