GENRE: YA Fantasy
The fae believe the ability to lie is a curse. I disagree. In my line of work, there is a certain benefit that comes from everyone believing me when I say I am not going to kill them.
My name is Raegan and I am an assassin by trade, not by choice. Sometimes, we must resort to doing that which we are good at. Sometimes, we have no choice.
In the throes of the restless crowd, I move lightly, my hands pressed into my pockets lest I brush against another. The brand on the inside of my elbow burns like ice. I clench my fists, eyes tracing the hordes of fae surrounding me like a sea. Most are Unseelie, their bodies swathed in cloaks like mine, bright eyes shrouded by hoods and tattered scarves. Many carry goods, armfuls of spells, some with carts, some with cages. Others are residents of the Autumn Court. I bow my head, passing sylphs with ochre-russet skin and hair of deep green, burnt umber.
A flash of a golden blade makes my head whip around.
He might as well send up a flare for all the difference it would make in this crowd.
Missile to target, my eyes fix on a figure a dozen paces ahead. He lurches forward then flinches back, cringing out of the path of an errant arrow some idiot has fired through the crowd. For a Seelie spy, he is not so subtle.