Her Assassins: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Kindred Souls Book 1)

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  Thank You

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All mistakes are my own.

  Copyright © 2018 Helene Gadot

  Cover art by alexannasbuts

  Interior Formatting by Heather Griffin

  Editing by Harley Gordon

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.

  Dedication

  For all the readers who are sick of choosing between love interests.

  ONE

  Perched on a stool in the center of the smoky tavern, my fingers plucked at the strings of my ukulele as I began my song. I sang out in protest of Faligrey's laws, against the kindred souls. My bitterness and heartbreak painted my voice with low, husky tones.

  This was for my parents, for the drudge of a life they led because they dared to love each other and build a life together despite not being kindred souls. I refused to rest, to accept the life they led, the life I led. The banishments, always moving from village to village, never accepted, never making friends.

  It was a lonely life, but the three of us had each other. Then the poverty got to them, bending them until they broke and the sickness took them both in the same week.

  On my own ever since with nothing but my father's ukulele and a small pack of belongings, I made my way as a traveling bard, singing in taverns until my seditious lyrics got me thrown out of town.

  The patrons began to stir with unease as my lyrics sank in. Most listeners paid more attention to the music instead of the words. Sometimes it took a bit for it to click in their brains.

  One man leaned forward from the shadows, a hood over his head like he was trying to remain hidden, but my voice drew him forward. His eyes shined like starlight and they caught me in their deep, gleaming pools.

  Tearing my attention away from the mysterious man, I moved into the second song, one crooning with nostalgia and longing. My emotions rose, trying to cut off my voice, but I shoved them away. I'd release them once I was alone with the stars, not here, not now.

  A small roll sailed towards me, but it fell a foot short. They hoped it would send me running away, but it wouldn't. Boos and hisses whispered from the shadows and corners of the tavern.

  My songs weren't technically illegal, we were supposed to have freedom of expression, but it still made people uncomfortable and angry to hear songs against one of the strictest laws in Faligrey.

  But I wanted those who never found their kindreds, those whose kindreds were a disappointment, those who lost theirs and had to spend the rest of their lives without love, those who were branded bastards to know they were not alone. That someone understood their plight, that someone saw them, that someone spoke for them, fought for them.

  Sometimes it felt like I was screaming into an empty void with only the stars to hear me. But there were times. Times when desperate voices have whispered their thanks to me under the cover of night, the press of a grateful hand, the small gifts wrapped in cloth, the coins slipped into my hat.

  It made every piece of thrown food, every bruise, every sneer, every hateful word worth it.

  My third song was different. I tucked the ukulele onto my back and stood behind the stool, slamming down a beat with two tin cups onto the wooden surface. Instead of singing, I spoke the lyrics, a poem loud and angry and full of fire. My boots stomped the planks on the floor, harmonizing with the tin cups, pounding out my rage.

  My voice rose over the muttering and jeers of the tavern patrons.

  As I began the last stanza, a harsh hand wrapped around my upper arm. I didn't let it distract me and kept speaking my truths even as I fumbled with my cups. I managed to shove them into the pockets of my coat and I pulled my ukulele around to my chest to keep it safe from harm as I was dragged towards the door. The last words of the song fell from my lips as I was shoved outside, barely keeping my feet.

  The tavern owner spit in my direction. "You're not welcome here. I suggest you get out of town before I call the royal guard on you."

  I straightened my coat and shot him a crass gesture with my free hand. This was why I got my payment upfront before I performed. The few people still milling about on the darkened streets gave me curious looks, but I avoided eye contact and hurried to the edge of the village where I hid my bag of provisions. I learned the hard way years ago to not bring my things with me. It was hard enough to escape sometimes with my father's ukulele still safe in my arms.

  Time to try the next village. Hopefully before word of my inflammatory songs reached them. Once I had my pack strapped over my shoulders, I walked through the night for an hour, wanting distance between my home for the night and the village. I'd had people try to follow me before to teach me a lesson.

  A copse of trees and bushes arranged in a fairy ring circle would make the perfect home for the night. The leaves on the trees were thick, providing coverage. I perched on a fallen log, stretching out my sore legs in front of me while I rummaged through my pack. I pulled out my flint and one of my few remaining tins of food and the last scrap of cheese. I needed to purchase more supplies before I performed in the next village.

  With a small fire crackling and keeping me company, I smiled up at the stars and raised my tin cup of warm brandy at their friendly light.

  "Mama, Papa, if you're up there, I miss you. I hope you're together, finally free and happy and safe." I was convinced my whispered, broken words reached them. It was the only thing that comforted me in their absence, the thought of them reunited in death.

  I drained the drink and snuggled into the blankets I had laid out on the spongy moss, using my pack as a pillow. Exhaustion plucked at me, the usual memories and worries not plaguing me on this night.

  A tension in my chest, so tight it was painful, woke me up. My eyes popped open as I searched the blackness of the night for a threat.

  TWO

  My heart thudded in my still tightening chest and the skin on the back of my neck prickled. I wasn't alone. Someone found me. I slipped my hand into my pocket and slid out my dagger. I wasn't the most skilled fighter, but it only took one lucky stab.

  My chest worsened, making it hard to breathe. I didn't understand what was going on, why my body was reacting this way. How I knew someone was out here.

  Was I having a panic atta
ck? Had my subconscious heard the snap of a twig and warned me? I'd never felt anything like it before. The sanctity of my camps had never been invaded. I always chose places far from traveler's paths and roads.

  I kept my eyes slit, pretending I'm asleep and unaware of my uninvited and unwelcome company. Shadows grew around me even though there wasn't the slightest breeze in the air. I tightened my grip on the knife hidden beneath my blanket, my entire body trembling with tension.

  Hands gripped from behind without me even realizing they were there, a palm slapping over my mouth, an arm winding around my middle, trapping my arms to my body. I thrashed against him, fighting to free myself, but his hold was strong. Two more people melt from the trees, stepping into moonlight and the waning glow of my fire. They were huge, tall and muscular and deadly.

  This was not going to go well for me.

  The one holding me turned me onto my back, plucking the knife from my fingers. My pulse pounded, but the tension in my chest disappeared. The pain faded away and calm swept over my body.

  My brain screamed at me to fight, to move, to do something, but I was caught, lost in his eyes, eyes the color of starlight.

  "What are you waiting for, Whist. Finish it." One of the other men spoke, his voice smooth and husky like the brandy I drank before bed.

  The one holding me, Whist, shook his head in confusion. "I can't." It was the man from the tavern.

  "Impotence at your age? You're a little young for that, aren't you?" The other man laughed and drew closer, his movements fluid until he met my eyes and stumbled, falling to his knees beside me, the humor vanishing from his face.

  Whist growled at the funny man's closeness, yanking me tighter to him. "Back off, Sky. You're not touching her."

  Sky's wide eyes didn't leave mine. "I'm afraid you're going to have to share, my friend."

  Whist relaxed his hold on me the slightest bit. "You too?"

  The third man, the one with the voice that echoed deep in my bones approached. "What the hell is going on?"

  My brain finally forced the rest of me into action and I bucked against Whist's grip. "Let me go. What do you want from me? How did you even find me? Who are you?"

  "We're here to kill you."

  THREE

  "What?" I struggled harder, panic making my head spin. Why they hell were they going to kill me? Who were they?

  Sky shushed me and held his hands out to his sides. "We're not going to hurt you, doll. We can't."

  The third man with the voice dropped to his knees as well beside Sky, the one who thought he was funny. He reached out a trembling hand and brushed his fingers against my cheek. "Shit."

  Whist finally released me, but they boxed me in, leaving me no way to escape. And a part of me didn't want to. A part of me craved their touch. With Whist no longer wrapped around me, the ache returned to my chest. A hollow emptiness, like part of me was missing.

  I huddled into myself, wrapping my arms around my middle. "W-what's going on? What do you mean you're supposed to kill me? Who are you?"

  Whist threw more wood on my fire, making it blaze back to life. I could see the three of them better and it made my heart pound harder, faster. They were beautiful, like carved statues come to life. They could have broken me in half with ease.

  I scooted back against the log, hugging my feet to my chest and waited for answers.

  The three men sat in a half circle in front of me, close but not touching. Why did I want them to touch me?

  The one with the voice pointed to Whist. "He's Whistle, but we call him Whist. That one is Schuyler, but we call him Sky. And I'm Saber."

  "I'm Rhapsody." My voice came out trembling and small and confused.

  "We know." Whist inspected me like some sort of fascinating specimen.

  I sat up a little, frowning. "How do you know who I am?"

  "We were sent by the king." Sky tossed another branch onto the fire.

  I watched the sparks dance and flicker in the air instead of watching them. "Why?"

  A long silence fell around us before Whist finally answered my question. "We're assassins."

  My head whipped back around to face the men, shock stiffening my body. "He wants me dead? Why? I haven't done anything illegal."

  Saber sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Which is why he sent us."

  My brow furrowed and I shook my head, not understanding. "But...if he wants me dead, why am I still alive?"

  "You don't know? You don't feel it?" Sky asked.

  "Know what?"

  Whist speared me with his gaze, his starlight eyes burning through me. "We're your kindreds."

  A loud ringing blared through my mind, my thoughts tripping over themselves. This couldn't be happening. "No. That's impossible. No. Sorry, but I don't believe in kindreds."

  Whist jerked back. "How can you not believe in kindreds?"

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to straighten my mind, my thoughts. "I mean, I believe they're real and all, but I don't believe in being forced to be with them. Don't you know why the king wants me dead? Have you not heard my songs?"

  Whist snarled and ran his hand through his hair. "Oh, we've heard your songs. They've reached everywhere, people whisper them and pass them along. They have the palace in an uproar."

  Saber slid a hand up my arm. "Don't you feel it? The heat between us? The rightness?"

  I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the goosebumps rising in the wake of his hand, and shook off his touch. "It doesn't matter."

  Saber smiled in understanding. "Oh, love it does matter. Now that we've met you, touched you. It'll rip us to shreds if you try to deny the connection."

  I shook my head. No. This could not happen. "I'll get over it and so will you."

  Sky patted my knee. "We can keep you safe. When we don't return the king will send more after you."

  I jerked away from him, trying desperately to ignore the heat his touch sent racing through my body. "I'll be more careful, but I'm not going to stop performing."

  Sky's hand clenched into a fist, like he was trying not to reach out for me again. "You have to. The king doesn't want your words causing an uprising."

  I scoffed with bitterness. "I highly doubt he needs to worry about that."

  "You'd be surprised." Saber clapped his hand onto Sky's shoulder and the tension bled out of him.

  Interesting.

  Whist kicked dirt onto the fire. "Enough. Try to go back to sleep. We'll talk more tomorrow and take you to a safe place until we figure out our next move."

  Did they really expect me to be able to sleep? Did they really expect me to just go along with them when I'd never seen them before in my life and had no idea the type of men they were? All I knew was they were assassins and that was certainly not a ringing endorsement.

  My chances of slipping away undetected were slim. One would remain awake, on guard while the rest of us slept. How could I convince them to let me go?

  Ignoring them, I curled up under my blanket, hiding my face. This couldn't be happening. What were the chances of me having three kindreds who were also assassins for the king? I hadn't expected to even had kindreds since my parents weren't bonded. The other few bastards I'd met hadn't found their's.

  I faked sleep, listening to them chat quietly.

  "What the fuck are we going to do? We didn't come prepared for this. And in a week, we'll have prices on our heads along with hers." Sky sounded worried and frustrated.

  Saber sighed. "I don't know. I can't believe we share the same kindred. I never dared hope we could stay together." Saber's voice and words drew me to him, but I fought it off.

  "We will take her to one of my safe houses and lie low for a few weeks. Maybe once she's disappeared, the king will forget about her." Whist sounded certain and determined, not a hint of doubt coloring his tone.

  "Unlikely, if we don't return," Saber said.

  Sky scoffed. "We aren't his slaves, we're his employees. We can quit whenever we want."

&nbs
p; "Should we run? Head to Havisam?" Saber asked.

  I smothered a snort. No way in hell was I running away to another country.

  "It would still be a risk. Well-known royal assassins show up there? They could declare war." Whist said.

  "We'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Most people have no idea what we look like. We have forged papers, supplies all over the country." Sky has lost all of his humor.

  "She doesn't seem to want to go anywhere with us." Saber pointed out the obvious. He was the only one who seemed to give a shit about my opinions.

  "She'll change her mind. She clearly doesn't have any idea what it's like to be kindred. Why did her parents not prepare her?" Sky certainly was confident. I looked forward to seeing his confidence shattered.

  "Maybe she's an orphan." Again, Saber was the only one who was thinking of my feelings instead of how to control me.

  Sky made a thoughtful humming sound. "Probably. She's angry enough at the royals to have some sort of trauma in her past."

  "Don't we all." Whist was dismissive, focused on my safety and their next moves.

  "Don't be a dick, Whist. Three men appeared in the night to kill her and then declared her their kindred. Her entire life is being upended. It's a lot for anyone to take in."

  "We just lost our well-paying jobs, have to leave our home, and go on the run to keep our criminal kindred safe. She isn't the only one having to make do." A small pang of guilt slid through me at Whist's words.

  "Yes, but we have actually been looking for our kindred. She has apparently been running from finding hers. We need to understand what happened to make her this way. Was there anything in her file that would explain it?" Sky finally seemed to find his empathy.

  Whist cursed. "There's precious little on her. The only thing we know is her first name, description, and the lyrics to most of her songs. They had no info on family or friends. She has no home. She just travels from village to village passing along her borderline seditious prose."