The Assassin

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The Assassin


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She would never forget the first moment she’d seen him standing on the threshold. Straight dark hair, intent gray eyes set in a narrow, hawkish face. Lean and powerful, a thrumming energy to him as if he restrained a seething force within that he barely kept leashed. His every look penetrated the soul, bared every secret; his every touch brought with it a whisper of doom; his every movement slid through reality, elegant, graceful, and deadly. He spoke little, moved sparingly; he was still until action was necessary, quiet until words were essential.
This was the assassin who killed hundreds at the king’s behest.
The man she was to live with, spend every spare moment with.
The man who would train her to do the impossible.