“That’s why I’m here.”

“All right. How do you want to do it? Kill them when they’re together or pick them off one by one?”

Valek mulled it over. He doubted he could pull off killing three men unless he poisoned their water. Too easy a death. Only a knife stabbed in their guts or slit across their throats would satisfy him. “One by one.”

“It’ll take time. Kill one and the garrison will beef up security while they search for the killer. Months might go by before they relax enough for you to get to another one.”

“Unless I find a night when they are each alone. I could kill them all, and by the time they’re discovered in the morning, I’ll be long gone.”

“But what are the odds they’ll be by themselves at the same time?”

“Slim. I could follow them when they’re out collecting taxes.”

“But what if they go in three different directions? That’s a lot of ground to cover. And news spreads fast.”

“I’m not going to get all three at once, am I?”

“I think you just figured that out.”

“Best to get who I can, then wait. There’s no rush. I know who they are.”

“Now you’re thinking like an assassin. And in between, you can earn money and experience doing other jobs,” Hedda said.

* * *

Lieutenant Fester would be the first man Valek assassinated. As he waited for the perfect opportunity, he carved a statue, transforming the ugly gray rock into a black figure with sparks of silver. His chance came a week later. No squads were due to arrive that night and Fester had just returned from a long sweep.

After finishing his stable chores for the night, Valek lay on a stack of straw bales and waited for Reedy and the Stable Master to fall asleep.

The soon-to-be dead man had headed straight to the garrison and, Valek hoped, to bed. The lieutenant frequently complained about the uncomfortable travel shelters and run-down inns the soldiers overnighted in, and each time he returned home, he made a beeline for his own bed.

The ragged snores from the Stable Master’s room at the far end of the stable soon joined the soft nighttime noises of the horses. Valek slipped out the window of the empty stall he shared with Reedy. The boy didn’t move.

A half-moon provided enough light for him to navigate the compound even though he stayed hidden in the shadows. He wore all black, and once he was well away, he stopped to cover his face and hands with black greasepaint. The air held a chill. However, by the time he reached the main building, he’d sweated through his clothes.

Leaning against the wall below Fester’s third-floor rooms, Valek pressed a hand to his chest, willing his heartbeat to slow. Emotions jumbled together, clouding his thoughts. Fear mixed with anger. Hate churned along with trepidation. One thing to think about killing a person, quite another to do the actual deed. Could he?

He focused on the image of his brother Vincent lying in a pool of his own blood and intestines. Vincent’s expression frozen in surprised pain as he clutched his stomach. His skin as cold as the snow underneath him. The echo of Vincent’s laugh thumped in Valek’s heart as the memory of their mother chasing them after they’d knocked down her clothesline full of sheets. Neither one of them could resist the lure of fresh, clean sheets blowing in the breeze. Stealth tag had to be played despite stern warnings to keep away. And that time a rowdy collision led to a collapse. They’d bolted and hid behind the shed until their mother had cooled down.

Vincent had been fifteen when Fester’s sword cut him down. Their mother had held Valek back as his brother staggered to the snow. Her fingernails had pierced his shoulders, drawing blood. Small half-moon-shaped scars still marked his skin.

Valek pulled in a breath.

Lose the emotions.

The man murdered his brothers. Justice would finally be done tonight. And experience gained for the ultimate goal—the King. Pushing the fear, doubt, hate and anger away, Valek drew icy determination into his heart.

He scaled the wall to the third story, slid the window open and paused, listening. The creak of a bedspring and sleep mutterings sounded from the bedroom. Valek eased into the room. The dim moonlight outlined a bulky shape beneath a blanket. He grabbed his knife, advancing on Fester.

By the time Valek reached the bed, his heart rate had returned to normal. With one quick hop, Valek knelt on Fester’s chest and pressed the blade against his fleshy throat.

“What the—”

“Shut up and listen,” Valek said in a low voice. “Do you remember the tanner’s sons? Three boys, Vincent, Viliam and Victor? Ages fifteen and seventeen-year-old twins?”

“Look—”

“Yes or no?” Valek cut into the skin. Blood oozed.

Fester hissed in pain. “Yes.”

“You missed one. Sloppy.”

“Orders.” Panic sharpened his voice. “I was under orders.”

“To murder?”

“To make an example out of them. The blizzards had been so bad...no one in Icefaren wanted to pay their taxes.” The words tumbled from his lips in a rush. “Boss said the King needed his money and we had to show them what would happen if they didn’t pay.”

“He targeted my family?”

“No. Just said to pick—” Fester realized his mistake. “I didn’t—”

“What’s the boss’s name?”

“Captain Aniol.”

“You should have told your boss to go to hell.” Valek sliced deep into the man’s throat.