Mask of Shadows (Untitled #1)(59)

Four would’ve stood a chance if I’d not poisoned him.

Fifteen hoisted Four higher, large hands around his throat. I couldn’t find an opening, not with Four struggling like he was. Fifteen’s eyes were blown out, the pupils too wide to be natural, and he slurred every word, running his accusations into each other.

Spy. Liar. Murderer. Could’ve been any of us, but why was he going after Four now?

Four might’ve almost ruined everything, but he didn’t deserve this. Fifteen was too far gone for a decent kill.

I shot forward and sliced Fifteen’s arm. He tossed Four into a chair easy as anything and swung at me. I stumbled back, knife flying from my hand.

Four shrieked. The shattered remains of the chair crunched under him, splintering into a hundred pieces sharp as knives. Fifteen didn’t turn to me, didn’t even wince at the muscle-deep gash in his arm. He only picked up a chair. I tried to stab him again, but he swung the chair at me. I ducked behind him, nicking the soft skin on the back of his calves. He swatted me away like a fly.

Fifteen slammed the chair into Four. The ornate wood shattered, breaking off in Four’s unprotected legs and raised arms. He cried out, and I slammed into Fifteen while his guard was down, jabbing the backs of his knees. He stumbled out of the way, grabbing a servant for support.

Emerald moved faster than I could follow, clearing the table and burying a knife into the back of Fifteen’s neck. He crumbled.

Good. Done.

I dropped to my knees before Four. “You look ready for nightshade.”

“Bit late.” He laughed, the rasp filling my head, and nodded to his legs. His left one was torn open, groin to knee, by jagged wooden splinters, and a ribbon of blood streamed down his calf. His fingers trembled in his lap. “Beaten by a chair—original.”

“Shit.” I pulled off his sweat-soaked mask so he could breathe. He wasn’t handsome, but he was something—strong nose broken countless times, black eyes hazy with poison, and bushy eyebrows drooping. “Didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Doubt anyone meant for that to happen.” He waved weakly to Fifteen’s corpse and grabbed my hand, grip weak and dying. “You were supposed to leave.”

“I played a dangerous hand and won.” I glanced over my shoulder, but the Left Hand was unmoving and silent. Just another auditioner dying.

“You’ll have to tell me about it next time we meet.” He reached for me, hands trembling, and fell short. “I didn’t want to watch it—not after seeing Three dead. You’d have liked her.”

“That all it took for you to get me on probation? You get squeamish over seeing people die?” I settled down next to him and shrugged off my servant’s jacket, tucking it behind his head. Bleeding out wasn’t the quickest, but it wasn’t the worst. I gently tugged his hands into mine. “You shouldn’t have come here, invited or not.”

I was unsure of what to do in the face of his death. I’d wanted revenge, but I couldn’t keep the chill from my chest.

“Probably not, but it’s hard to turn down those invitations.” He wheezed. “I’m not sorry I tried to disqualify you. I didn’t mean to like you, but I did, and seeing folks die hurt worse than I thought it would. I don’t really give a lick what happens to any of the others, and Two can take care of herself, but you’re—”

“Not a sibling of yours to protect. Not even a friend.” I wanted to be Opal just like he did. “You want me to get Two?”

I could only see gaping servants through the door, but Two and the rest couldn’t have been far off.

“Think I’ve annoyed her enough for one lifetime.” He smiled and coughed, blood speckling his crooked teeth. “Five years.”

“What?”

“Took me five years to get this good. Two did it in three. Show off. Course, she’s got the best motivator.” He pressed his satchel of throwing knives into my hands. “She hasn’t missed a target as big as you since she was twelve, so start practicing.”

“I’ll do it in two years.” I tucked them into my pocket, squeezing his fingers.

He snorted. His head fell forward and his fingers fell limp. I sniffed and squeezed his hands again, but he didn’t respond. The pulse fluttering in his wrist stopped, and his shallow breathing ceased. I laid his hands across his chest, wiping the blood from his hands. He was still warm, still smiling.

He might’ve only been sleeping.





Thirty-Four


“Well,” Ruby drawled, footsteps drowned out by the chaos in the hall. He leaned over my shoulder and cocked his head at Four, words whistling through his mask. It made me shudder. “That was nice of you. For someone so bitter, you’re not big on plucky revenge.”

“He recanted.” I pulled the nightshade extract from my pocket and shook the vial. “It’s not worth it.”

Ruby took the vial and pocketed it. “Because killing doesn’t bother you.”

I nodded. I’d never killed before auditions—all those people I’d robbed and fought could bounce back from boxed ears and a few missing jewels—but I wasn’t killing because I liked it. It was a job. Eight, Seven, and Four had all signed up to die, and we all knew the risk. We’d agreed to serve Our Queen in any way she saw fit. We were keeping her on the throne.