King of the Seditious
Covering the Nauvree's Tracks

Alazar, The Nauvree, was assessing the camp site the next morning. Still analyzing that intriguing dagger the assassin had tried to use and trying to recognize who this assassin was.

“It’s true what she says.” The voice stopped Alazareth in his tracks as he returned to the woods from escorting her back to Nightway in the early hours.

Mardichi, The RedBayne.

He stood near the remnants of the long dead fire. Eyes skimming the body of the dead man.

The man I killed trying to assassinate Riaura.

“I came to warn ye.” Mardichi murmured. “Someone from Igonox hired an assassin last nigh’ ta kill yer Nightway princess. Savage called ’er out in the Blue Lark.”

“You came albeit late.”

“Nay.” Mardichi murmured. “I didn’t. The Death Dealer is still back at the Blue Lark. He planned to come this way late this eve. I knew nothing of this un’.” Mardichi gestured to the dead man at his feet.

“How many are there?” Alazar asked worriedly.

“I’ve no idea…Now. Perhaps every assassin who crossed the path between the Blue Lark and Igonox may’ve received coin to murder yer wee lass.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“It will unless you’re heading to the Blue Lark to intercept him.” Mardichi gave him an extended study.

Alazar nodded and headed west. Planning to cut straight across Grier. To get there as soon as possible.

“Ye can’t kill him in the guild.” Mardichi called. Trotting after him.

“I know that.”

“Ye’re challenging Savage Jack…Killing an assassin.”

“I know that.”

Mardichi grunted and shook his head. Falling into step behind him. “All our immortality migh’ no’ save us.” Mardichi grumbled. “Ye do recall tha’ particular man has an art for killin’ immortals…”

“I do recall that.” Alazar flinched but kept walking.

Christophe Rhyers was an old friend of The Nauvree and RedBayne’s and an apt tracker. Which was how he found them so easily. “There you are.”

Alazareth’s head popped up and he jerked. “I didn’t hear you.”

“No one ever does.” He hopped a log to sit near the two men’s camp. Annoyance tinged his voice. “You need to be more careful.”

Alazareth quirked a blonde brow.

“Your slaughter of the Death Dealer was messy. If you’re going to cross the King of Assassins, couldn’t you do it with a bit more discretion?”

Alazar cleared his throat. “I thought I had.”

“You left him your typical Nauvree Letter. A banner declaring it was you killing your own assassin kind.” Rhyers noted.

Alazar grimaced.

“You’re engaging in activities that could get you killed. Why?”

Alazar stared at him unblinkingly.

“Oh, you’ve no intention of telling me. That’s fine. But you best take more care in cleaning up after yourself. I got rid of your tracks, from the mud, as much as I could.”

“Thank you, Rhye.”

“Don’t thank me, yet. You know how dangerous that man is. But I’m not sure you know quite how cunning.”

“I’m well aware.”

“I don’t know if you are. If you saw the whole picture of how big the King of the Assassins’ little operation has become you’d be more duly intimidated. He has people at his command you’d never guess.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t want to see him come after you.” Rhyers moved to leave but Alazar’s voice stopped him.

“I know.” A note of shame entered Alazareth’s voice. “I am looking at a bigger picture. I’m not killing men just to kill them.”

Rhyers rotated on his heel. “That hadn’t entered my mind.” He sighed. “But at the very least, summon me next time, to help you clean the traces after your kill before he finds your trail.”

“Fair.” Alazar noted.

Savage was sitting at the counter in the tavern, watching Dimurah pointedly ignore him. Again.

She’d eventually acknowledged his rationale from confronting the woman hiring the Death Dealer though it hadn’t changed her frustration that she couldn’t control him.

I suppose I’m the only one in these walls she can’t find a way to control. He lifted his tankard and took another sip. Watching Murah moving about in her oversized cloak. Bits of mud still smudged on her cheeks.

To hide her beauty.

Though it mattered not to him. She always looks the same to me.

Like something both beautiful and simultaneously too wild to tame.

A man tossed open the door and rushed in. Scanning the tavern his gaze lit on Savage and he headed for him purposefully.

Bad news. Savage recognized. Swinging his legs off the stool and landing on his boots to meet the man.

“There’s a dead assassin found in the Warwood.” The man whispered to Savage.

“One of ours?”

“Jolly Jakes.” The man nodded.

“Show me.”

The young assassin nodded. “I’ll take you right to him, My King.”

Savage was nearly to the door when a hand caught his bare bicep beneath the studded sleeveless tunic.

The moment the hand made contact, Savage’s other whipped across his chest to clutch the wrist and turned, twisting it and prepared to snap it until his gaze landed on Dimurah.

His grip eased until it just rested on her wrist.

“Where are you going?” She asked. Blue eyes awash with emotion.

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

Her gaze slid to the young assassin next to him. “What’s happened?”

The young assassin looked from Savage to Dimurah and ducked his head.

“I asked you a question.” She stalked toward him. Exuding all the power of the mistress of Winter Haven.

A formidable creature of her own.

The man shuffled sideways but refused to answer her.

“Fine.” She snapped. Glaring heatedly at Savage. “Keep your king’s secrets.”

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