The King's Assassin

The Royal Departure

5,442 miles South of the Capital, Porto Halesi

Six days have passed since I received word of my designation to protect the King of Porto Halesi and now, I am finally leaving.

Over the course of six days, I tried to say goodbye to the life I have always known as best that I could. Which, to be honest, didn't take much. Kelsey and Danna were really the only two friends I'd gotten out of all this; the rest of them had been much too scared to overstep their boundaries with Shamar's Golden Girl. And so, as I went shopping for palace-appropriate clothes, I decided to treat the two of them to a blowout as well. The rest of my clothes and a good chunk of my possessions I gave to Candidates who fit them.

I left nothing to the other Silvers. They can get their own sh*it for themselves.

Shamar picks up my last suitcase, a sight which made the few Candidates in the room gape. The simple act looked kind of demeaning on him, especially since I don't think anyone has ever asked him to carry their luggage down three flights of stairs. Still, it's sweet of the five-foot-eleven chunk of mass who knew full well I can carry my own stuff— and far more heavier things— without breaking a fingernail. I considered helping him since, after all, he was still technically my boss, but I let him be miserable for a few more moments.

Behind me, Kelsey bawls loudly before blowing her nose into a tissue despite my warnings for her to shut up and suck it up. Her eyes are swollen and puffy from too much crying, begging me to stay since last night. Danna was more composed about the whole thing. That earned her a note of approval from Shamar.

"Ya ibn el sharmouta!" Shamar panted, grunting in effort as he hauled the last suitcase down To the stairs. "What are you carrying inside this, woman?"

I try to hide my smile, knowing full well my Glocks and knives are stuffed in there underneath my panties and nightgowns.

"All I can say," I call out to him, "is that if you drop it, it was nice knowing you."

I step out into the roofed driveway, the heat smacking me full-force, and do my best to commit everything into memory: the neatly mowed grass, tall cypress trees lining the courtyard, the yellow limestone pathway, and the small blinking reds scattered all around the lawn, watching my every step. A silver SUV was waiting for me in the driveway. Beside it, two men in matching black suits.

Not expensive, I note, unable to help myself from profiling the two men. Guards, then. I try not to be offended that the Palace didn’t feel that I needed escorts that were at least soldiers. hey were tall, almost— if not as— tall as Shamar. I was told that freakish height was a requirement to be part of the Elite guard. Another thing my skill has to make up for.

"Are you Miss Scarlett Priori?" Henchman Number 1 on my left asked. He peers down on me because of my height, brow rising. I keep my eyes on the car instead; there is no way I'll succumb to that kind of powerplay.

"Yes," I answered curtly. When I was met with silence, I lift a brow, glancing at the two men challengingly. "Is there something wrong?"

Both remain perfectly expressionless until Shamar comes barging out from the villa, pushing the suitcase into Henchman Number 1's arms, carrying it effortlessly.

"It's about time you loggerheads made yourselves useful. Where's the general?" he demanded, muttering. He turns to Henchman Number 2. "Monty?"

Henchman Number 2 stands straighter at being addressed directly. "The King required his immediate presence back at the palace. He gives his regards, sir."

Shamar scowls but nods. Henchman Number 2 opens the car door for me, and just like that, I am leaving.

I turn to the others with a small smile. "Well—" I take a deep breath. "This is it."

Kelsey pushes past Shamar, enveloping me in a vice tight embrace. I'm glad that her tears have been reduced to a calmer stream now. I've never had that inborn talent of my gender in comforting miserable people, being the kind of person who'd tell another to suck it up. Kelsey doesn't need that now, however, so I let her weep into my suede dress.

"Kels, it's going to be fine, come on. You're going to have to buy me a new dress with all your crying," I said half-jokingly. "Look! Danna's laughing at your misery."

"Let her! I just don't want you to go," she cried.

"Don't be like this, kiddo. We'll see each other again."

Shamar raises a brow at that even though he wasn't looking at us and I prayed he'd stay silent. I didn’t tell Kelsey or anyone else that I was never coming back. It's not that I don't like these girls. I love them too. But I don't want to see any of them ever again. It would just remind me of the time I spent in this villa and it would break my heart if they become reminders of such a bleak time in my life.

It seemed to calm Kelsey down, not realizing I was lying. A heavy weight felt like being put over my shoulders. She looks up at me and I muster a grin that would put her at ease.

"Atta girl."

After Kelsey got her fill of squeezing the life out of me, Danna hugs me next. She flips her long hair back before sparing me a cheeky smirk. "You know how I can be psychic at times?" she asked cryptically.

I thought of the times she's predicted things fairly well and nodded. I wasn't a believer of her 'talent', but I didn't doubt her instincts, either. Out of all the girls I have worked with, I trusted Danna’s guts the most.

"I have this feeling you won't be disappearing in our lives any time soon." She places a leather cord bracelet with a small red stone held fastened by the cord. "No matter how hard you try not to say goodbye aloud.”

I stare at the small, handcrafted thing inside my palms and the knowing look in her eyes, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards Danna. She squeezes my shoulders tightly, nodding and understanding the small silence between us. She steps back, allowing me to see the people who’ve gathered behind her. I wave goodbye to the other girls before Shamar snaps his fingers. As one, the girls and I fell into a steady stance, hands behind our back, eyes straight, and faces devoid of emotion.

Deep inside, I am grinning. This is Shamar's last gift to me: showing up Henchmen 1 and 2.

"Silvers, " Shamar's voice rang in the courtyard like a steady note of baritone. "An honor salute is in order, don't you think?"

And as one, for the very last time, our voices resounded in the area, nesting deep inside me while the words we spoke embodied who I have been for the longest time.

"I am a Silver. Forged by fire and ice, sweat and blood, darkness and light. A man cannot make me fall. I am my own and my company's. Unyielding. Merciless. A woman."

The Candidates and the remaining Silvers then raised their pins: little silver things reminding us who we were before we joined the company. I take out mine from under my dress, on a chain around my neck. With my thumb, I run it over the small fire under a crown engraved on the metal.

"To Scarlett of Mitayeen, who became the Silver that triumphed over nations, your sisters bless you and your departure. Elhaksherre Avante."

And with the last few of my tears I promised myself I would never shed, I repeated their blessing. "Elhaksherre Avante, my sisters."

Without looking over my shoulder, I climb inside the awaiting vehicle. In a matter of seconds, we were out of the villa and the whole Silver property, formally closing this chapter of my life with them. I make it a point to dry my tears before hitting the main street. Instead, I face the window with resolve pinning me to my last promise. Freedom is a step away, at last.

~*~

Merenell Castle, The Capital, Porto Halesi

From the Point-of-View of the King

"We have major news from the Western battalion, Your Majesty."

General Digracé waves the soldier forward, his expression seeming to be smug at the most— in his case— opportune entrance. It undeniably might back up his earlier report, one I refuse to put stock in but, as usual, being the new, young king seemed to make others think that they are just so better than I am. For weeks now, my word still means s**t. I might as well apply as my own court jester.

I sigh, rolling back my shoulders in all resignedness. "Let me guess, another Duke was found dead in the country?" I asked in a flat tone. "Sexed to death? Erotic asphyxiation? Tell me, man."

The soldier turns puce at my words but composed himself. "Neither, my King. The report tells of a win from the province rebels. Our troops have pushed back until the borders of Sutanim and Philly. Commander Levy is awaiting further instructions."

A win. Huh. "How many casualties on both sides?"

"Three hundred dead on our side; a thousand for the rebels," the soldier was quick to answer.

General Digracé clucks his tongue, flicking his cigar over an ashtray. "That's not a great victory, Your Majesty," he says gruffly. "They'll cut back to the Capital even faster now that it's only a month away until your coronation."

"I'm not pushing it back, General," I said, tired of repeating this over and over again.

The old, stubborn son of a bastard stood up. His hands were raised in surrender as he blabbered out of the room. I sag deeper in my chair, cursing the less than comfortable cushioning. Then I curse some more because of my predicament.

I hate this. I hate looking like a fool; a king that has no power over his people. My father was not treated like this and he was the kindest person I have ever met. The coronation is a means to finally put an end to the childlike treatment, but even that they're trying to deny me.

There have been several attacks on the nobles who’ve come early for the festivities. Just a few nights ago, a Duke died in my own home— poisoned under my roof— and have made my advisors incredibly anxious. So, instead of pushing the event forward, they want to postpone it.

"I'm sure that if they could have their way, they'll take the throne from me all the same," I mutter under my breath. "What kind of brain do they have?" I hear a throat being cleared but I ignore it. "I swear that once I'm crowned I'll wipe out those soot-faced dung-fuckers with a smile. Starting from that pig fucker Digracé. I'll not have Porto Halesi be steered by such men who only—What?!”

The soldier from earlier was still standing by the entryway, shaking in discomfort. I thought he went away with muckface General Digracé. He bows his head in quiet apology for his presence. I exhale and count to ten before acknowledging him.

"You may speak."

"Thank you, milord! Yes, milord! It's just that..."

I roll my eyes, "What! Speak up!"

The young soldier jumped, then bowing again and again at the waist. "She's here, milord! The beautiful woman is here!"

‘Beautiful woman’? Did one of the court ladies grow a pair and finally decided to corner him like this? "What are you yapping about, you squirt-c****d imbecile?"

Just then, the door to my study opens. Another guard enters my office with a small bow.

"Miss Scarlett Priori, Your Majesty. Your new Elite."

Oh. She's here? I look down at my state, running my fingers through my hair. This will have to do. Besides, why do I have to look presentable for a woman who must have muscles larger than I have?

"Send her in."

"No need for sending anybody."