Prompt for July 30, 2016

Complete the short story/flash fiction, that has the following opening:

Guildmaster Arith leaned back in her chair projecting an air of disdain. She could tell that it was unnerving to the other occupants of the room as they were convinced that they had given her the information that she needed, that she had demanded. And while they had, she had no intention of letting them realize that they had. Appearances were important and she needed to give the appearance this she was in control, not them.

She looked at the group of men facing her – trusted compatriots all – and wondered if they were committed to her, or her money. She’d wager that the money would win in the majority of circumstances, but it wasn’t a wager that she wanted to win. She shifted her leg slightly, not enough for the group to notice, but enough to give her leg a brief reprieve from the dull pain of the knife wound that still hadn’t healed properly. Curse that damned assassin! If it had been a professional he would have used a clean knife or even laced it with poison if he was unsure of his skill, but this one … Bah, a lone wolf, a cheap mercenary picked up on the docks for a small bag of silver. His knife was dirty and the wound he managed to inflict had become infected and festered for a few days before Marina had returned to help her out.

It pays to have a healer nearby and if that healer is your sister you’re more likely to trust them. She had sent Marina to track down the source of the assassin before she knew that the wound had been infected. Her skills in persuasion only exceeded by her skills in healing. It was amazing what information you can could gather when you took someone to the point of death, healed them, and took them down the same torturous path. She got the information she needed and when she got back she healed her. But the wound would not heal completely and Marina was both shocked and surprised at her lack of ability in this area. So much so that she had withdrawn to the library for days, searching for the underlying reason for the wound to still be red and sore.

But that would have to wait, for revenge was the first order of priority and she preferred hers to be in person. She rose with a smooth motion that belied her tender leg and stood tall and straight. Her eyes a glittering violet that reflected the flickering of the light in the candlelit room. “Gentlemen,” she said, her voice a warm contralto that felt like honey. “Tonight we seek revenge against those who plot against us. Tonight we fight not just for revenge, but for the right to rule this city. The leaders of this city have attacked us, albeit in a clumsy fashion, and it is time to exact revenge upon the simpering fool that runs the capital.”

She leaned into the group. “Let’s go kill ourselves a prince.”

Post a link to the story in the comments.


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