Night Study. Maria V. Snyder
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Just about everything was ready for their trip east. They would leave at dawn and set a fast pace to catch up to his operatives already in the field. The Commander wouldn’t be happy about the delay. Valek straightened as anger rolled through him. If the Commander had confided in him, this entire fiasco would never have happened, and Yelena wouldn’t have been in danger. Instead the Commander chose to reveal his plans only to Onora, the twenty-year-old assassin whose sole desire was to take Valek’s place.
At this point in time, Valek would be happy to give it to her. The Commander has been using her to test Valek’s loyalty for the past month. First by attacking Yelena, to determine if Valek would disobey a direct order, and then with a fake assassination attempt on the Commander. Tiresome, to say the least. Then the Commander assigned him the task of shutting down a new smuggling route into Ixia without informing him of crucial details...
Valek drew in a deep breath to calm the rising fury. No need to waste the energy now. He planned to confront the Commander on his return. In the meantime, he needed to clarify one vital detail with, as Janco liked to call her, Little Miss Assassin.
Onora glanced up as he approached. She continued to comb Onyx’s tail, but a wariness crept into her gray eyes despite her attempts to neutralize her expression. Barefoot even in the cold air, Onora had pulled her long brown hair away from her narrow face. A pretty girl and almost unflappable, it was difficult to discern Onora’s thoughts.
“The horses are almost ready.” She pointed to Kiki. “She won’t let me put shoes on her.”
Her horse knowledge must be considerable if Onora felt comfortable enough to shoe a horse. “Kiki’s a Sandseed horse—they dislike shoes,” Valek said.
“Yeah, she made that quite clear.” Onora pushed up the sleeve on her right arm, revealing a bright red, horse-teeth-shaped bruise.
Valek suppressed a smile. “That’s not for the shoes. Sandseed horses also have a keen sense of smell. That bite is for shooting Yelena with an arrow. Be glad she didn’t decide to kick the side of your head in, as well.”
Kiki snorted as if in agreement. Onora shifted away from Onyx’s hindquarters. She tensed, probably sensing from Valek’s tone that he wasn’t there to talk about horses. The young assassin had helped rescue Yelena and Janco from Owen, which weighed in her favor, and she had been acting on the Commander’s orders when she shot his heart mate. Valek, more than anyone else, understood the advantages and disadvantages of being loyal to the Commander. However, he suspected Onora had lied to him about a few details.
Valek strode right up to her. “The Commander didn’t give you that arrow, did he?”
Dropping the comb, she reached for her knives, but Valek already had his pressed to her throat. She froze. Smart girl.
“You filled the arrow with starlight, hoping Yelena would become pregnant, hoping I’d be happy to retire from my position to raise a family.”
Onora didn’t deny it.
“Are you that hungry for my job?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
She hesitated.
“Show me or I’ll slice your tunic open.”
Giving him a nasty glare, she yanked down the collar of her shirt. A purple C-shaped scar marked her chest. From his own experience with scars, he calculated that it’d been done approximately six months ago. Probably when she first started working for the Commander. Emotions boiled in his stomach. Betrayal and relief dominated. Betrayal over the Commander marking another without discussing it with Valek or even informing him. Relief that he no longer needed to fear for the Commander’s safety whenever Onora was near him, because she had given her life and loyalty to the Commander.
Onora braced for his reaction.
“That scar won’t protect you from me. Don’t lie to me again. Understand?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He pressed harder. Blood welled under the sharp blade.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Hey! What’s going on?” Leif asked.
In one quick motion, Valek sheathed his knife and stepped away from Onora. Leif, Devlen and Yelena hurried to join them. Color had returned to Yelena’s cheeks. It was much better than the deathly paleness that had clung to her skin over the past few days. Of course, it would be even better if she wasn’t staring daggers at him. Probably not a good time to inform her that the Commander and Onora had plotted against her.
“Haven’t you assassinated enough people today?” Leif glared at him, then yanked out a handkerchief to dab at the blood on Onora’s throat. “It looks shallow, but I should put a poultice on it just in case.”
Onora shooed him off. “I’m fine.”
Uncertain about what had caused all this hostility, Valek mulled over Leif’s question. “Who died?”
“Oh, come on. Don’t play the innocent, Mr. Assassin,” Leif said. “I get that you’re all protective of my sister and think anyone who hurts her should die. But they had vital information that could have led us to Owen, you idiot!”
Ah. “All three?”
Leif opened his mouth, but Yelena stopped him. “Yes, Ben, Loris and Cilly.”
While not in the least bit upset over their deaths, Valek did regret not having more time to “talk” with them. He’d used goo-goo juice on Ben to learn the location of the escape tunnel’s exit point, but by the time he’d returned from his failed attempt to track Owen, the Sitian authorities had arrived.
Valek suppressed the urge to glance at Onora. Was she responsible? And, if so, was she acting on her own or following the Commander’s orders? Now was not the time to ask. “How were they killed?” he asked Leif instead.
Leif huffed in annoyance, but Devlen said, “Puncture wound to the jugular. They died of rapid blood loss.”
Yelena touched her neck—a gesture her mother often used when feeling anxious or vulnerable.
None of the assassins he knew killed that way. “Sound familiar?” he asked Yelena.
“When The Mosquito attacked me, he aimed an ice pick at my neck. If he’d succeeded, I probably would have died the same way,” she said.
Valek vowed to find the assassin and squash him. But first... “Didn’t Bruns Jewelrose hire him to target you?” Another whom Valek needed to have a little chat with—he planned to let the sharp point of his knife do all the talking in that conversation.
Her hand remained around her throat. “Yes. Do you think Bruns sent him after the magicians? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t. And an assassin rarely works for one client. Owen has the most to lose if they talked to the Council. Plus, he has the money to hire The Mosquito,” Valek speculated.
“He