Assassin (Book 1)

TWELVE

 "Lift your sword like this and hold it an angle," Lance advised as I stumbled with the heavy metal object. "No," he reached out warmly to fix my grip, "like this."

Sad to say, I wasn't acting. I felt so disturbed I had no intention to train or hold a sword properly. Finally, Lance threw the sword aside in defeat, running a hand through his hair, exasperated. "You told me you were bad, but this is horrible. Hello?" he called, waving his hand in front of my face. "Your eyes are glazed over again."

I sighed miserably. "I don't feel like training."

"Why?" I didn't answer. His eyes softened. "Is this about yesterday?" I blushed. I could feel the heat crawling up my neck. Lance waited for me to answer, watching me closely.

"No." I was embarrassed. "I don't want to do anything. I just hate life right now," I mumbled, crossing my arms over my chest.

Lance raised his eyebrows, his green eyes amused. "What has life ever done to you?"

"Besides taken everything from me?" I slumped to the ground and started yanking grass up out of its roots. Lance sat in front of me. "I don't know."

"Are you sure that was life? Isn't that supposed to be death's job?"

"No, that's definitely life. Life is mean. If you don't live then you won't have to go through losing someone."

"Who've you lost?"

I almost replied, but I stopped just in time. I made a small sound in the back of my throat.

"Tell me."

I got to my feet, throwing a fistful of grass in his face. I started to walk away.

He laughed. "Do I have that much of an effect on you?"

I froze in mid-step.

"So he thought this one through." I muttered under my breath, and he raised his eyebrows.

"Excuse me?"

A blush crept up my cheeks. He wasn't supposed to hear that.

"You're red again." Xavier grinned. "Do I have that much of an effect on you?"

"Adalia?" Lance broke my train of thought. "You okay?"

"No," I breathed out. "No, I'm not. I have to go." I walked inside, my pace quick and desperate, ignoring Lance's calls of protest.

"I'm sorry!" he called. "I didn't mean to upset—have I said something wrong?"

I walked inside and slammed the door shut behind me, running up the stairs to my quarters, and there, I collapsed onto my bed with a groan. I'd been here too long. I was an assassin, not an undercover spy. Or was an assassin supposed to be a spy? I hadn't signed up for this. Then again, I hadn't signed up for killing people either.

I'd let so much of myself go. What was I thinking tearing up because of a memory? Like a child. I rolled over onto my stomach, a raging anger inside of me. And yet I still remembered the lemony scent of Lance's shirt.

I jumped up, yelling at the stool as I tripped over it. "Get out of my way."

I ran my hands through my hair with an irritated sigh. What was I doing? I had to get out of here. I felt so trapped. How long had I been here now? I couldn't even remember. I counted on my fingers, trying to figure out the number of days I'd stayed here.

Ten days.

My place was in the castle to work under the King. So why was I here? I'd spent three whole days sulking in my room and not doing anything. I was pathetic. I'd been here for more than a week and I hadn't accomplished anything, and that made me more miserable. I jumped back onto the bed and smacked my head against the headboard.