“Here.” I heard my sister’s sweet voice break the afternoon silence and looked up. The market was as still and silent as a graveyard. Curtains had been pulled over windows, vendors were hiding in dark corners, and the crowds of people had disappeared like the baker’s cakes on Half day. The dusty courtyard was empty except for my sister and a man, dressed all in black, sitting propped against the fountain.

“Here,” she piped to the man, holding out my best lily. “This one’s pretty and I want you to have it.”

There was a moment of horrifying stillness. I was frozen, my hands shaking.

Then the man reached up and took the flower. “...why?” He asked. That man looked at my sister with a hint of wonder.

“You looked sad. And my sister says people who look sad should always have flowers--or particularly, lilys--to cheer ‘em up.”

The man contemplated the flower in his hand. Slowly, I reached a hand into my hidden pocket and began to ease my dagger out of its sheath. I expected those scarred hands to strike my beautiful sister down at any moment. But Gavin Eldegenet seemed to almost enjoy the sound of my sister’s voice.

He looked back down at the flower for a long, long moment. He blinked, once, twice, three times. My jaw dropped. I saw in those eyes an indescribable sadness. Gavin Eldegenet was crying.

My sister saw, continued on with her brave, stupid attempt to comfort the most renowned killer in the kingdom. She sat next to him and pointed to the flower. “My name’s--”

Eldegenet raised a hand so quickly I thought he’d strike her. “I’d rather not know, little girl.”

My sister folded her hands primly. “Oh.” Silence again.

The flower trembled in Gavin Eldegenet’s hands. He was shaking. Though, I no longer thought it was from rage. The tear that had been fighting for freedom finally escaped and slid down his cheek. The man gave a tight breath, shoulders hunched.

My sister fidgeted. She hated seeing people cry. When somebody appeared sad she took it upon herself to cheer them up--no matter the cost. That was exactly what I was afraid of. But before I could somehow get her away from him, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his collar.

Gavin Eldegenet, the Queen’s trained killer, was stunned. I saw the blank shock on his face. Then my sister pulled away from him and skipped back to me, satisfied she had done her duty. Shaking with fear, I grabbed her hand and ran from the marketplace.


The encounter was almost more terrifying than the time I had gotten lost in the catacombs at age six. By no means could my family make themselves known to the higher ranking.

It’s time I explained something: Our rooms were one of the few places escaping soldiers could hide until their opportune moment. If they found it, they had a clear shot to the border and freedom.

Sometimes they stayed in our cellar for weeks. That’s why I sell lilies--not only does it serve for a good source of money, but it’s an excellent way to pass messages--hidden in the lush folds of a bouquet. Everybody buys lilies. They’re a symbol of light, and more importantly, life.

Two men were waiting for their escape the very day my sister gave Gavin Monico Eldegenet a hug. But three days passed without incident. I passed away my fear with a sigh and a nervous laugh and forgot.

Two weeks later I watched my parent’s blood hit the floor, heard their screams and the brief howls of the discovered soldiers. I was screaming too, though I couldn’t hear myself. How could they do that to us? Who gave them the right to disregard human life? I shrieked words at them, profanities, nothing that would help us. Then one of the men wrenched my sister out of my arms and sent her sprawling. He raised his blade, and my heart stopped beating.

But the soldier’s sword never descended. A hush fell over the room and the air grew slightly colder as Gavin Eldegenet entered, stooping under the door frame. His gaze passed blankly over the bodies of my parents and over me. When it became apparent that he would say nothing, the soldiers returned to their work. I fought against the soldier, begging them to let my sister live. She cried for the first time, her tiny voice piercing the silence. Gavin Eldegenet jumped like he’d been slapped, sudden alarm in his eyes. “Stop!” He cried hoarsely.

The soldier looked relieved. He dropped my sister and stood to attention. Gavin Eldegenet stared at my sister like there was nothing else in the world--not the bodies, my sobs, the wanton cruelty.

Gavin Eldegenet took a step forward, like he meant to comfort my terrified sister. She shrank away from him, huddling into a corner.

A grim look settled over Gavin Eldegenet’s face. In a swirl of black fabric, he exited. At a snap of his fingers, the soldiers fell into line and followed him out.



I didn’t know why he let us live. It seemed like a cruel joke. But two weeks later, men ran through the city, shouting that the war was over.

We could hardly believe it at first. Then, as the news sunk in, celebrations began to break out in spontaneous bursts all over the city. I didn’t quite feel like celebrating, however. My hatred for Gavin Eldegenet grew--until we heard the news.

Gavin Eldegenet had died.

I don’t know why I went to the funeral. I had fully intended to stay indoors and shutter the windows while they bore his body through the streets. But...I found myself walking towards the thoroughfare and worming my way to the curb. I reached it just as the procession moved slowly past.

Six soldiers bore his body on a shield, still clothed in his torn and blood-stained clothes. Old Lord Petrerd rode behind his son’s body, head bowed.

Everybody says Gavin Monico Eldegenet went crazy on the battlefield. They say he was the reason the orders went awry and the battle ended in single combat. Everybody knew the Queen had planned to decimate the opposing forces--they were so badly outnumbered it was comical. But something went wrong. And the Queen’s first choice for an representative? Gavin Monico Eldegenet. No one could beat him. The old decrepit king who chose, foolishly, to fight his own battles would stand no chance. Victory would come quicker than the Queen had imagined.

Then Gavin Eldegenet died. Word spread through the troops that he had let the stroke fall, that he had dropped his sword at the last moment and took the blade through the chest. Nobody believed the soldier’s account. I didn’t. Until they bore his body through the streets. Gavin Eldegenet had saved us all.

The soldiers hit a bump in the road and jostled Gavin Eldegent’s body. The flap of his cloak fell off his chest. Then I knew. Gavin Eldegenet hadn’t gone insane. He had given his life.

I saw it. I saw my sister’s wilted lily still pinned inside his cloak when the body passed.