as merciful as a beheading.”
Edmund felt his confidence growing. Oh, he was plotting and he intended to win.
“It’s about my sister. I have to get her away from a Scot before he breeds her.”
The assassin raised one eyebrow. “How’d he get her?”
“The king has a soft spot for him and allowed him to wed her.”
That did it. The man narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “Even a king shouldn’t play favorites. I’ve seen too many men dead in battles that were commanded by noblemen who had the ear of the queen. Good men. Friends of mine.”
Edmund smiled. “Then we are agreed?”
The assassin fingered a long scar that ran down the side of his face. “Double the price and I’ll make it fast and clean.”
Edmund slid a folded parchment and a torn piece of McQuade tartan across the table. “Don’t forget to drop this on me when you stab me. And remember I’m hiring you to make sure you don’t kill me. Be very sure that I’m leaving a letter with a reliable source should you make a mistake and kill me.”
“I’m a businessman. You shall receive what you paid for: a wound that looks as though you were lucky enough to escape murder.”
“Good. Drop that letter and plaid on me once the deed is done. It will pin the blame on the Scot. He’ll be the one in the Tower and my sister will be a widow before next spring. Once I declare it was the Scot that tried to kill me, the king will have no choice but to have him executed.”
Edmund looked around the tavern. It was the sort of place where men kept a sharp eye on anyone who walked too near them, but beyond that they ignored every face and expected the same in return. No one had names here, and no one was ever remembered being in the place.
It cost a pretty piece of gold to ensure it, too. Edmund didn’t care. He dropped a full pound on the bar in front of the proprietor and never looked behind him. He was confident in the power of money.
The assassin watched him leave. He tapped the table with a finger, contemplating the job. Oh, it was nothing more than a job to him—one that would net him a purse that he could labor for a year and not earn at some sort of decent duty. It wasn’t his responsibility to instill morality in the men who came to him looking for murder. He was just the instrument. He wasn’t a murderer. The men who paid him were the ones stained with that crime. It was a truth that he was merciful to their victims. He killed them swiftly, most of the time before they even saw the knife. There was no fear, no terror. Not all of his clients liked that aspect of his service. God had blessed him with a steady hand and keen wit that helped him decide how to get the most profit. There was no killing if the silver wasn’t there. It was up to him to make his way with the gifts his creator had given him.
It was only a job.
Chapter Ten
“Helena?”
Raelin McKorey gestured with her hand.
The courtyard was a mass of noblemen and servants. Intermixed with them were the royal guards, along with retainers. The king was happily showing off his downed buck while stableboys hurried to take up the reins of the noblemen who dismounted without any care as to what happened to their mounts.
Keir wasn’t that sort of man. He took care of his own stallion and Helena’s mare. His men were shouldering their way through the crowd to get the animals into the dry stable. Rain was still falling and the dark sky promised that it would not be a quickly passing storm.
“Helena?”
Raelin stood under an archway. She frowned at the sky and fingered her golden silk gown. It would spot if she ventured into the sprinkling rain. But Helena was happy to see her friend. She ran to join her, grasping her hands but being careful not to brush her skirts up against Raelin’s maid of honor dress. It was a sure bet the gown was expensive and her family would not enjoy replacing it due to foolishness.
“I’ve been thinking so much about you.”
Her friend searched her eyes but frowned when she looked at the purple bruise still marring her face.
“It’s much better now.”
Raelin narrowed her eyes and tugged her into the hallway to place some