FOREVER KNIGHTS: #5 Subjugation of Beasts

Blue Lark Guild, Dread Hideout

SAVAGE JAXSON

A woman entered the Blue Lark Guild looking to hire an assassin.

She’d passed the tower guards, passed the Courtyard Guards and made it right in the front door of his fortress, and straight into Winter Haven Alehouse for just that purpose.

But Savage Jaxson saw her clearly for what she was. Royalty. His study zeroed in on her from across the room. Watching the way she swept her cape and how carefully she stepped over a spilled drink.

He glimpsed her hand as she gripped the hem of her cape. Not old. Not young. He caught a wisping curl of hair moving beyond the hood as she breathed.

Dark brown. Female. Middle-aged royalty. In the Blue Lark to hire an assassin.

Whose the threat? A lover or heir to the throne? He drew closer, watching her profile peer from under the red hood. Spotting a particularly weaselly man across the room.

The Death Dealer. Though he didn’t look like much, he was a skilled killer. Not particular in whether he murdered women or children.

“What are you looking at?” Dimurah whispered over the counter. “The one wanting to hire?”

“The woman wanting to hire.” He corrected absentmindedly. Not looking away from his target. But inhaling slowly to take in Dimurah’s womanly scent. Causing an immediate reaction in his body which he currently dismissed. Focusing on the interchange unraveling before him.

Dimurah leaned further across the counter for a better look. “’Tis a woman? How can you tell?”

“I’m good at spotting women.” He gave her a pointed glance. Before averting his attention back to the woman sitting with the Death Dealer.

“I was only a girl at the time.”

The Tradesman didn’t much care. Contempt surged through Savage.

“One dressing as a boy.”

“It kept me safe.”

No. It didn’t. I know what he did to you. His eyes flicked sideways to her.

“What keeps you safe now?”

Me.

“You know full well.”

Yes. But I want to hear you say it.

He felt her glare boreing into him.

“Why are you so intent on their conversation?” She queried.

No such admonition then. Sure, I’ll let you change the subject.

“It’s who she’s hiring.”

“Why?” Dimurah peered at him curiously.

“There’s two kinds of assassins here. Ones that have no aim to hurt women or children.” He leaned an elbow on the counter to be closer to her. Twisting enough to point to the far corner where a lumbering redheaded man sat pounding down as much drink as his decorative alehorn could hold.

RedBayne.

“Despite his rough exterior, you’ll never persuade him to kill a woman or child. Not for any amount of coin. In-fact, he may kill you just for asking.” He added. “But that one…” He twisted to point at the Death Dealer seated across from the royalty. “He doesn’t discriminate.”

Dimurah frowned. Eyeing the Death Dealer as she took in his words.

“She likely has a sister or daughter she wants dead.”

Possibly an unlucky lover.

“What does it matter to you?” Dimurah asked.

It doesn’t.

“Curiosity.” He straightened off the bar.

“Oh, no.” She lunged over the counter and swiped twice at the back of his padded leather tunic trying to get ahold of him. “Savage Jack! No.” But her fingers only drew over the back. Unable to find a hold.

It was too late. He crossed the room to stand near the mystery woman’s shoulder. Glaring down at her like an impending thunderstorm.

She looked up at him, startled.

“Who are you?” He barked.

“I’m only here doing business.” She lifted her hands supplicatingly.

“You’ve no business here!” He said violently. “Which realm are you spying for?”

“I-I’m I’m not!” She gestured helplessly across the table.

She’ll be more inclined to confess to a lesser sin now.

“She was agreeing on an amount of coin.” The Death Dealer whined in her defense.

Savage swatted back her hood and revealed a pile of twining dark curls and large brown eyes.

She fumbled under her cape and he shook his head slowly in warning. When she pulled a knife shorter than his finger, he glowered at her.

With that? Truly?

She made a jutting motion and he caught her wrist and twisted until the sad little knife slipped from her fingers. He swept it up with his other palm and put the point to the soft spot under her jaw. Slowly pressing.

“No!” She leaned up, thudding the bench as she tried to escape that pointed tip.

Only a few centimeters before it pierces.

Best rise. He guided her up until she stood.