Name: Silver and Blood
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Chapter 1 The Red Dagger

They say death has a sound.

It's not a scream. It's not the gurgle of blood or the thud of a collapsing body. It's silence - the kind that hits when the soul leaves the flesh, like the air holding its breath.

That's what I heard the moment Lord Halric's throat split open under my blade.

His eyes widened. His mouth opened, searching for air or mercy. He found neither. I held his gaze until the light drained out, then let him crumple onto the velvet sheets already soaked in wine and sin.

The scent of blood was sharp and metallic. Too fresh.

I yanked the dagger free, wiped the blade on his silk sleeve, and turned toward the open balcony. My heartbeat hadn't slowed, but the real danger wasn't over. Not yet.

Heavy boots thundered outside the chamber doors. They were quicker than I'd expected.

I sprinted across the marble floor and vaulted over the balcony rail. Wind tore past me as I dropped two stories into the manor's courtyard. My boots hit the cobblestone with a solid crack that rattled up my legs. I rolled, came up running.

Shouts rang out. "Assassin!"

Torches flared behind me. I ducked into the garden's hedge maze. My breath steamed in the cold air, my cloak snagging on thorns. I didn't stop. I knew this route - I'd studied the blueprints for days.

Ten steps left. Duck through the broken fence. Past the fountain. Over the north wall.

Almost there -

Pain sliced through my gut like hot iron. I stumbled, gasping. My knees hit the frozen dirt.

"No - " I hissed through gritted teeth.

The curse.

I clawed at my tunic and yanked it aside. The skin across my ribs glowed with red-hot runes, jagged and writhing like living fire. The mark was spreading, veins of molten agony webbing across my chest and shoulder.

"Not now," I growled.

But the curse didn't care.

It punished blood spilled. It punished hesitation. It punished me - for what I was. Half-blood. Abomination. The result of a lycan's mistake and a human woman's bad luck.

Footsteps neared. Voices barked orders.

Through the pain, I forced my body up and threw myself over the wall. I landed hard in the frozen field beyond and dragged myself into the treeline. I lay still, face down in the snow, waiting. Listening.

They didn't follow.

It took minutes before I could move again.

I crawled beneath the roots of a dead pine and unstoppered a vial from my belt. The liquid inside shimmered pale green. Not a cure - there wasn't one - but it dulled the curse's bite. For a while.

I downed it in one gulp, coughed, and leaned against the trunk. My breathing slowed. The burn faded to a simmer. The runes still pulsed beneath my skin, faint now, like embers.

I reached into my cloak and pulled out the dagger - curved, black steel, etched with blood-runes. The Red Dagger. My signature. My shame.

Fifty kills. Fifty names. Fifty payments.

And still the curse grew stronger.

I waited until dawn to move. The forest whispered around me, frost clinging to bare branches like old ghosts. My legs ached, but I made it back to the city before the sun fully rose.

The guild waited in the cellar of an old brewery. No one looked twice when I slipped down the back alley and tapped twice on the rusted door.

Aric opened it. Scarred, half-blind, and always frowning.

"You made it," he grunted.

"He didn't."

Aric stepped aside. I moved past him into the dim stone corridor, torchlight flickering against the damp walls. The guild hall smelled like old wood, steel oil, and secrets.

Inside his office, I dropped the bloodied signet ring on the desk. It landed with a soft clink.

"Clean," I said. "No witnesses."

Aric examined the ring, then poured two glasses of dark liquor.

I ignored mine.

"You look like shit," he said.

"The curse flared."

He nodded, like that was routine. It was.

"You're burning through these contracts faster than anyone. But you're also burning out."

"I'm aware."

He slid a sealed scroll toward me. Thick parchment. Black wax.

I frowned. "Already?"

"You said one more. You want out? This is the last one."

I hesitated. My fingertips brushed the scroll. Something in my gut tightened.

Aric leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "You break the curse with this one. Or it kills you. That's the bargain."

I peeled open the scroll. The name written in dark, sweeping ink sliced through me like a blade.

Rael Valen.

My heart kicked once, hard.

The last heir of the Moonblood Clan.

The clan my father once served. The clan that cursed my blood when he ran from them.

I looked up. "You're sending me after a royal lycan?"

"The last one," Aric confirmed. "He's in hiding. Northern reaches. Traveling under false names. But our contact tracked him. You've got one shot."

My fingers curled around the scroll. "And if I fail?"

Aric's face darkened. "Then I'll put every blade we have on your tail. And the curse'll finish what it started."

I rose without another word.

As I reached the door, Aric called, "Kaela."

I stopped.

"He's not just a target. He's the key. You feel it, don't you?"

I didn't answer.

Outside, snow began to fall again.

I looked down at the name in my hand.

Rael Valen.

The mark on my skin throbbed-once, like a heartbeat.

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