Chapter 8 · The Last Assassin

"Don't touch him."

My knife hit the first soldier under the jaw before he could finish kicking the old clerk in the ribs.

He dropped with both hands clamped over the cut. Blood spilled between his fingers and splashed across the archive floor.

The second man stared at me. "Evelyn?"

"Wrong answer."

I drove my elbow into his throat.

He staggered back into a shelf, knocking loose bundles of sealed records onto the floor. Dust burst around his boots. He reached for the sword at his hip, but I caught his wrist and twisted until the joint popped.

"You should've kept your mouth shut," I said.

"Lucian wants her alive!"

"Lucian wants a lot of things."

I slammed his face into the shelf.

The third attacker came at me from behind.

The clerk shouted, "Behind you!"

I ducked. A blade cut through the loose strands of hair at my neck and buried itself in the wooden cabinet. I grabbed the man's coat, yanked him forward, and drove my knee into his stomach.

He folded with a wet gasp.

The second soldier recovered fast. He tore his wrist free and pulled his sword.

"Drop it," he snapped.

"You first."

"You're surrounded."