Friend or Foe

For the Throne Of Glass competition- August is an assassin, who's sister in in chains. She'll do anything to save her sister, even murder. But then things get complicated when a boy she meets steals more than her assassination, but her heart as well.


3. Bleeding dawn

The sunrise was made of blood, the skyline was streaked with red. Death hung in the air, the whole town buzzing with the murder of Lord Wilson. I watched out of the window of Marco's 'safe house', which was basically just an abandoned house he had access to. The rooms were bare, the wooden floors creaky and the only water was cold. I was longing the moment I got to leave. I had taken off my cloak, and wrapped the head in it so I had my flimsy leather jacket and light T-shirt to keep my torso warm. My brown hair was done up in a bun on the top of my head so it didn't get in the way. I could have left, but I was curious about the letter that Marco had gone to send to Lucas Sanster. I wanted to know what the bandit king was playing at sending two assassins on the same mission. But at the same time, I wanted to get back to save my sister. Willow was nine and defenseless. She was all I had left in the world. And I would get her back. I whirled round as the door opened and Marco stepped in, shrugging off his cloak. 

"I sent the letter, but I don't know how long until we get a reply. We have to stay here, its the address I put on the letter." Marco said, pulling a loaf of bread from his bag and throwing half to me. I caught it and sniffed the scent of fresh bread. We ate in silence, wolfing down the food. Until Marco spoke, "You're from the city aren't you?"

 I nodded and he asked, "What's it like." His voice was eager for answers, why was he so interested.

"Its..... different." I said, playing safe, "You've never been?" That was clever tactic, changing it round so he had to answer some questions

To my surprise, he was open, "Nope, I've lived in the outer villages all my life. I met Sanster in one of the city towns outside the city. That's as close as I've ever been."

"Who trained you?" I asked and he shrugged, "My father hired a retired assassin to come train me. What about you?"

I shrugged, "When my parents were murdered, I trained myself."

Marco whistled, "Is that why you're the best assassin in the land?" 

I laughed, "Everyone's good at something."

"My grandma taught herself to sew and now she does clothes for the royals." Marco said in a matter of fact tone. I giggled. What? How was this stranger making me laugh? It made no sense. I scowled and looked at Marco, who in turn was watching me.

"You don't have to fight yourself." He pointed out, "You're allowed to have a little fun once and a while."

"Having fun means you make mistakes." I said, "And I do have fun, but not in times like this."

"Why?" Marco asked and at once I realized I'd said to much because I could see his brain calculating behind his eyes. But i sensed that Marco hadn't manipulated me to say too much, he just generally wanted a chat.

"How did Sanster hire you?" He asked finally, his hair falling in front of his eyes.

"My sister." I whispered and then kicked myself, what was I doing?

Marco's eyes narrowed and he looked angry, "See what I mean, Sanster is a cruel man."

"I know." I said, "But I still have to work for him."

We sat in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of life bustling by outside.

"You should sleep." Marco said, "You've been up all night and all day, I'll wake you later."

Even though he could have killed me in my sleep, I didn't believe that the boy I'd grown to know would do that. So I followed his advice and lay down to rest, hoping that dreams wouldn't disturb me.

 I jerked awake as Marco shook me. I bolted up, reaching for my knife until I saw Marco's face. Outside, the sun was setting, I'd been asleep for hours.

"What?" I asked him.

He answered, his face smug, "We're going to have some fun, come on?"

"Where?" I asked, biting my lip.

"Its a secret." Marco whispered, leading me towards the door, and for once, I didn't stop to think.

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