Kara: PrologueA Chapter by Melissa R.Kara: Prologue
The house was dark as I slipped calmly through the
window that led to the first floor sitting room. The complete lack of guards
outside had made my job easy so far. I squinted as I scanned the room seeing the
outline of couches, lamps, and tables letting my eyes adjust. Silently I crept
along the wall of the sitting room carefully avoiding any furniture on the
ground and the paintings on the wall. Thankfully the moon was full and its
light provided some help as it streamed through the windows of the house.
Stealthily I left the sitting room as I entered the foyer. There was an ornate
staircase that curved along the wall. The banister top was marble but the steps
were wooden. Carefully I placed my foot on the first step slowly putting my
weight on it. The step was sturdy and made no noise. I swiftly ascended the
stairs until I was almost to the top. A step creaked and I froze, tensing. My
ears listened for any sign of movement. No sound came and I decided it was safe
to continue my ascent. As I walked down the hall of the second floor I could hear
snoring behind the first door. Stopping briefly I pressed my ear to the door.
There were two distinct sets of snoring inside. The Ambassador’s twins were
fast asleep. Satisfied, I made my way to the next door. This was the Ambassador
and his wife’s bedroom. Gently I placed my hand on the doorknob and turned
slowly so as not to rattle it. I held my breath as the door swung easily on the
well oiled hinges, making it silent. Peering into the dark room I waited for my
eyes to adjust. Slowly I could make out a four poster bed with only one body
lying on it. It was the Ambassador’s wife. Cursing in my head I closed the door
carefully and looked down the length of the hallway for a clue as to where the
Ambassador was. A soft beam of light flickered under a door at the end of the
hallway answering my unasked question. Wasting no time I covered the distance
to the door in a few strides. Once in front of the door, however, I took a
moment to prepare myself. Taking a deep breath I opened the door. The bright light from the gas lamps assaulted my eyes
and I had to squint. It was a few seconds before I could see the room clearly.
The two side walls were lined with bookcases bending under the weight of the
books in them. In the middle of the wall opposite the door there was a
fireplace with embers still glowing in the grate. Leaning against the mantle
was Ambassador Marx. He was staring into the fireplace so all I could see was
the back of his head. His hair was greyer than the last time I had seen him.
Marx had not heard me enter and he continued to stare into the fire. I let the door click behind me when I shut it.
Ambassador Marx turned with surprising alacrity. He froze in shock as he took
my appearance in. I knew what he would see. I had carefully orchestrated my
look for years. In his eyes I was reflected: a woman covered in all black
standing straight and powerful. He would only see my eyes since I wore a black
veil that covered the lower half of my face. This was to ensure my identity
remained hidden during my missions. I delivered my line, “Ambassador, your blood is
wanted for crimes against the state.” Ambassador Marx sighed and every wrinkle in his face
seemed to sigh with him, “I was unaware that the state sent assassins in the
middle of the night to collect criminals. So tell me, who sent you?” I bristled against his first statement, but his
question was a common one I heard along my missions. It never worried me to
tell them exactly who it was that sent me because they would never be able to
tell anyone. I never missed my mark. “Ambassador Gorelli of the capital city, Hearlot.” Then Ambassador Marx did something quite unusual that
I had never encountered in my countless missions; he laughed. I didn’t let my
confusion show keeping my face and eyes impassive. “That old crow finally caught up to me then, did he?” I didn’t answer. Instead I lifted my hand and undid
my veil. It was my way of showing respect to those I was about to kill. By
revealing my face, they could die with at least the knowledge of who had killed
them. If Gorelli ever found out he would probably kill me himself. He did not
take lightly to his wards disobeying his strict rules. “It’s getting late Marx and I’m tired,” I said as I
brandished my dagger, its gold glinting in the lamp light. “Not this can be
slow and painful or we can make it quick. You choose.” I always gave my missions the opportunity to fight
for their lives. Secretly I wanted them to. Most just sat there waiting for
their death. It made my work very dull and frankly I couldn’t understand how
someone could give up their life so easily. Ambassador Marx eyed me carefully as he said, “I
think I won’t fight. I’ve had enough of it.” I sighed as I looked at my dagger, twirling it. “Shame,” and with that I flicked my dagger. © 2015 Melissa R.Featured Review
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2 Reviews Added on March 23, 2015 Last Updated on March 23, 2015 Tags: teen, young adult, fantasy, romance, action AuthorMelissa R.AboutHello, I am in my early twenties and I have been writing what I call stories since elementary school. Writing is an escape for me and my imagination to relax and let loose. I rarely let people read w.. more..Writing
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