“Lellia,” said a tired, ragged voice. The old woman rushed into the bedroom and drew back the curtains, letting the sunrise beam through the window. Unsure of whether her ward was fast asleep or had finally succumbed to her self-imposed decrepitude, she shook the young woman awake. Though more than fifty years her junior, she had far less substance and more palpable bones.
“What is this?” Lellia asked, coughing and wincing. Waving her caregiver away, she blinked the thick film from her eyes and squinted at the sun. A wave of pity for her poor condition softened the old woman’s demeanor, but she spoke with purpose nonetheless.
“Someone will be here for you soon. A visitor. And you’d best be wide awake when they arrive. I’ll bring you breakfast.”
“A visitor? I’ve refused visitors for two years, what makes you assume I wouldn’t refuse one now?”
“I suggest you don’t refuse this one,” the old woman said. The corners of her mouth tucked themselves into deep wrinkles as her furrowed brows twitched with uncertainty. It was not often that she wavered.
“Who is it?” asked Lellia.
“They’ve asked me not to divulge.”
“It’s someone from the guild, isn’t it?”
The old woman said nothing and turned to leave.
“What do they want? Have they found out—”
“There was nothing to find out. Only a fool would have believed you ill, though you’ve withered away enough to have a convincing argument. You live because you’ve been under my protection. Remember that you come from a guild of assassins, not jesters.” She stepped away, the pat of her shoes echoing down the hall. Lellia sat frozen in her bed, her mind reeling, passing over every possibility for the motives of someone who would visit her. Worry settled into her gut and sunk lower with each passing second.
She chased her senses, closing her eyes to catch her short and troubled breaths first. Dust inflamed her nose and tongue with an unpleasant mustiness. Weakness overwhelmed her wilting body. She waited for a calm to pass over her, then reached for it and wrapped herself in it. When she opened her eyes, now somewhat centered, she traced the shadow of the window pane across the pinewood floor. The light made her head throb; she couldn’t recall the last time someone had opened the curtains.
The old woman soon returned with a tray of food. As she set it down, Lellia feasted her eyes upon a bowl of piping hot porridge with berries and a plate of bacon and eggs. Despite its simplicity as well as her agitated stomach, it called forth an appetite. To add to her delight, a cup of green tea sat at the edge of the tray, garnished with a black jasmine flower and tantalizing her with its fragrant vapor.
“Is this my last meal?” asked Lellia, half-joking to ease her suspense.
“It very well could be,” said the old woman, “If you choose to act unwisely.”
“You know what this is all about, don’t you?”
“Of course. But it is not my business. From the mouth of a retiree, it would be mere gossip to indulge you. Not to mention a breach of personal confidence.”
“A retiree, a mere bystander, yet you carry out the mercy order that’s kept me alive for the past two years. The guild’s rules do baffle me at times.” Lellia picked up her cup of tea and cradled it in both hands. “Thank you for breakfast. Let me know before you show my guest in.”
The old woman left without a word. Lellia sipped from her cup, letting the steam fill her nose. The dry sting of dust fled in an instant, overpowered by the floral aroma that awoke memories from the furthest corners of her consciousness. There, in a moonlit garden where black jasmine flowers adorned her mahogany braids, she found the pale gray face of someone she once knew. A silken dress, the same deep black as the flowers in her hair, flowed at her feet as they ambled across white paving stones. Arched trellises overgrown with ivy hid them from the world.
But the daydream soon soured when she reached out to grasp his hand. Someone had beaten her to it – a third presence when she’d assumed in all her naivety that they were alone. The other was far more beautiful, with voluminous dark hair, sun-kissed skin, and a contagious smile. She meant no malice, but this knowledge did not soothe Lellia. Feeling her appetite wane as it sunk into a pit of loneliness, she returned to reality before eating anything at all became a lost cause.
After breakfast, she found enough energy to brush out her hair and make herself as presentable as was possible in her sickly, unbathed condition. She’d just barely finished donning a clean shirt when a knock sounded at the door. Smoothing out the wrinkles in her clothes, she made her way over to open it.
“Are they here already?” she asked, assuming the old woman had knocked to notify her. The voice that responded, however, clear and crisp with a mischievous inflection, was one for which she could never have prepared enough.
“Am I early?” asked the visitor. “Take your time. I’ve got plenty of it.”
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Lellia held her breath as the shock of realization rippled through her body. It soon faded, and she choked out his name.
“Vethirn?”
“Who else?”
She had hoped for anyone else.
“What do you want from me?”
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know, once you open the door.”
Lellia lowered her hand from her chest. Her fingers brushed against the doorknob, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn it. The slight metallic ringing of contact did not slip past Vethirn’s keen ears; he knew well the sounds of her hesitation.
“Don’t overthink this, Lellia,” he said. “Toss out whatever inane presumptions you might have regarding my intentions. I’m here to talk.”
If there was one thing Lellia knew of Vethirn, it was that he never lied – to her, anyway. Not even for the purpose of sparing her feelings. For that to change in two years of her absence, however, was not beyond possibility. Still, as much as she wanted him to leave, to pretend even this much of an encounter never happened, inklings of doubt needled her. Were she to reject his visitation, she was well aware that he would not simply allow her to wither away in peace.
She opened the door, keeping her chin low and her gaze averted, wanting to hide. Stepping aside to let him in, she said nothing and waited for him to speak first. His eyes wandered the room, surveying every inch in contemplative silence. Moments of agonizing anticipation came and went, then he fixed his focus on her.
“You look unwell,” he said. “After two years’ worth of investment, I would hope for no less than a decent payoff. You always were ambitious.”
“Did you have a purpose for coming here other than to amuse yourself with backhanded remarks?”
“I did, but I would be remiss if I didn’t indulge in some of our old banter.” A smirk played across his lips. “You seem guarded. Are you afraid of an old friend?”
“Even in my current state, I’m not threatened by anything of your stature,” said Lellia, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve in a display of nonchalance. “Now, do tell me why you’re here.”
“I’d like to say it’s because I’ve missed you,” Vethirn answered. “But the truth of the matter is, you’re needed.”
“Needed?”
“Needed. As much as I hate having to humble myself coming to you, the guild is desperate.”
“You’re desperate.”
“Fine, yes, I’m desperate.”
“Very well. And what do you have to persuade me?”
“Your life, of course. I’ve rescinded your mercy order as of today.”
For the first time since his arrival, Lellia looked him straight in the eyes. Her brows furrowed in bewilderment, and her lips parted with disbelief. After a few moments of holding her gaze against his deadpan stare, she burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“You have rescinded it?” she asked with the first breath she could catch. “Forget old Velius and fuck everything else we know, right? You have rescinded my mercy order?” Before tears of laughter could start spilling out, she seized her composure and shook her head. Vethirn did not waver.
“Velius? You really have been kept in the dark – I’m pleased to hear that. Good old Velius disappeared two years ago, around the same time you had your little mishap, whatever that may be.”
“You can’t seriously mean—”
“You’re looking at the Tear’s acting guildmaster,” Vethirn said. “And with enough time passed that I’m in the preliminary stages of getting that pesky prefix removed.”
His words struck Lellia speechless, leaving her jaw to hang agape.
“Don’t look that surprised,” Vethirn said with a chuckle.
“No, no…” Lellia trailed off, relaxing her posture as she gathered her thoughts. “You don’t strike me as unfit for the job. I just never imagined Velius…”
“No one did. He left nothing but a vague note. It wasn’t forged, either.” Vethirn’s slight smirk faded as he recalled everything that had transpired. The tension between them melted in mutual sorrow for their once cherished guildmaster. “Above all the reasons I resented you, his disappearance left me filled with hatred. And then I hated you more, because after everything, the gods still saw fit that I would miss you. This visit does not come without sacrifice on my part. I had to swallow every last bit of pride and dignity I could muster.”
“What am I needed for?” Lellia asked, understanding her position. An uncomfortable prickle of guilt crawled under her skin. Were she to refuse him, she would die – and things would be better for it.
“King Arzaneld is dead. Murdered while he was visiting Ransvale. We were framed for the assassination and driven from our headquarters. Now we need to make things right.”
“Who would believe the guild would want anything to do with that?”
“Everyone, it seems. We were foolish enough to make deals with what turned out to be a dwarven extremist group that wanted to branch out here. Wanted to start by doing away with Arzaneld. They call themselves the Sun's Forsaken.”
“What deal did you have with them?”
“That Avara and I would provide aid at the source in Myskordan to facilitate their spread through the rest of Nelthemar. In return, they would stay out of Ransvale.”
“Did you know they were going to kill Arzaneld?”
“Yes. And I told them they’d be better off waiting until he made his rounds to Wyvern’s Rest. They’d have their pick of factions to blame there.”
“But none as influential yet intimate as Elyn’s Tear.”
Vethirn nodded. Elyn’s Tear had no roots outside of Ransvale, thus no one to set after the Sun's Forsaken if they dispersed. But they did have enough of a hold over the city that they were presumed to be the only ones capable of killing a king.
“They seemed genuinely well-intentioned,” said Vethirn. “The work they do for the dwarves in places where they’re a minority is admirable. Even some of their reasons for wanting Arzaneld dead – as much as he was liked – were persuasive. Not that I cared one way or another, until they decided to do their dirty work here.”
“And where do I play into all this? Why did you come back for me when you have active guild members who aren’t in such sad shape?”
“Because you were second in line to succeed Velius. Anyone can put on muscle with little trouble, including you. But while I don’t aim to inflate your ego, no one else has your repertoire of skills. Without us as a team, we’re doomed to fail.”
The two allowed for a mutual silence to linger as they absorbed an understanding of the new reality that lay before them. A begrudging acceptance. In his contemplation, Vethirn’s elven grace fell over his half-human visage. A pointed ear poked out between the waves of his hair, and his lips sat pursed beneath the angular tip of his nose. Lellia forced her gaze away from him before she wound up lost.
“Give me one night to gather myself and my things,” she said. “Then I will be at your aid.”
“Very well,” said Vethirn in response. “I’ll send someone to escort you to our new hideout. If you’re not there by sunset tomorrow, I will find you.”
Lellia nodded as Vethirn turned to head for the door. She said no more and watched as he walked away. When he approached the threshold, he hung back for one last remark before leaving.
“I look forward to working with you, Lellia.”