Stars of the Sea

Blood

Mira had yet to change from her traveling clothes when she was summoned by the queen. There was blood in her socks. It made them stiff and uncomfortable. As soon as Mira reached her chambers she had wanted to get new socks, because not only were they horribly uncomfortable, it made Mira ill just think about it. Blood. In her fucking socks. It was disgusting. Mira should have been used to disgusting, as an assassin, but this fresh hell was proving far more than she could bear.

"My lady, the queen requires your presence," the messenger said. Mira bit back her groan.

"Yes, I shall see her–"

"Now," the messenger said. Mira glared at him, and he stepped back. "I mean–the queen

is the one who said–she wants you as soon as possible."

"Very well," Mira said, though it was not well, even less so very well. There was blood–against her skin. Mira could feel it. Blood that had once been inside a person, a person who was now dead. They lived on, though, as Mira's torturer.

Mira's latest mission was to kill three Windshaker diplomats, who had come to discuss the return of a sacred artifact that had been taken during the Windshaker War. The queen agreed, but secretly she sent out Mira to kill them and hide their bodies.

In the dead of night, while the Winshakers had been asleep, Mira crept into their camp. The dead leaves and sticks were loud, so Mira shed off her boots and walked in her socks. When it came to Windshakers, Mira didn't leave anything up to chance. They were resilient people, and all of them had large feathered wings they could use to fly. Mira had nearly lost her life dozens of times in the Windshaker war, and she had only been a footsoldier for a little over a year.

Mira slit the Windshaker's throats as they slept.

"Your Majesty," Mira said. She kneeled on the ground. Her eyes flickered to the queen. Mira was too tired to be nervous. What drew Mira's attention was the arrow in the queen's hand. Everyone knew that the queen did not bother with weapons.

"It seems my bitch of a granddaughter has finally proven to be of some use," Thirza drawled. "She killed a man, Mira. Shot him through the heart."

Mira did not know what to say. She opted instead to remain silent: always a safe option.

"She can't do magic though, such a shame. You have a little magic, don't you child," the queen said. Mira did not know if the question warranted an answer.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Mira said.

"Even so, you don't have enough of it to be a mage," Thirza said. "It's better this way. You're far too talented to be wasted away in a library." Mira smiled faintly. She was still too exhausted to care that she was being praised. The queen frowned.

"Yes Your Majesty," Mira said.

"Belladonna never should have been born to this family. She should have been a peasant, a serf, like you." Mira's shoulders tensed. "But you're not a serf anymore, my dear. Look what you have become. All thanks to me."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Mira said. The queen frowned.

"Watch your tone," Thirza said. Mira's eyes went wide. I'm just tired.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Mira swallowed.

"Belladonna will never be a mage," Thirza said. "But she has promise. She seems to be decent enough of a killer. Who knows, one day she might surpass even you." Mira clenched her fists and glared at the floor. She's a child. She has no chance. The queen laughed as if she heard Mira's thoughts. "It will take centuries, at the very least. In all my centuries, there is more blood on your hands than my own. It's laughable. A pathetic, mortal woman, without even any strong magic, has slew countless men and women. They don't call you the "Grim Reaper's Sister" for nothing my dear." Thirza laughed. She said it mockingly, and Mira wanted to make herself small.