Arya keeps her eye on the blonde-haired boy seated two tables to her right. He’s flashing a lot of coin, drinking his fill and feeling up whichever lady he chooses. She wonders what he did to make the Jarrah brothers angry. If it wouldn’t ruin her reputation as the perfect killing machine she’d let him walk out of the Tawdry Tavern in one piece, mostly to spite Malich. True to his word he’s mastered the art of acting as if she doesn’t exist, even when they’re in the same room.
Truth be told, she was surprised he’d given her this charge. She assumed he’d keep her locked away in the alumni training camp hoping she’d slowly start to lose her mind and give in. She’s not giving in. Not now, not next turn or next term, never. It isn’t in her nature.
While Arya brooded over her relationship with Malich, she caught the attention of some of the regulars. Two males sat down beside her, flanking her on each side, trying to get a glimpse of her face beneath her cloak.
“I’ve seen a lot of faces around here, but you, I have not seen,” the male seated to her left spoke first. Arya kept her eyes on the stein in front of her, tracing its lip with the pad of her index finger. She didn’t bother responding. She was too busy tracking her charge’s movement.
“It’s impolite to ignore good conversation girl,” the male seated to her right added.
Her charge moved to a table closer to her where several men, at least five others, were drinking themselves into a stupor and pawing whatever waitress flitted by.
“Do you know what we do to girls like you?” Lefty leans closer. He has one firearm at his hip and a dagger in his boot. Arya glanced at righty and concluded he was equally as armed.
She hated guns. Only cowards used guns, and yet every patron within the Tawdry Tavern wore at least one. This was going to be interesting.
“Hey! I’m talking to you!” Lefty shouts at her.
All eyes are on them now. So much for being discreet. Arya knocks back the remaining contents of her glass and takes a deep breath. A quick glance in the mirrored wall behind the counter where the liquor is kept and she sees at least three obstacles in her way to completing her charge. She likes those odds.
Righty rips the hood of her cloak from her head and she kicks the chair out from underneath him, sending him crashing to the floor. Her charge takes one look at the mask covering her face from her chin to the bridge of her nose and makes a run for it.
Shit…
Arya looses three throwing stars in the air just as Lefty attempts to put her in a chokehold. He’s impaled by the blade in her boot in one swift kick that went behind her head. His blood sprays from his skull and he slumps to the dirty wooden floor. Dead. A stiletto greets righty’s neck, severing his trachea and his spine simultaneously.
Whirling around towards the door, Arya watches as the throwing stars hit their mark and her charge goes tumbling out the doors of the tavern into the night. He rolls over onto his back and backpedals away from her before her boot pins him to the ground.
“Please don’t kill me,” Charge begs. “Tell his majesty I will sell him my lands.”
Arya narrowed her eyes at the frightened man. That’s what this was about? Land?Then it dawns on her. Kahlem is using force to gain what he wants and using Malich’s army to do it. Malich won’t care, but she does. She doesn’t want to lift a finger to help Kahlem or his reign of tyranny. Arya removes her boot from the man’s chest and yanks him to his feet, shoving him into the dark alley beside the tavern.
“I have no interest in taking the lives of hard working men, but I cannot leave here without a consolation prize. If you value your life, sell your land to Malich Jarrah and disappear, for good. Do not return or the next time I find you I willkill you.”
Charge began groveling at Arya’s feet, thanking her for her kindness and her mercy. “Don’t thank me just yet,” she replies, grabbing his hand and hacking off one of his fingers. It has a blue sapphire ring attached to it with diamonds in the form of his families crest. Charge cries out in pain, grasping his damaged hand with his good one. Sticking her sword in a fire pit nearby Arya cauterizes his wound. “Go, do not go home and do not broker the sale of your land yourself. Find a boat, get on it, and start a new life somewhere else.”
Charge nods and scurried off into the darkness. Several minutes after he leaves, Arya has second thoughts about letting him live. Malich is going to kill her. Or perhaps he’ll see how ingenious her plan is.
Arya heads back into the Tawdry Tavern and toss a few gold coins on the counter. “For your trouble, courtesy of Malich Jarrah.” She exits the Tavern and heads back to Malich’s palace, if you could call it that. At the moment, the alumni quarters were a better living space. His brother’s were arseholes. She couldn’t imagine growing up in a house with brother’s like that, although Alara wasn’t any better. At least his brother’s hadn’t slit his throat and left him to die…yet.
Arya walks up to the palace to hand over evidence of the completion of her charge as she’s done several times, only Malich’s guards won’t let her in. She has half a mind to level all of them and walk in anyway. The head guard, Upir, notices the look in her eyes and shifts nervously. “We don’t want any trouble me dame. We’re just following orders.” Malich’s orders.
Arya nods. She won’t punish them for doing their jobs. It’s Malich she wants to punish. Backing away, she pulls at the fabric of the world and winnows. It takes her a while to find the familiar life force she’s hoping to confront, but there he is, buried in an office at the far left wing of the second story. She winnows right into his locked office and he doesn’t even acknowledge her presence. He’s good at that. She waits a few minutes but he never takes his eyes off of his work.
Frustrated, Arya walks around his desk making sure to sit on top of the work he couldn’t pull his eyes away from and places her foot between his legs, her boot blade swinging out a hair away from his cock. He doesn’t even flinch.
Slowly his eyes trail up to hers. Malich sighs, leaning back in his chair. His eyes flick from the blade close to the organ he favors to her face. She sees a challenge in his eyes. He’s daring her to try it. His arms are resting on the arms of his tufted, high back chair, gripping the curved ends with his fingers. A light flickers in the far back of the room. It’s the only sign of his irritation.
“You know I hate being ignored,” Arya holds his gaze.
Still nothing. He just sits there silently watching her. His calm, cool demeanor is driving her crazy. She’s anything butcalm and being so close to him now makes her want to rip his clothes off.
Arya removes her boot from the space between his legs and slides herself onto his lap. Malich stiffens and swallows hard, trying and failingnot to have a reaction. She tucks her charges bloody finger into the pocket of his overcoat, bringing her eyes back to his. Her hand slides from his pocket; lower…lower…loweruntil she grips a handful of his hardened resolve in the palm of her hand. His fingers grip the curved ends of the arms so tightly that his knuckles have gone white. He’s holding his breath.
Arya dips her hands down into his pants and he firmly grabs her by the wrist, shaking his head. It’s the first reaction he’s had, and he’s stopping her from doing what they both know he wants. Malich’s lightening zaps at her, and she jumps off of his lap. It’s yet another silent message to her that says he won’t be seduced until he’s ready. Arya curses.
Regaining his composure Malich asks, “Have you done what I asked?”
“Why would you push me towards someone you don’t want me to want?”
“Because I know you. I know the possibility of what could have been will scrape at the back of your mind until you explore the possibilities, and ifwe marry, I don’t want any surprises. I don’t like them.”
He’s right. Arya sighs and sits on the edge of his desk. If he wants her to explore her relationship with Ihsan, she will. She needs answers as much as he needs reassurance. “Fine. I’ll leave tomorrow at dawn. Have you found the historian for me?”
“Not yet.”
“He’ll need a Magus. I can’t have the old fart dying on me before I get a chance to look into that brain of his.”
“What is it that you’re hoping to find?”
“Answers. He told me my parents’ names were Fayrah and Cassian Vale. They’re still alive somewhere and I’d like to find them. Also I’m hoping he can lead me to Alara.”
Malich bristles. “Promise me that if you find her you won’t engage without the proper backup. In fact, why don’t you take the General with you? I can spare him for a turn or two.”
“Consider it done, but when I return I want this to end Malich. I don’t like being ignored or discarded.”
“You’re spoiled, that’s not surprising.”
Arya narrows her eyes at him and smirks, “I supposed I have you to thank for that.”
“Guilty as charged,” he returns her smirk. “Hurry back to me and I’ll show you exactly how much I’ve missed you.”
“I look forward to it.”
Another zap of his power has her leaping to her feet. He chuckles. “Next time, do as you’re told. I have a protective detail for a reason, and you were bannedfor a reason. Must you be a rebel all your life?”
“It’s who I am. Besides, you like it and we both know it.” Malich pulls the bloody finger out of his pocket and sets it on the desk in front of him, reminding her, “Sometime in the near future someone will come to sell you a piece of land. Buy it whatever the cost. You’ll thank me for it later.”
With that last bit of information, Arya makes a vulgar gesture with her finger and winnows back to the alumni training camp.
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