The Woman Who Came to Kill
Leon’s voice sliced through the darkness like a knife. "Who are you?"
The hooded woman did not stir. Did not utter a word.
Tension sat between them, thin and wiry.
Nova’s gaze fastened onto the figure. Her breathing was calm, but all her muscles were taut, prepared to strike. The warm vibrancy of the market—the laughter, lights, and lingering heat—had disappeared, leaving behind only echoes. That heat was now a memory.
This moment was for something colder.
Her hand hovered near her belt, fingers twitching toward her blade. Her heartbeat stayed calm, but her senses sharpened to a razor’s edge. Whoever this was had followed them without a trace—until now.
Leon’s jaw tightened. "You have three seconds to answer."
The dagger still trembled where it struck, half-buried in the dirt. The glint of its blade had faded, yet the air had already turned dense with tension.
Leon didn’t blink. He remained immobile, eyes fixed forward as he waits for response and silence coalesced between them.
Nova changed position, green eyes narrowing. Instinct pushed her into defense, her weight centered, all muscles tensed. Behind them, the bright lights of the Moonspire night market faded into a silhouette of darkness.
A silhouette stood in the narrow distance—sheathed in darker than midnight blue, the hood low over her head to cover her face. And still, Leon and Nova could sense her presence—cold, intense, unyielding. A gust tickled the hem of her cloak, and the glint of silver thread: alien runes embroidered with careful care.
And then came the voice—Even, but authoritative. Unhurried—Gentle, feminine—rang across the narrow distance.
You do not have to know my name, Duke Leon," she stated, her voice distinct in the quiet. "You just have to decide. Once you’ve decided, I’ll reveal who I am."
Nova’s brows furrowed. Her hand strayed near her dagger. Nerves screamed every part of her body.
Leon’s face clouded. "You toss a dagger at my partner," he replied coldly, "and then want to play games of guessing?
A low, husky laugh came from under the hood.
"Mmm. Such a precision does become you, Duke," she said, moving forward with poised restraint. "Very well. I’ll make you a plainer offer, then."
She hesitated—just long enough for the stillness to tauten like a knife.
"There are two roads ahead of you. The first: kill the Duchess Nova standing next to you, and then, dismantle your cultivation with your own hands, and come with me of your own free will. Do that, and I guarantee your survival... and much more. That is the straightforward path."
Leon blinked, slowly, as if allowing the figure to withdraw her words.
"You’re serious," he said, voice low—just above a whisper, but cold enough to cut steel.
"Oh, very," the cloaked figure replied, amusement curling at the edges of her words like smoke. "Deadly serious."
Nova’s voice cut in from the side of Leon, keen and unyielding. "And what if we don’t?" Her green eyes drew even tighter, her stance as taut as a knife with its blade drawn back to strike. "What’s option number two—and better yet—why would we take anything from a stranger who covers her face and throws knives?"
The woman laughed again, softly at first—then more fully, warmer, as if she actually found Nova’s resistance endearing.
The woman sighed out a low, melodious laugh—soft and somehow intimate, like a woman whispering a secret nobody else is supposed to hear.
"Oh, dear Duchess," she said with a careless tone, "You wouldn’t."
she said with a careless shrug. "But then, you won’t have much time to regret it."
Her tone fell, nearly joyous now. "If you don’t comply, you’ll die here. Simple. You," she nodded toward Nova with the movement of her chin, "will be the first to die. And your precious Duke? He’ll accompany me no matter what—though rather less whole."
Leon’s fists gripped at his sides. Nova didn’t flinch.
Both of them glared her down, brows furrowed, tension tightening like drawn bowstrings.
And if you’re so hungry to see my face," the woman replied calmly, her hand up, "then so be it. It’s not as if either of you will be going out of here to speak to anyone."
With a practiced gesture, she pulled back her hood.
The air changed. For an instant, time froze. Then, as ink spilling onto silk, a fall of raven-black hair came loose, cut in a sharp bob that brushed her shoulders. The hood dropped away altogether, showing more than a face—more than a face, it was a mask of beauty and menace. Her eyes, dark as polished obsidian, settled on them with unblinking serenity, the stare of a predator who had already chosen they were hunting.
Moonlight illuminated her face in silver, highlighting pale skin to porcelain. High cheekbones threw sharp shadows, and crimson lips smiled too perfectly to be kind. She was gorgeous—stop-you-in-your-tracks gorgeous—but every bit of her beauty had a razor’s edge. A cold, calculated charm.
And both Leon and Nova knew her immediately.
Nova caught her breath. Her eyes went wide. "You... Natasha?"
Leon’s eyebrow rose, his tone low and incredulous. "The King’s personal secretary? You?"
The woman smiled more broadly, a touch of mirth playing across her eyes. "Secretary, spy, seductress—it’s merely a matter of words." She laughed softly, her head tilting. "But if you wish to address me as Natasha, I won’t quibble, Duke Leon.
Leon blinked. Is she flirting with me? Her tone, her eyes—it wasn’t mockery alone. There was something game-like, something perilous, lurking underneath.
From his side, Nova gazed at the woman in sheer astonishment. "What the fuck..." she swore under her breath. She glanced back and forth between them. Did this woman show up here to kill him or flirt with him? Then she looked at Leon’s face—serene, unreadable, infuriatingly handsome. Bloody arsehole, she thought. That face does make women go silly. Even crazy ones, it seems.
But then something snapped into place in her head. A chill suspicion took hold.
If she’s the King’s secretary... and she was here to kill us... then— Her look changed abruptly.
"You are the King’s employee," Nova said, her tone cold now, eyebrows raised. "He hired you to kill us, didn’t he?"
Leon shifted his gaze to Natasha at the same instant, something grim passing into his eyes. He’d known the King would make a move—sooner or later—but this? Sending his own secretary?
Natasha laughed her head back and laughed and laughed, loudly and uncontrolled.
"That idiot?" she exclaimed between guffaws.