The Assassin's Daughter: The Inheritance Proclamation, #1

By Jameson C. Smith

"Make them believe your loyalties are unquestionable…"

 

For most of her life, Katira has trained to take on the role of assassin. While it's far from the life she would have chosen for herself, the law known as the Inheritance Proclamation dictates that she must follow in her father's profession. At seventeen, she's on the verge of her first assignment and any day may bring the moment when she must use her training to prove herself worthy of her inherited profession.

 

When faced with new information about the past, Kat must choose between proving her loyalties in the life she's trained for or setting off in search of answers she may never find.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jameson C. Smith
• Release date: Dec 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386522348

Jameson C. Smith

Jameson C. Smith is a twenty-something Christian who has been in love with stories since she was a little girl. An ardent bookworm and self-proclaimed nerd, she enjoys writing, baking, and going on adventures.

Book preview

To my family:

Thank you

1

Kat closed her eyes and listened for the sound of leaves crunching in the stillness. A good assassin keeps their senses alert, Bayor always liked to say. To do the opposite is a sure sign of poor training or lack of skill.

Kat bit back a laugh at the mental image of Bayor giving the oft-repeated advice. While she couldn’t count the number of times she’d heard the words over the years, she could imagine the various tones and inflections he used when saying them.

Rough bark from the tree behind her scraped against her cloak. Again, she thought of the bad choice of wearing the violet thing out here. The dead leaves and bare tree branches offered no true cover now.

She released a slow breath, wincing at the too-loud noise in the relative stillness of the woods. Years ago she had learned the patterns of its noises and silence, knew when something was amiss, whether it was the sound of breathing or the snap of a twig or—

Leaves crunching.

Kat focused on the noise, waited for the repetition she knew would follow when her target’s other foot hit the ground. He was close, making more noise than she could have hoped for. Either he was getting thoughtless as the years passed or he was as tired as she was, and just as eager for a hot meal and a calm evening.

The steps continued, moving away from the tree.

Kat slowly leaned forward, pressing herself flat against the forest floor. With her bow gripped in her right hand, she used her elbows to crawl to the ragged brush pile and fallen log eight feet away. The improved vantage point would present a clear view of her target if his path remained the same as she anticipated it would be.

Something moved through the deadfall behind her.

Kat stilled, bit her lip, and turned to look over her shoulder. A squirrel skittered across the leaves and bounded up the tree trunk she’d leaned against a moment earlier.

Well.

She crouched behind the log and peered through the brush, down the slope where her target’s steps had ceased. Despite her attempts, she still couldn’t see him.

The cold air crept through her clothes and sent shivers across her skin. Her knuckles cramped from their hold on the bow. Maybe it was better to climb down the slope and just confront him face-to-face. Sunset was approaching and she didn’t want to be chasing someone in the dark.

She closed her eyes again and focused on the noise. A bird chirped somewhere in the distance. A breeze crackled through branches, ripping away the few leaves still clinging to them. She held her breath and heard her heart beating.

Leaves crunched and crackled again. A different footfall than the one she’d been tracking for so long.

Slowly, she lowered her right knee to the ground to support herself. Reached for the knife at her right side and tried to ignore the sting of the cold metal against her palm.

The noise ceased.

Kat closed her eyes, drew a deep breath—

A palm clasped over her mouth. Her instinctual scream caught in her throat.

Blast it! she whisper-shouted when the hand came away from her face. What the blazes was that for, Ed?

The familiar figure entered her line of sight and settled down beside her. Fragments of dead leaves and spots of mud covered his maroon cloak, his uniform, and his black hair. What mess had he gotten into?

I was going to inform you that he’s not there, he answered, nodding his head toward the slope. Do you hear him moving anywhere?

Doesn’t mean he isn’t there anymore. She returned her knife to its sheath and waited for Ed to continue. They’d sabotaged each other in this game before but she couldn’t help wondering how far he’d go today. Besides, I’m sure you’re lying.

He stretched one leg before him, tangling his foot in the undergrowth. You, of all people, should know when I’m lying, and I don’t happen to be doing so right now.

Oh, really?

A wide smile parted his lips. I can tell you where to find him. If you want, that is.

"I can find him on my own. You, of all people, should know that."

I’m quite aware. But considering I won last time, I just thought I’d offer my assistance.

Kat shivered in the cold wind. I didn’t ask for it.

A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.

Anyway, I already found him. She rubbed her hands together and regretted again that she’d forgotten her gloves. Ed’s raised eyebrow mocked her but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking annoyed. Instead, she peered over the fallen log again and spotted motion beside one of the trees down the slope. See?

Beside her, Ed twisted to see the figure. Not bad, Kat. You still have to make the shot, though.

She reached for her bow as he reached for his, taking an arrow from her quiver with her. She balanced herself against the top of the log, set the arrow, and took aim. The faded brown cloak had once been enough to blend with the surrounding colors but now it stood out against them, familiar and looked-for.

You sure you can make that from here? Ed asked.

She made no reply. Bayor was twenty paces leftward. She’d made more difficult shots before.

Can we get this over with? Bayor’s voice carried up to them. I could hear the two of you arguing a mile off.

Ed laughed.

Kat ignored him and loosed the arrow. It planted itself in the thick mud at Bayor’s feet.

Impressive, Ed offered.

Shut up.

He exaggerated his motions as he took aim and drew back the bowstring, biting his lip in concentration. An old habit.

The moment he released the bowstring, a sharp twang sent the arrow on its flight. It stuck in the tree behind Bayor, capturing the hem of his cloak on the arrowhead.

Showoff.

Ed got to his feet and offered her a hand. Don’t be jealous.

Bayor whistled. As lovely as this afternoon has been, waiting around on the two of you, I’d like to make it back before tomorrow morning.

Kat slipped her hood over her head and made her way down the slope to where Bayor stood.

Whose was this one? he asked as she wrenched the arrow free from the tree.

Ed’s.

Hm.

Ed sauntered toward them, picked up Kat’s stray arrow, and exchanged it for his before sweeping into a low bow. Wasn’t as easy as it looks.

I’m sure you cheated somehow. Kat slid the arrow into her quiver. After hours of practice, she was tired—that had to be why her aim was off.

I think you’re just jealous.

Bayor yawned. Shall we argue this back at the academy? I’ve got a long list of things to do and listening to your bickering isn’t a priority.

But it’s what you find so endearing about us.

Kat fell into step beside Ed.

Bayor, a few steps ahead, glanced over his shoulder at them. Is that what you tell yourselves it is?

The bait for the joke was old, as old as the jokes themselves had become. Still, they were some of her favorite things, keeping her mind off of the bigger issues at play behind every practiced motion. We all know I’m your favorite anyway.

"Kat, your delusions will only make things harder. I am the favorite apprentice here."

Bayor chuckled. "Actually, Edellion, I believe she is."

Betrayed by my own mentor. Ed slapped his hand over his heart and feigned surprise. Might as well try to kill me.

Sometimes I give that suggestion contemplation but then I think better of it.

Kat nodded and shoved Ed with her shoulder. That makes two of us.

2

Constructed of dark wood and gray stones, each familiar building of the academy greeted them in the glow of evening sunlight. Apprentices and students were scattered about the grounds—some in lessons, others in the few tasks that could be found for amusement in the little free time allotted—left under the watch of a handful of mentors.

Kat noticed she was slouching and forced herself to remedy the fault. Part of her earliest lessons had been on the importance of appearance—a person’s posture spoke of their character, their confidence, and their skills. Still, sometimes the sight of this place felt like the heaviest weight a person could carry and she felt was just too small to bear it as well as the others.

She parted ways with Ed and Bayor and began the short walk to her dormitory. She paused a moment in the empty foyer and peered through the doorway on her left, finding the den unoccupied.

With soft, quiet steps, she ascended the stairs. The long practice of walking without being heard was a difficult habit to break. Too often, she found herself sneaking through the dormitory as if she were a trespasser. After all these years, the rooms should have been familiar territory, should have offered some small level of belonging, and yet she still traversed them as she had the day she’d been brought here.

Laughter rolled from one of the rooms in the first hallway on the second floor. Probably some of the girls had gotten together to talk about the boys.

But who had time for such talk when the outcome was so dismal? To think of a future with someone in this line of work was costly. Hadn’t her own presence here proven that? It was her father’s profession—and the law—which had brought her to this place. Just like so many others walking these grounds.

She turned into the hallway on her right, counting from routine as she passed each door until she came to the second to last one on the right. The key turned in the lock as it always did before she returned it to her pocket.

The limited time between now and when she would be required in the dining hall would pass too quickly.

She pushed the door closed with her foot and removed her cloak, hanging it on its hook in the corner on the window’s left side. Her boots, in need of some repair but still sturdy, went under her bed, on the right side of the window.

She counted the moments while she stared at the small selection of clothing stored inside the wardrobe beside the door. Two more uniforms—white shirts, black trousers. A black knee-length sleeveless duster. Somewhere in the back was the only dress she’d owned since she was fifteen, but dinner wasn’t an occasion for wearing it tonight.

Unless the Heads had planned something else and chosen not to alert them all beforehand.

She exchanged her dirty uniform for one of the clean ones and paused in front of the tiny mirror mounted on the wardrobe’s side. Even her hair needed fixing. It wouldn’t do to gain disapproval over appearance.

She crossed the room and picked up the comb from the windowsill and worked her tangled hair from its usual braid, perching on the bedside to wrestle the comb through the strands.

Her mother had taught her how to fashion her hair into the simple three-strand braid she always wore. As a little girl, Kat would sit on the rug before the hearth while her mother combed and separated the strands.

Tucked away under those memories, she could still see Emmie in her crib on the other side of the room, beside her father’s chair. Some nights, he and her mother spoke in low tones about things Kat hadn’t understood then—laws and meetings about places she would only later be taught about. In hindsight, she could define the worry lines etched across her parents’ faces as they talked. But they covered them quickly with smiles and laughs whenever they caught her studying them, as if erasing the signs of worry banished the problem entirely.

The memory playing in her mind was so different than things were now.

As accustomed as she’d become to the small room and the expansive grounds of the academy, she could never think of it as home.

* * *

Ed entered the dining hall a few minutes later than he knew he should have. He had no excuse, wouldn’t bother to make one up if someone confronted him about it.  Despite all the possible consequences, he reveled in little displays of rebellion.

And in the event the whisper in the back of his mind proved correct, it was best to get his rebellions over with while he could.

Amidst the low, rushed conversations as everyone found their desired tables, he caught a glimpse of a familiar braid: dark blond strands coming undone from the confines of a fraying black ribbon. A slight tug on one edge sent the ribbon spiraling toward the dark paneling of the floor.

Ed! Kat chastised, bending to retrieve it.

Evening, he said, pulling out two chairs at the nearest empty table. Kat took the offered chair and set to work repairing her braid.

He took the other chair and waited for the quiet to settle over the room. Ignoring the other students and apprentices, he sought out the faces of the mentors. Currently only a few were in the room but all wore expressions more unreadable than normal.

Bayor stood at the opposite end of the room, talking with two other mentors. Ed couldn’t determine the subject of the conversation but the unease between the three adults struck him as odd.

Something wrong?

He brought his attention to Kat. No. Just trying not to think of food. Why’d you ask?

You looked like something was bothering you. Concern knitted her forehead. Something he saw more and more these days, to his dismay.

We can discuss it later, all right? He whispered the words, trying to move his lips as little as possible.

Whatever you say.

In the usual place?

If I can get away.

A sharp whistle brought their conversation to an end and brought order to the room. The only noises following it were the sounds of hurried footsteps and chairs scraping the floor. Once the din quieted, Headmaster Meril strolled to stand in the room’s center. He stood with his hands tucked behind his back. His dark, cold eyes searched the room.

Kat had once mentioned they reminded her of crow’s eyes, a description Ed had agreed was all too accurate.

Headmaster Meril cleared his throat and began. We have several apprentices who are nearing time to prove themselves on their first assignments. His voice faltered in its attempt to boom and echo throughout the room. Not that any person present would dare mention this. Tomorrow evening, those of age will be under observation while practicing the maintenance of an alias. I expect only the best.

He departed the room with a slight dip of his head. Silence remained in his wake.

Ed tried to catch Bayor’s expression across the room but failed. The other mentors wore unreadable expressions. If the Headmaster’s little visit hadn’t been a surprise for them, it probably hadn’t been one for Bayor either.

3

Kat stepped carefully through the knee-high grass, trying to avoid leaving a trail that would be too easy to follow. Hardly anything was more than shadow in the light of the sliver-thin crescent moon, but she’d walked this path more than enough times to know just where to step and stop.

Ed’s silhouette was almost invisible against the night-darkened backdrop of lake and sky. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming, he said.

I was waiting for a good time to sneak out. She lowered herself to the ground and looped her arms over her knees. I almost got caught twice.

Ed wrinkled his nose. They must keep a closer watch on your building than they do on mine.

They sat by the water’s edge without speaking. The cold air moved across the lake in ripples, distorting the sky’s reflection before them. Kat wanted to speak but found herself hesitant to do so. The announcement made in the dining hall weighed on her shoulders like a physical burden and threatened to push her down.

Whatever issues they had both come here to discuss, they were skirting it with delicate steps any dancer would have envied.

Did you notice the mentors? Ed asked.

I wasn’t paying attention to them. How could she have been? Once Headmaster Meril made his announcement, her thoughts took their own turns trying to guess at what they would be practicing if chosen. Sparring? Tracking?

Something seemed...off. I don’t know what it was but they were acting strange before Meril ever showed up.

Bayor too?

From what I could see. Granted, it wasn’t much.

Kat chided herself for not paying attention. Even Bayor would have been disappointed. I think he would have told us if he’d known. He usually does.

"Even if he would, it doesn’t mean he can. Ed rubbed his neck. He’s been acting different lately."

Has he? Had she really been so distracted? Or was Ed simply overthinking things again?

You really haven’t noticed?

She shook her head, even though he wasn’t looking at her to see it. He seems the same as he’s always been.

I noticed it a few weeks ago. He’s more nervous. He tries too hard to make it look like he isn’t though.

A beat of silence passed between them. The song of the cicadas, which had surrounded them only a few days ago, was little more than a faint hum over the breeze and rustling grass. Kat closed her eyes and focused on the sound. 

Had she missed something hidden underneath Bayor’s instructions and jokes earlier? Nothing in his behavior seemed different than usual.

Well, it’s probably— She swallowed the knot in her throat and tried again. "It’s probably because things are getting so