The Scarlet Assassin

Chapter Fifty-Three (The King's POV)

King Orson rarely traveled outside his fortress, but this, he had to see. He had to be a witness of the falling of the great Scarlet Assassin.

She had become less of an alley and more of a nuisance these past few years. King Orson had once liked her, he supposed, but he never really cared for her. He did, however, crave her gifts.
But with those gifts becoming heavy burdens, he knew he had to lighten the load. He knew the Scarlet Assassin had to be put down.

Killing her was difficult, tricking her was even harder, because she was trained to be ruthless and cunning—Plus, he couldn't officially order to kill her without the Core Defense becoming suspicious—but everyone slips up eventually.

"Sir," a soldier said, bowing deeply when King Orson turned toward the voice. "Your carriage is ready."

"Good. I'll be there in a minute." The soldier bowed again and left. A moment later, King Orson slipped his crown on his head, tied on his fur-lined royal cape and walked from his chambers.

A long carriage ride later, King Orson was walking up to the Viper's Den. People surrounding the building scrambled at the sight of him, eyes wide. But that was nothing compared to what happened when he pushed the door open.

The entire bar silenced in a matter of seconds. Everyone looked like they were going to piss their pants with fear.

"Where is the Scarlet Assassin?" King Orson asked in a deep, controlled voice. There was no response, not even a fraction of recognition. Everyone was too frightened to say anything.

Then finally, a woman who was leaning against the wall and frowning said, "Up there," and pointed to a door up the main stairs and to the left.

Orson snapped his fingers and a group of six guards rushed upstairs.

When they barged through the door, they found three things: a half-empty jar of bourbon, a book lying closed on a brown, polished desk, and a young woman with deep auburn red hair sitting behind it. She barely glanced at the guards as she sipped again on her drink, barely even reacted.

"His Royal Highness, King Orson," one of the guards, a younger one, announced. A tall, burly man who walked too straight, too stiffly, strutted in. His eyes first slipped to the many cases in the room, to the artifacts laying like trophies on the shelves. He noted a saber with what looked like a cloth wrapped around the hilt, two matching gold chalices, a jewel, pirate's gold, and other junk.
His smirk was curled and malicious as he stared at the girl in triumph.

She had dark circles under her eyes, darker than usual, and she was skinnier than she'd been when she'd left. But that wasn't what delighted the king the most. It was the defeat she didn't try to hide. Her face, usually outlined with a smirk, was serious and dark. There was no humor, no light. He finally realized how tired she looked, how broken she was. She looked.... empty, like the motivation that once pushed her was suddenly ripped off her.

"No sarcastic greeting? Is that what our relationship has come to?" The king gloated. The Scarlet Assassin took another long drink from her glass. She looked down at her desk, at the book with the blue cover and white lettering then glanced up at the king.

"How long do I have?" She asked. The king hadn't expected this question, but he still didn't hesitate.

"A minute, maybe two. Depends on how nice you are to me." She didn't respond to that, didn't look bothered. Casually, she poured herself another drink and drank. She was still staring at the book, looking deep in thought. King Orson's smile faltered.

"You couldn't have possibly-"

"Known you were going to lock me up the second I stepped foot on Ravaryn soil? Claim that I had left without legal papers and then arrest me for doing so?" She set her glass down and sighed. "I figured that out the second you didn't put your words in writing." His lips curled with annoyance.

"Then why did you come back?" He spat. Of course, he was glad she hadn't run off. It would've been long and exhausting tracking her down, but this wasn't how he expected to take down his assassin.

The Scarlet Assassin barely looked at him. "Because I'm tired of running away, because I knew you'd find me eventually. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life running and hiding. I've done enough of that for a lifetime." The king's eyes narrowed. There was a problem. Where was his lieutenant? His daughter?

"Where's the princess? And Lieutenant Styker?" Finally, the assassin looked up at him. She seemed intrigued that he knew the princess was with her. Orson had figured that out the day they left—when the princess mysteriously disappeared the day before.

"Dead." The guards murmured. The lieutenant had been a friend or mentor to most of them. And the princess... dead.

"How?" he demanded.

The assassin stared at him, gauging his reaction before saying, "I found out about your little plot to have Sorin kill me, so I put an end to it. And as for the princess, let's just say she was a loose end." The king held back a smile. This. This was enough to incriminate her. She confessed to murdering his daughter, the princess. He could charge her without a trial. He had expected to take her into custody and have to sit through month-long trials, but now he didn't have to. She cornered herself.

But he forced his face to quiver, forced fake tears to well up in his eyes. He had to make it believable. "Y-you killed her? You killed my daughter?!" There was no sympathy in her face. In fact, the assassin's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, I know you're so torn up about that." Her tone... it took him by surprise.

She knew, he realized. She knew he'd planned to marry her off to a different country to shut her up. Sophie had always been after his crown. She was an irritation he no longer had to deal with. In fact, ever since he'd killed her useless mother, he'd wanted to get her out of the picture. The king found he wanted to thank the assassin, but he kept his face smooth. Everything was falling in place so smoothly, like a perfectly etched puzzle.
The king inhaled and took a step back. His guards looked at him in shock, in empathy. Fools. Ignorant, guiable fools. He turned so his back was to the assassin.

"This is treason at the highest level," he said shakily. "I have no choice but to sentence you to life at Quatalin. Effective immediately. Get her up." They reacted immediately.

King Orson expected her to fight as they roughly grabbed her arms and pulled her up, her chair falling and slamming against the ground, but she hadn't. She didn't even look to be armed at all. The guards began escorting her from the room but the king held up a hand and they hastily halted.

"I hope the Gods show you mercy," he said. It was growing increasingly harder to hide a smile. The girl blinked. She didn't look startled or frightened at all.

Then, suddenly, she parted her mouth slightly, but no words came out. Something hit the king's cheek. He stumbled back a step, hand going to his face. It took him a second to realize she had spit on him and a second longer for the anger to fully seep in. Raising a hand, he struck her. When she straightened, King Orson realized with shock that she was smiling.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that," she said, laughing dryly. Blood was coating her teeth from her busted lip. The king wiped away the spit on his cheek and said with disgust,

"Get her out of here."

And that's when the guards escorted Vera Annalise Drystan, the Scarlet Assassin, leader of the Vipers, down to the carriage that would bring her to a ship that would carry her to her final destination.

The king watched her leave, then found his eyes glancing toward her desk where the book with the blue cover still sat. He saw the title briefly before walking out to plan two funerals.

The End.