Assassin (Book 1)

EIGHT

 "This is Joseph," Lance said, dragging me along as I shied away from everyone behind him.

He looked like he would snap me in half. Big, burly, hairy—

"He was a butcher before he came here because the royal guards burned down his meat shop after Joseph told them he didn't have enough money for taxes. He's from outside the gates. This is Demetria." He took me to a pretty girl who was busy braiding her thick hair in a fishtail.

The girl wouldn't look up into my face. She just smirked, looking only at Lance.

"Hello Demetria," I greeted.

"Hello. How long will you stay? Or are you just here for the food? Free shelter, maybe?"

"Demetria. . ." Lance warned, and pulled me away, lowering his voice. "She thinks she's so great just because she's a good fighter. I'm the only one she can't defeat."

Can you defeat me?

I followed him around as he introduced me to everybody. This is Darren." He introduced me to a golden haired boy that was fairly good looking, with blue eyes and a serious smile. Next was Aland, a brown haired boy with soft hazel eyes. Sitting next to them was Charlotte, the redhead. She'd come with her parents as a child.

Soon later came many adults and a sweet woman with a kind smile named Anna, and a newlywed couple. There were a few rude ones also, but I managed just fine. "And this is our crew," he concluded, ending the tour back at my room. "Do you like it?"

"Of course," I laughed. "What do you think?" I think this is a waste of time. Xavier is dying.

"I think everyone is glad to have you here," Lance grinned. "So, what do you want to do now?"

"I'm not sure," I shrugged. "Is the tour over?" I was hoping to get some information about the antidotes and poisons, but he didn't mention anything about an infirmary.

"Yeah," he nodded, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.

"What am I going to do here?" I asked, tiredly. "I mean, who knows how long I'm going to stay? I have nothing to do. How will I pass time?" I added a small whine to my voice.

"Do you fight?" he asked. Not the answer I was looking for.

"Yes, but I'm not really interested in fighting." My shoulders drooped. Did the whining not help? Did I look like some muscular boy to him?

"So you can't fight?"

"Of course I can," I said abruptly. Smoothing out my voice, I corrected, "I mean . . . I can. My father thought me, but I'm not that great," I covered up modestly.

He laughed. "Are you sure? You don't seem too skillful to me."

"What?" I said, taken aback. You should see me with my sword. "I'm no weakling."

"You were almost trampled by your horse." He bit back a smile.

"He became out of control. Something spooked him. That has nothing to do with being a weakling."

"You couldn't control him."

"I'm strong enough to hurt you."

"You're a girl."

My jaw dropped. "Excuse me? How dare you insult me like that!" He was asking for a broken nose.

"Prove it."And then I realized he was only teasing me.

"Alright," I smirked, "come here and I'll show you what a girl can do." He walked over to me, standing still.

I drew back my fist and punched him across the shoulder. He moved an inch, and then laughed out loud. "Is that all you've got?"