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smaller force and were pushing in, with short sharp thrusts. Dagosh made one final lunge for the king, his blade glancing off the fuck’s cheek, as a blade from a guard found his stomach. Dagosh fell to his knees, clutching the blade. His eyes faded in and out of vision. He saw the young king walk up to him and smile.
    The young noble face, perfect teeth and sense of right.
    “Looks like you failed, old man. Nice try, though,” the king said.
    Dagosh looked at the small little boy pretending to be important and laughed. through the pain.
    “What’s so fucking funny?” the king said, pointing his blade at him.
    “I have friends and they are all much better at this than I was.”
    The king thrust his sword, his fine blade entering the old soldier’s heart, with a smile still on his face.
     
    ***
    Moving through a battle was like swimming upstream, only with a knife in your hand. Josette dodged a hastily thrust blade from a man old enough to be her father. She got close enough to smell his breath and thrust her dagger deep into his unprotected underarm. She shoved the man backwards and followed his falling body into her next victim, a young boy trying to load a crossbow. She shattered the bridge of his nose with a sharp downward hit of her dagger, lucky him. She must be getting soft. He fell back clutching his face as blood gushed from his broken nose.
    Dagosh was as much like a father to her as anyone. She’d do as he asked one last time. As they rushed at the king’s men, he’d pushed her hard in the back and said, “Find her.”
    Find her she would. Josette cut a bloody path to the keep doorway and beyond. The fighting had extended inside and she sidestepped the battling bodies with ease. She entered the Keep and ran down the hall to see two men flanking either side of the open doorway. She didn’t slow down, but jogged on, drawing her second dagger and switched them to her backhand hold, so the blade ran the along the inside of her forearm.
    The first lunged at her. She dodged spinning, slashing her blade down the length of his arm. Her other backhand blade plunged deep into his heart. He dropped with blood spraying her face. She laughed as she turned to the next. He looked terrified. The man actually dropped his blade, turned his back and ran. Josette flicked her dagger in the air, catching its tip and tossing it hard. The man toppled face first, the point catching him hard in the back of the skull.
    Josette whipped the blood from her face and entered the library. It had been Elizebetha’s sanctuary. Now it was a ruin. Books pulled from the shelves, ripped, torn and laying in piles. Surely, they intended to burn the lot. She turned and saw the body. Elizebetha lay on the floor. Her face distorted and ugly from the choking. She’d seen bodies like this before and knew the signs. There were deep red marks around her neck. Her old master had liked choking her. She knew well that feeling of terror, wondering if this would be the time he didn’t stop, feeling the breath inside you slowly running out.
    Josette crossed her legs like a child and sat beside Elizebetha and stroked her hand. “You’re at rest now. No one can hurt you anymore.” She was surprised that tears actually welled inside of her and she started to cry. What the hell was this? Did she really care so much? Of everyone she knew, Elizebetha deserved this the least. She knew it was true that killers lived and the innocent didn’t. Being better at fighting was better than not deserving death.
    The sounds of battle outside the hall were growing quieter. She soon heard a final shout from the king and knew they were lost, that Dagosh was gone as well. Her life had no anchors, not anymore. Josette stood and ran to a bookcase still intact, she moved a book from its position and before the room could fill with more people than she could kill, she slunk into the hidden passage. He might have killed Elizebetha and Dagosh, but they had trained her well and