Be it luck, intuition, or years of paranoia, but I woke up just before the knife plunged into my heart. I saw it glint in the darkness and turned over, the knife embedding deep into my arm.

I bit back a scream and shoved my assailant off of me. The knife went with her. I sat up and threw the curtains open. In the dim moonlight, most people wouldn’t have been able to see, but I could see clear as day. Xico was on the floor, clutching a dagger, getting up, tears streaming down her face.

Her expression was a mask of rage and sadness, something I hadn’t seen from her.

I stopped, stunned, as she got up with the knife and tried to stab me again. I barely managed to dodge out of the way, the knife hitting the wall. I dove out of bed, knocking over a chair, and grabbed my sword from the wall. I picked it up and leveled it at Xico, who was trying to pull the dagger from the wall. The blade was stuck in, deep, and Xico couldn’t pull it out.

“I don’t know what I did, but I’m sure we can work it out,” I said.

Xico let go of the dagger and started to sob. I lowered my sword and slowly placed it back on the wall. I took a step toward Xico, then another, and another, until I was next to her.

I jerked the knife out of the door and put it outside of her reach before draping a blanket around Xico. I put one hand on her shoulder and sat there, awkwardly, while she cried.

“Should I make you some tea?” I asked and Xico nodded in between sobs. I stood up, pulled on some pants, and went to the kitchen. Don’t worry, I took the dagger with me. I left my sword, but it was a Hunter’s blade, forged out of Mythril, an ore more than five times heavier than iron. Xico didn’t strike me as someone with training in Hunter’s weaponry, so even if she tried, she wouldn’t be using it right. I figured it would be okay. Sue me.

In the kitchen, I realized I had no idea where Xico kept her tea leaves. Going through cabinet after cabinet, I opened a cupboard and, to my surprise, saw Char bound and gagged. She said something, but it was muffled, and after a second of just standing there, shocked, I came to my senses and cut her loose.

I took her gag off first.

Char immediately said, “Your landlady is trying to kill you.” Matter-of-fact, straight to the point.

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After a second, once she was free, I said quietly, “I know.”

“And you’re still here?!” she shouted.

I shushed her and said, “The neighbors. Come on.” Then, taking a deep breath, I said, “Well, she already tried. She tried to stab me, succeeded once. Got my shoulder.” I tapped my shoulder wound. Then, I tapped it again. It was sealed, cauterized. I hadn’t even felt it heal.

Char looked at me strangely but didn’t comment on the lack of a wound.

“So where is she?” she asked.

I pointed to my bedroom.

“Isn't that your bedroom?”

I nodded.

“Is she tied up?”

I shook my head.

Char growled and said, “Stay here.” I thought about stopping her but figured she wouldn’t hurt someone unarmed. Char marched over to my room, flinging the door open. I continued to search for the tea leaves.

I heard a lot of yelling and crying, the former from Char and the latter from Xico, before the two of them came out of my room, Xico wrapped in a blanket, holding it tight around her shoulders. Her eyes were red and puffy, and had a hollowness to them that unnerved me. It was an emptiness I'd seen before on soldiers. Those were the eyes of someone who has completely given up. Those kinds of eyes belonged to people who wouldn't breathe if their body didn't do it for them.

I poured Xico, Char, and myself some tea and we sat in silence for a minute.

Finally, Xico said, “I've been poisoning your food the entire time you've been here.”

I nearly spit out my tea. Char slammed a knife on the table and glared at Xico. I held up my hand and said, “Uh, what?”

Xico nodded and said, her voice empty and emotionless, “Lethal quantities of different poisons and substances. Your dinner tonight had a spoonful of cyanide in it.”

That explained the almond taste.

Xico continued, “I've tried all kinds of things, every meal. You never noticed. It never even made you sick. That's when I decided to do it the more direct way.”

Char shot me a nervous look and I knew why. Well, besides the obvious of my seemingly friendly landlady trying to assassinate me. She knew as well as I did that poison could kill Hunters pretty easily. Sure, it might take a slightly higher dose, but we'd die. And I'd been poisoned at least once a day, nearly every day, since I'd arrived at the Capital.

Hell, even if she was lying and it had only been tonight, a spoonful of cyanide would have been more than enough.

I buried my head in my hands, which rested on the table. What did I actually know about Xico? Just what she told me. And I obviously couldn't trust any of that.

After a minute, I sat up and asked, “Why?” My voice came out pained. Not angry in any way, but a bit desperate and lonely.

“I'm Armádan,” Xico said, her voice barely a whisper, “but my wife was from Sollia.”

The blood drained from my face.

In every Hunter’s career, no matter how long, they always have at least one job they wish they could've done differently. A child they didn't save, a monster they didn't kill fast enough. Me? I got an entire city wiped off the face of the earth.