Break Even

“You don’t want to live in a society like this, yet you don’t want to do anything about it!” His words cut through the air sharper than any knife she had ever experienced. His eyes were ablaze, and his face was darkened. The anger that radiated from him was causing him to pant, chest rising and falling heavily as he glared at her. 

Her eyes narrow slightly, teeth grinding a bit before turning her back to him once again, not bothering to respond to him. Instead, she kneels down, picking up the bloody pocket knife that she had been cleaning originally. “It doesn’t concern you,” she finally grits out, turning to place the knife back into the folds of her dress. “And even if it did, there’s no reason for you to be here, stalking me.” There was a venom in her voice, her own eyes flashing dangerously as she looks up to him from her kneeled position.  

It was one thing for her to be scolded about what her actions were, it was another for him to outright yell at her about her decisions. Besides, at the end of the day, a job was a job, and that was something she was trying to do. A job. 

The male stops and a frown forms on his tinged pink cheeks. He was aware she was right, that this whole matter didn’t concern him. However, it was one thing for him to just allow her to run off, and another for him to try to keep the tiefling to stay in one place for once, not running around the countryside slaughtering whomever the highest bidder asked her to. “I know that, but you’re running again!” He retorts, anger seeping back into his own words and expression, the sheepishness having expelled itself from his features. 

“I’m not running, I’m working,” she responds coolly, her vibrant red eyes turning back to cool pools of ice, allowing her anger to melt away and turn into nonchalance instead. “And tonight’s paycheck depends on the head of that damned Elliott. He’s eluded me one too many times, and that’s not going to happen again. I’ve been prepping for this sting operation for months now, making sure all of my ‘ducks’ were in a row, or whatever it is you humans say.”  

He steps forward, “Kallista...” he begins, only to have her turn to face him, that dangerous look of the assassin returning to her sharp features. “Don’t.” she growls, turning and slipping into the shadows before he could even finish his statement.  

The air was still heavy with the confrontation, and he felt the world slipping away from him once more. He didn’t understand the tug of the criminal world that the princess felt. And he certainly didn’t understand why she would prefer to do that than attend the luxurious balls and banquets. It was foreign to him, why she was so insistent on stirring up trouble. She had money in the bank, even as a tiefling she was still a princess, and she never had to want for anything.  

And yet, she was hell bent on performing whatever the Band of Ash requested of her.  

“We found her, Master James,” the gentleman in the red coat panted. His clothing was tattered, and he looked as if he had been in an unfair fight. “She lives in the mansion at the top of Ash Hill,” he continued, leaning over, hands resting on his thighs as he takes a break to catch his breath. 

James paused, his brow arching a bit at the mention of Ash Hill. “You mean the mansion of Mallice? The mansion that houses the Band of Ash? That’s ridiculous,” he spat back, turning and pacing in front of the picture window. “How could she have ended up there? She was left at the nunnery!” His tone pierced the air, and then his fists slam against the wall to the left of his window. “They told me they left her at a nunnery...” 

The other man continued to stand bent at the waist, regulating his breathing. “That’s where she is, though, sir. Or, at least where she was. She caught us and...” he glanced to his tattered clothing. “Well, sir, there was a bit of a scuffle between us as we caught her and brought her here. She is in the foyer, headed to the grand staircase.”  

“She’s... where?” James seethed, turning sharply and lifting the other man up by the collar. “You brought her here?! After a fight?! The tiefling?!” He threw the other man to the ground again. “I cannot believe you would do such a thing! We were only to watch her and see where she was! Not bring her here!” 

Kallista moves slowly through the trees, staying well hidden in the shadows. Her appearance was a hard one to disguise, especially the crude and twisting horns that were on her head, and the orange tint of her skin. But, even then she was able to convince those around her that she easily tanned, no matter the season. It was a trade she had learned, and it was something that she would continue to utilize over time.  

She allows her thoughts to wander back to James and their obvious disagreement in the idea of her work. She felt that he was being too overbearing. She had been abandoned as a child, and the Band of Ash took her in, training her to become the lethal weapon she is now. Her own blood knew what she was, and she didn’t want to pretend that she was more than a callous, ruthless, cold-blooded killer. That was what she had become over the years, and the knowledge of her being a royal was something she didn’t want to even admit to. 

Of course, she had tried her hand at it. Her lifestyle was far more boring than she had ever experienced, even when she was training with the “best” and always being better than them. Assassin work wasn’t honest, she would admit to that, but she definitely would not admit to the fact that she didn’t enjoy it either. It was all the tiefling new, and she refused to allow someone she didn’t know come in an dictate her life choices.  

“You don’t want to live in a society like this, and yet you don't want to do anything about it!” His anger flooded her memory, and she frowns a bit at the words. Of course, she wanted out of the criminal underworld, but that was honestly all she was aware of. It was all she knew, and she couldn’t help that fact.  

The room was grandiose, silver and gold swirls were decorated on every object. Her eyes landed on the man in front of her, and she couldn’t help but pause. She didn’t recall this place, but at the same time she felt herself drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. But that wasn’t right. She was nothing but a street urchin, living with the Band of Ash until it was time for her to become one of the assassins to the elites. The ornate staircase was larger than any she had seen, at least double the size of the one in the Band of Ash’s mansion home.  

“Do you like it?” A voice called to her, her gaze once more landing on the gentleman in front of her. “It is your home, after all,” he continued, a gloved finger running down the banister. She could see the small pile of dust that had accumulated on the tip, but she was too focused on what he told her.  

“Mine?” was all she could muster, a shake of her head at the thought of it. “Highly doubtful, sir. I’m a tiefling, not a royal.” She knew this to be true, Mallice had told her that was the reason he had taken a liking to her and allowed her to become a part of those he trained in assassin work. “An assassin at that, so tell me one good reason you shouldn’t die at my blade,” she finished, a glower forming on her face as she spoke.  

A laugh emitted from him and he shook his head, lips turning upwards in a half smile, and yet it was obvious the laugh was forced. “Because, my dear Kallista, you are the heir to the throne. Riches beyond your wildest dreams are here for you,” he responds, waving a hand to show off the room once more. “This is just the beginning of your palace.” 

She scoffs, the memory of their first meeting fading from her mind. James had called that abandoned building of crumbling blocks a “palace”. The dilapidated mansion that the Band lived in was closer to a mansion than the broken bile of bricks of Crenwelge Palace. It was as abandoned as that of the Russian czars when the revolution happened. Just because he had prettified the inside didn’t make it a grand palace.  

Her boot cracks a twig, causing a bit of a rustle in the bushes behind her, but she simply stops, standing still, as if she were a statue. Her eyes reflect the moon beams, and suddenly she felt eyes on her. She smirks a bit, turning to face the person behind her. “Elliott,” she coos, smiling to the man in front of her, piercing blue eyes under the fringe of hair. “So nice of you to stop by...”  

Elliott steps from the shadows, tsking at her before stopping a few feet away. “You’re losing your touch, Kal,” he responds, his voice soft as he stares at the tiefling. “Your disguises are even easy to see through now. It’s a shame, you know. My most formidable foe, so hard to track, and even harder to trace a simple hair out of place, now so easy to confront. Tell me, Kallista, are you tired of running yet?” 

She feels her blood boil, and her eyes narrow once more turning into the angry shade of red. “I am not running, you imbecile,” she snarls, her blade flipping out, a small and deadly extension of her fist. “I am doing my job. My job is to gain your head and put it on a platter.”  

This comment musters a chuckle from Elliott, his sapphire gaze glinting with a hint of malice in the moonlight. “I see... is that what you’re telling yourself now? That your place is to be the most notorious assassin for the elite? To murder and behead anyone as long as you get some coin, princess?” The last word curls around her mind, a boa trying to squeeze its prey.  

The room was smaller than a bedroom, but larger than a closet. She was told it was a “dressing room”. She didn’t understand why she needed a bedroom and a dressing room, but that was the way she had been told. The Mahogany furniture gleamed in the candlelight. The hand maid that was with her was gushing over “Master Elliott” and telling her how handsome and charming he was. But Kallista knew better. She was aware of what he truly was. Her thoughts were interrupted by shrill sounds of women. 

“Princess, you must come out and show us the dress that he bought you!” A voice squeals from the other side of the door. “Yes! Please show us what Master Elliott has given you for your hand in marriage!” another voice chimes in, causing Kallista’s stomach to churn. 

With a hefty sigh, one that she shouldn’t have taken due to how tight the corset was, she stepped out of the dressing room and looked to her handmaids. The dress was deep blue with a hint of emerald green. It shimmered in the light, and she found herself staring at the mirror, almost gawking at the sight in front of her. Her fingers move up to touch the bodice, the tight fabric causing her breasts to be tightened to her body. “I can’t breathe... I’m taking it off.”  

The women groan behind her as she makes her way into the dressing room again. She unlaces the corset swiftly, gulping for air once the crushing fabric has released its hold on her. She stops and looks in the mirror. Her horns had been meticulously hidden. “Master of disguise...” she whispers to herself, her canines glinting in the candlelight.  

“I’m not a princess,” she grits out once more, changing her stance only slightly as the two begin to circle each other. “I never have been, Elliott...”  

He tsks at her again, shaking his head. The half-smile on his face was reminiscent of James, and their first encounter. His black hair reflects the moonlight, and she catches the glint of the brass wrapped around his fingers. Two could play at this game. “You could leave this life you know,” he comments idly, his gaze never breaking from hers. “You could go be the royal that the country needs. Be the royal you were born to be...”  

She inches closer to him, the two less than a foot away from each other as they continued their dangerous circling, eyes locked. “I tried that lifestyle, Elliott. Even you are aware of that. And now you sound just like-” her words stop short, and her eyes flash once again. “Just like James...” she mutters, her defense falling only slightly. 

As soon as her defenses fell, Elliott made his move, the brass knuckles clicking as he releases the blade and aims for her side. She manages to dodge, this time, but he nicked her, and blood was beginning to trickle through the torn fabric. “James? Oh, you mean the man that was hopelessly in love with you?” The raven-haired man inquires, head tilting to the side as he watches her. It was odd for him to see her in such a state that she lost her focus. “Well, here’s hoping he learned that he couldn’t save you from the underground.” 

A huff escapes her as she turns to look at him, eyes searching her lost lover’s face. “His world and mine are far different, Elliott. That is why you and I have so much in common. We’ve been playing cat and mouse since I was ‘recovered’ from the mansion. But you’re right, I was never going to be saved from the underground.” Her tone was icy, and her eyes flash the dangerous red once more. Her disguise was melting away, revealing the twisted horns. Her height is elongated by another four or five inches, putting her at just over six feet. Her hooved feet push through the leather of her boots, and her dress rips as she grows. “I’m a mere tiefling, sent away by parents that did not know how to care for me. However, you my friend, are going to learn to keep your mouth shut.”  

Elliott scoffs, but within a blink of an eye, her dagger was through his heart. She watched the color drain from his face as he realized within his last fleeting moments, that he had indeed walked into her trap. And this time, it was he who would not be leaving.  

With a groan, she looked over to her reflection in the mirror. It was disastrous trying to hide her horns. The magic that barely flowed through the partially tainted blood could hardly mask her eyes, let alone the seven-inch, twisted appendages on the top of her head. “Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll find Elliott and kill him too.” The words flowed from her lips easily, and she knew that this was going to be her way out of pretending to fit in with the other royals.  

“Are you sure you’re willing?” A voice responded, causing her whole body to tense up. She knew that this was going to be a hard task, but she had to prove herself as an assassin. Even if it meant pretending to be a royal, something that even she was not able to pull off completely. Dressing the part was one thing, but acting it was completely different.  

“I’m willing,” Kallista responded, her words cold as ice as she turned to look back to where the voice came from. The figure was cloaked, and they had disguised their voice. She was sure of that.  

The hooded figure nodded, and tossed a bag of gold coins to her. “These are for accepting the deal. The rest will come when I have his head. Do not mess this up, Kallista, or you will suffer more consequences than even the damned souls of your ancestors will.” 

She stops a moment, taking in the sight of the man at her feet, her disguise slowly coming back. A frown on her face is the only emotion on her face. She glances up to the sky and then back to Elliott. “Time for the beheading, then I can leave this god forsaken place behind. Looks like I finally did break even.”