The Assassin's Twisted Path Read online

  “He didn’t choose to be a cat,” Roark said.

  “No, he preferred your body, but thankfully, dearling, you haven’t been lax in your training. I only have one question: why were you not armed?”

  “He was lonely, and I was too. Byronia was never unarmed; I should’ve taken her example,” Roark said.

  Alana put her arm around his shoulders. “I’ll take Edar home. There may be a cure, there may not be, but your sister has a gentle heart. She’d keep him safe, and little Saray will ensure he won’t be lonely.”

  “I could snap its neck.” Eohan stared at the kitten with hate. “If this is truly Edar Candlewick’s soul, let it roam the Realms for eternity.”

  “No,” Alana ordered in her calm way. “Edar can’t hurt anyone in this form, except maybe the page of that book.” She picked up the kitten whose little teeth had created a hole in the paper. “Do one of you boys have a ribbon or a bit of string on you?”

  “A bit of string?” Eohan growled.

  Kian rolled his eyes. “It’s a kitten, Han.” He pulled the ribbon from his hair and let his shoulder-length locks fall. He dangled it in front of the kitten’s face. The kitten pounced on the edge of the fabric—as kittens were known to do. Roark wondered if Edar was still in there or if the soul which was the kitten had taken over.

  Eohan slammed the book shut. The kitten hissed and jumped from the table to Roark with his tiny claws expanded. He stuck to Roark’s tunic and crawled upwards. Roark unstuck him from the wool and held him in his arms.

  “Why are you defending Edar Candlewick?” Eohan roared.

  At first, Roark believed his friend’s anger was directed at him, but Eohan shoved his finger towards Kian.

  “He bought you off a slave block and sold you for a silk suit!” Rage rose up Eohan’s strained neck to his cheeks, but Kian sat straighter and matched that fury.

  “I’m not defending him. This is just one of Lady Alana’s stupid tests. Besides what happened, happened to me, not you. I paid the price for this life you love so much.”

  Eohan’s eyes opened wide as if Kian had slapped him.

  Roark glanced at Alana. Her thin-lipped expression told him the two brothers quarreled before and most likely would again.

  “Eohan, dear, calm yourself,” Alana said, “This kitten bares the soul of the man who bought your brother. Every soul goes somewhere. We don’t punish for the sins of a past life. For which we should all be glad. I’ve transgressed many times and so will you.”

  “But he didn’t go through the Water of Resurrection,” Eohan shouted. “Roark put him into a jar and then into that creature.”

  Though he stood a head taller than their venerable master and outweighed her by ten stone, she fixed her icy eyes upon him. “You’re to care for this kitten. If I hear so much as a whimper of pain, I will dismiss you. A War Ender never loses their temper.”

  “I told you it was a stupid test,” Kian muttered and shook his head. He gently took the kitten from Roark’s hands. “Edling will be fine.”

  “Edling?” Eohan asked. “Good gods, when will this end?”

  “It’s a cat, Han,” Kian said. “If I can let my hate go in order to think clearly, so can you. Edling is just a kitten.”

  As if to prove his species, the kitten mewed.

  •

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’ve written about the history of The Chronicles of the Martlet, so I won’t repeat myself too much except to say The Assassin’s Twisted Path was part of my first rewrite. This is one of the reasons it seemed to come out so fast. In the series, this is the first book that I knew from beginning to end.

  As always, first of all, I would like to thank my darling husband for always believing in me.

  I would also like to thank my editor, Joe Dacy II.

  I would like to thank my writing groups for believing in the project and to thank my friends at Two Hour Transport, since I started reading this novel aloud before it was edited.

  I would also like to thank my fans who support my endeavors. Whether I know you online or from a convention, without you none of this would be possible.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Much to her chagrin, Elizabeth Guizzetti discovered she was not a cyborg and growing up to be an otter would be impractical, so she began writing and illustrating stories. Guizzetti currently lives in Seattle with her husband and two dogs. When not writing, she loves hiking and birdwatching.

  ALSO BY ELIZABETH GUIZZETTI

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