4th of Blossom Moon

He’d knocked Kellan out with the pommel of his dagger. After all, his orders were only to confirm the kill, not to murder the assassin.

He felt a little bad for him, though. Cassian had avoided giving any information, which had clearly frustrated Kellan. It didn’t matter. If he’d revealed anything about Ragnor, it surely would have made its way back to his employer.

Cassian retrieved his techpad from a side pocket on his thigh, pressing a series of three buttons before replacing it. He’d disrupted the camera feeds on his own, not risking the Legion jamming to do it for long enough.

He’d smelled the belladonna gas and known he couldn’t enter the bedroom. What he hadn’t expected was for Kellan to follow him. Legion assassins were dedicated to their jobs, and confirming the kill should have been his priority. He really was green.

He left Kellan slumped on the patio as he went back inside to confirm Van Alder’s death. The house was deathly quiet, his breath the only sound as he climbed the stairs and opened the bedroom door once more.

The canister was now emptied, the gas dissipating as he approached. He held his breath before entering, sweeping across the room in one steady movement. The man’s neck was still warm, but his heartbeat was nowhere to be found.

He reached down to grab the canister from the floor and tucked it into a pocket on his belt. Leave no trace.

Cassian left the room as swiftly as he’d entered, not daring to exhale until he reached the hallway once more. With the kill confirmed, his job here was done.

Moving back out to the patio, he looked down on Kellan’s sleeping face and felt a twinge of guilt. He knew enough about the Legion’s draft and indenture program to understand that any sign of weakness like this wouldn’t be taken lightly.

And he wasn’t the type to ignore his messes. After all, it was his fault for being so careless.

A tug in his gut encouraged him to listen to that instinct. He knew the feeling well, that pull. It had guided him for most of his life, saving him on multiple occasions, encouraging him to listen to the gentler side of himself. He’d learned to trust it when it occurred.

He carefully grabbed Kellan around his midsection, slinging him over a shoulder and carrying him out the back gate of the manor. He was light for his height, and warm against his shoulder.

The night was dark, and Cassian stuck to the shadows as he left the manor. He needed a taxi, but he couldn’t risk being seen too close to Van Alder’s residence so soon after his death. Kellan wasn’t that heavy, but dragging him several blocks away from the manor by his waist was awkward.

They finally ended up in the very northern tip of Lunadere, near a run-down bar with a neon sign of an elf chugging a frothy beer. The brilliant yellow lettering read ‘The Frothy Mustache.’ Cassian cringed.

He found a taxi soon after, painting a sheepish look on his face at the driver’s questioning look when he threw Kellan into the backseat.

“Too much to drink,” he said by way of explanation, gesturing to the nearby bar as proof of Kellan’s state.

The driver looked suspiciously at the weapons strapped to their bodies but didn’t ask for details. He just nodded when Cassian gave the address of his hotel, peeling away from the curb with a squeal of the tires.

Upper Cloud’s buildings were tall and imposing, but they didn’t bother him. Of all the districts in Spiral City, Upper Cloud’s architecture reminded him most of his home in Ebenfell.

Northwind, however, was intimidating in a different way. The entire district screamed money, and a lot of it. The buildings here were white and cream, with columns holding up arches that were several stories tall. Everything about this district felt foreign, even in the middle of the city.

The journey was nearly complete when a groan from the backseat sent Cassian’s heart into a panic. He might be helping Kellan, but he certainly didn’t need to know that now.

Kellan’s face was scrunched, his lips puckering as he roused from Cassian’s attack. Cassian pulled at the small well of magic in his gut, threading it out through his fingertip. It flowed in a purple stream at Kellan, sending him back into slumber.

The hotel finally appeared, and he thanked the driver softly as he unloaded a snoring Kellan from the backseat. He entered through a side door, taking care not to bump Kellan’s head on the doorway.

His room was on the fourth floor, and he carried Kellan up the stairs rather than using a lift. It would be best for him to dump Kellan in the room and leave as soon as he could. The fewer people who saw them, the better.

Cassian opened the hotel door clumsily, still trying to balance holding Kellan with grabbing the keycard.

The bed was still made—he hadn’t spent a night here yet, and now he wouldn’t at all. His weapons trunk was packed, save for the sword still strapped to his back, and the daggers at his thighs.

He made his way to the bed, gently placing Kellan down on it and cradling his head before it could hit the mattress. He’d already smacked him in the head once, it wouldn’t do for him to do it again. And Cassian didn’t want to risk waking him, especially not now.

Kellan’s hair shifted beneath his hand. It was short in the back, but the strands were soft, glimmering golden under the hotel light. The multitude of piercings adorning Kellan’s ears caught his eye as he rested the man’s head on the pillow. They ran the entire length of his ear, some hoops that circled the shell closely, some small sparkling gems that interspersed themselves between the hoops. Pointed cones that resembled the blade of a dagger decorated his lobes.

Cassian shook his head, removing his hand from beneath Kellan’s head. He was wasting time. He didn’t need to be staring at his piercings, not while he needed to pack and get out of here.

He concentrated on removing his thigh holsters, setting them firmly into their padded spots in his case. Next came his sword, which he inspected quickly before setting it into the last remaining divot in the padding.

He hadn’t bothered unpacking anything else, so he shut his case quickly and latched it closed.

A sound came from the bed, startling him. But Kellan hadn’t awoken—he’d simply turned over, his face toward Cassian now. His mouth hung open just slightly, and he snored once.

Cassian frowned, but a small bit of relief sparked in his heart. It felt good to complete a mission without killing someone. It had been many years since he’d been able to merely monitor a situation without needing to bloody his own blades.

Van Alder had died tonight, he reminded himself. But Kellan had done that, not him.

He glanced once more at the man sleeping on the bed. He didn’t pity him, but something akin to concern pooled in his heart. He looked so young. The Empire was cruel to continue to do this to the Fallen, but changing the heart of the government would not be an easy task.

Kellan breathed deeply again, and Cassian gathered his trunk, heading toward the door without a second glance back.