Assassin of Curses: (The Coren Hart Chronicles Book 3) by Jessie Eaker (best novels in english TXT) 📕

Not for the first time, I wondered why my father had forced this on me. Forced me to be part of this group of children and receive such brutal training. The Emperor’s Butterflies, as we were called. They said we were special, and we should be honored. But from the way they treated us, it didn’t seem that way.

I couldn’t understand what I had done to deserve it. I couldn’t have offended Father. I had only met him the one time, and he didn’t even know who I was. And I certainly didn’t pose a succession threat. I was so far down the line that it was laughable. I wasn’t even suitable to be some allies’ concubine! Even the relatives on my mother’s side refused to acknowledge me.

The only reason I could think of was due to the scandal my mother had been involved in. Maybe it was to punish her. Whatever the reason, I would likely never know.

But one thing was sure about the Butterflies. Once entered, there was only one way out.

“Hold!” came the shout of the referee.

I jerked myself back to the present.

The red seeping through a slash in one of their shirts caught my eye. It was just a flesh wound—nothing serious in of itself. My eyes slid up to the boy attached to the injury. Duong was his name. He was always joking and made us smile, even though we tried not to. But now, his expression was hard and full of anger. I could see his lower lip tremble.

The victor was named Weisheng, and he gave no expression, merely moved to attention with his sword lowered. I was close enough that I could see a drop of blood run down its razor edge and gather at the tip. I couldn’t help but watch in horror as it dripped to the floor. My eyes wouldn’t leave the spot. It looked so red.

The two boys bowed to each other. They turned to their seconds and bowed again, extending the swords to them on the flats of their hands. The seconds received the weapons in the same manner before turning and presenting them to the masters.

Relieved of their swords, the two combatants once again faced each other and bowed. Despite his win, Weisheng looked like he was going to cry. But Duong shook off his earlier anger and gave his opponent a confident smile before turning with head held high and walking out of the room. For a moment, Weisheng swayed, like he might run after him, but he held firm and then went to his place and kneeled with the other victors.

“Fumiko! Jiaying!” announced one of the masters. My heart pounded in my chest. Now it was my time.

We stepped out onto the floor. When we reached the center, we briefly faced each other before bowing. Jiaying avoided my eyes. As I looked down, I couldn’t help but notice the spot of blood on the floor, perfectly round, and so, so red. For some reason, it made me shiver.

Rising, I turned, and our seconds brought over our weapons—highly polished steel, the kind some ladies of court used for a mirror. It was hard, smooth, and cut like a razor.

I bowed to my second and took the sword in my two hands before turning to face my opponent. We bowed again, and then for the first time since stepping onto the floor, we looked into each other’s eyes. I guess I knew her better than I thought. Her gaze held nervousness, yet also a fierce determination. Many years ago, I had thought of her as my twin, and as we stared at each other, I knew it was true. Her eyes mirrored mine perfectly.

I had sparred with her many times before. She was good. Very good. The best in our group. And in one way or another, this would be the last time we fought together.

We moved into our opening forms and waited for the signal. I felt a bead of sweat run down the side of my face.

“Go!”

And we moved.

We swung at each other. No holding back. The sharp clang of our swords coming in quick succession. Forward, back, left, right. Moves so fast, they were hard to follow. She feinted, I countered. She attacked, I defended. The muscles in my arms and legs, conditioned over many hours of practice, responded before the thoughts could form in my brain. Our deadly dance was horrifying. Yet, it was beautiful. I noticed my opponent’s smile. And to my horror, I smiled back. Her movements were graceful, beautiful, an honor to behold. In that moment, I loved her. My sister. My twin.

But perfection could never last. We were after all, just young girls. Our limbs grew tired. Our concentration began to break. A slip had to occur. As we drew to our conclusion, I knew I couldn’t let her die.

“Hold!”

We each froze instantly in place and took a step back. I cut my eyes to my left arm and the new rip in my sleeve. Red was seeping through it. My stomach knotted. Had I made the right decision? Was I about to find out what lay beyond the sorting?

A hush fell over the room. Not even the spring breeze dared break the silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the masters quickly gather and begin to whisper among themselves. They hadn’t called a winner.

I looked across to Jiaying, and she stared back in wide-eyed surprise. The reason was easy to see. She also had a cut on her arm in nearly the identical place as mine. It appeared we had wounded each other at exactly the same time.

I understood the consternation of the masters. This could not be a coincidence. It had to be arranged somehow, and it took great