22 Hostage

"I...Every...one..." The fallen assassin spluttered as he gasped for air, white foam gathering in his mouth. "Everyone...wants you dead..."

"I'll give you one last chance." The Northern King's knuckles turned a shade whiter. "Who sent you here?"

His intonation was flat, and his voice was not loud. Yet, Daphne thought she could feel the ground quake beneath her as he said those words.

"No...one…I am…the messenger of…the people."

From the Northern King's trademark smile, Daphne could tell that he would make the poor man suffer a much worse fate than death.

His grip suddenly relaxed, and the limp man dropped to the floor in a cloud of dust, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth as he tried to gulp in breath after breath of fresh air. A boot landed at the nape of his neck, and he didn't need to look up to know it was that of the very man he thought he had killed mere moments earlier.

Daphne's heart grew cold with disappointment.

But her skin grew even colder as she felt a swift gust of wind.

She dared to veer her head around to come face and face with another assassin.

His long sword was pressed flush against her skin.

He was much younger than the other ones, no older than thirteen. His eyes were wide with fear, and she realized that he had been watching the rest of his group from the trees until now. His fingertips subtly trembled, and Daphne could feel the air slightly vibrate from around her.

He didn't immediately plunge his sword into her throat, instead looking into the distance as if waiting for further instruction, only to find none. His eyes flickered from her to his leader sprawled across the floor.

Daphne assessed the situation, the gears in her mind whipping into action. He was not going to directly kill her. If he wanted to, she would have been long dead already.

"I also want him dead." Her voice was assured, without as much as a tremor. "Let me know your plans, and I will help you kill the Northern King."

He looked at her closely for a few seconds, as if assessing her credibility. Suddenly, he thrust the dagger even closer to her neck, forcing a small squeal out of Daphne as she could feel a thin wound across her neck.

"Run away and report back to your true master." She tried to calm her breathing. If she had lived through a night beside the Northern King, no kid was going to take her life. "Let me live, and I'll help you from beside the Northern King. You also saw how he didn't die, didn't you?"

The boy blinked, his thin lips drawing into a straight line. "I'll trade you for my leader."

"You need my help. Tell your master that I am willing to help his cause."

She took in a deep breath.

"But you must tell me who you're working for."

He blinked again.

"If you don't tell me, how will I know who to help in the future?"

The boy gritted his teeth before squeezing out a string of words, "I don't trust you. I'm going to trade you for my leader."

She could almost laugh at the idea of the Northern King willing to let go of his hard-earned prey for a mere pawn like herself. This child was truly naive, not well-suited to live the life of a cold-blooded assassin.

"He won't trade. Even if you were asking for a mere animal in return for my life, he will not make the trade."

"We'll see."

She felt a sharp jab of pain in her right arm.

Daphne screamed, hoping that the Northern King would not take her to be crying wolf this second time when the last time cost him the fight.

Almost as soon as he heard her voice, he turned to look at her. The moment his eyes met hers, she almost felt touched.

Almost.

His expressions grew cloudy, and he signaled for his archers.

What seemed like a thousand arrows were soon pointed toward her, and she could already foresee her fate as a porcupine writhing on the floor in pain.

Daphne screamed again, hoping that her cries of horror would make the Northern King reconsider his sentence.

"Let go of her." He said coldly.

"Let that man under you go." The dagger dug a tinge deeper into Daphne's skin, and a bead of blood rolled down her neck.

"I won't repeat myself again."

"Please, help me!" Daphne cried, the line between her acting and her true emotions slightly blurring. "Just let the man go!"

The Northern King seemed utterly unmoved by her grief-stricken eyes, not even moving his boot by an inch.

"That woman is of no use to me." He turned around. "She's a mere consort. Little boy, do you know what a consort is?"

He looked Daphne straight in the eye.

"A consort is a woman who lives for her man's pleasure." He lightly shook his head. "But this one can't even pleasure me in bed."

He shook his head, motioning for the archers to pull their drawstrings even further back.

"So just flee if you want to. I feel no pride in killing a boy barely out of his mother's womb. Tell your master that he is a coward who can't kill me no matter how hard he tries. Tell him that he has to try harder next time."

The boy's grip on Daphne tightened as he pulled her in front of himself as a meat shield.

"Run away. Tell your master to send me a symbol of a moon when he accepts my offer. He'll know what a good offer I'm making." Daphne muttered under her breath, trying not to move too much so that the blade wouldn't cut into her flesh even more.

The boy hesitated.

"The Northern King will not make a trade for me." She said bitterly. "He will make sure that you die alongside me."

An arrow shot straight at Daphne's head.

The Northern King had taken a bow within his own hands.