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  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2017 Marie Medina

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-437-4

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To David and Patrick

  ASSASSIN’S RETURN

  Valladora Tales, 3

  Marie Medina

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  Valladora

  3156, The Year of Blood

  Quentin looked up from the vegetable garden every time he heard his nephew Jesse shriek in delight. He couldn’t help it. Even though he had grown used to his nephew’s boundless enthusiasm for everything under the twin suns, he still worried the adventurous little boy might hurt himself. Jesse had just turned two, and he could already run so much faster than Quentin had ever imagined someone so small could run. Luckily, the fence Samuel had built on his last visit had proven sturdy enough to keep Jesse from wandering, or sprinting, away from Quentin.

  The letter Quentin had received three days ago had indicated Samuel would be back soon, possibly today. Part of Quentin rejoiced in his childhood friend’s return, but the rest of him remained baffled at the man’s continued devotion. Quentin’s twin sister, Lizzie, had gotten pregnant by a man who had been passing through their village—to this day, Quentin had no idea who Jesse’s biological father was. Lizzie had refused to even give him the man’s name. When she’d died in childbirth, Quentin had been left to raise Jesse alone. Samuel had returned to the village a few days after Lizzie’s funeral, and upon hearing the news had declared publicly that he was the child’s father before lamenting that Lizzie hadn’t told him about the baby. Murmurs had immediately gone up, quieting down when Samuel promised to do all he could for the child.

  Quentin had been too stunned to object, even though he’d known it was a lie, and he’d stood by and watched Samuel chastise himself for not marrying Lizzie and staying in the village. Word had spread, but Samuel was so well liked and admired in the very conservative village that most hadn’t blamed him for putting his duty to the king first, especially as he hadn’t known there was a child to consider. Quentin had kept his mouth shut, as no one else seemed to disbelieve Samuel’s assertion. But Quentin knew Samuel had not been in the village anywhere near the time of Jesse’s conception, plus Lizzie would have had no reason to lie if Samuel had been the father. She’d been infatuated with him since she was twelve, and Quentin would definitely have approved of them being together. Samuel also would never have even started to court a friend’s sister without obtaining permission first. But more importantly, Samuel had always preferred male lovers. He’d often mentioned the interesting and exotic men he met on his travels. Everyone else in the village believed Samuel was an ambassador for the king, but Quentin knew what he actually was—an assassin.

  As much as he loved his friend, Quentin felt uneasy about Samuel’s work. The danger worried him as much as the moral quandary did. If Samuel died, Quentin would truly feel alone in the world. He’d still have Jesse, but it wasn’t the same. Quentin was well liked, and everyone was kind to him and Jesse, yet he’d never felt he fit in, his withdrawn nature viewed as odd by most. His two attempted courtships had been disasters, so he’d given up for now. Taking care of Jesse took up all of his time anyway. His second courtship had, in fact, been more for Jesse’s sake than his own. As much as he loved Jesse, he wanted the little boy to have a mother and receive the nurturing he worried he couldn’t give.

  A shadow fell across the tomatoes in front of him, and Quentin looked up. He smiled and said, “Look, Jesse! It’s Daddy!”

  Samuel opened the gate and entered the yard, smiling back at Quentin before scooping Jesse up into his arms. “Hey, Jesse!”

  “Dada!” Jesse said, beaming at Samuel.

  “He’s talking now!” Samuel said with a proud grin.

  “Yes, but he prefers laughing to talking. So far, he says Quen, dada, and cow.”

  Samuel looked thoughtful. “But I’m hardly here. Does he really remember me?”

  “I think so. It’s only been a few months since your last visit. And I talk about you when your letters come. Read them to him.”

  Samuel’s gaze cut over to him right away, looking a bit surprised. “You do?”

  “Of course,” Quentin said, wondering what the look on Samuel’s face meant.

  Turning his attention back to Jesse, Samuel said, “My, you’re getting big! I hope you’re helping your Uncle Quen.”

  Quentin laughed as he wiped his hands on his trousers. “He’s too little for that.”

  Samuel bounced Jesse, who giggled with glee and tugged on Samuel’s collar. “Big, strapping lad like this? He could help you.”

  “I do just fine by myself,” Quentin said.

  But Samuel eyed him. “You look tired.”

  “I am. Between the cows and Jesse, I’m always busy. If it weren’t for the fence you built, this garden would’ve gone to pot. He’s learned to climb out of his little playpen.”

  Samuel put Jesse down. “You said you were always busy in your last letter. That’s why I’m going to stay much longer this time.”

  Quentin wanted that, but he hated to take advantage. “The king’s all right with that?”

  Samuel studied him before he said, “We can talk about that later.”

  Quentin looked down at Jesse. “He’s too young to understand what we’re saying.”

  The other man shook his head. “That’s not it. I just got here and want some time with my friend. Time I’m not thinking about my work or Jareth.”

  Quentin noticed Samuel looked weary as well. He could see a hint of dark circles under his dark eyes. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” He grabbed the basket of vegetables. “I’m pretty much done. We can sit on the porch and have a refreshing drink. I made peach tea.” He nodded to the large glass jar sitting on the table in the sunniest spot by the house.

  Samuel smiled again. “I’ve always said that spot was magical. Never had sun tea like yours anywhere in my travels.”

  “You always say that. It’s all the same, and you know it.”

  Samuel took the basket from him and put one arm around him as they moved toward the house. “I disagree. Sun tea is better than something boiled in a kettle, and your sun tea is the best in all of Valladora. I’m the world traveler. You should listen to me and follow my lead.”

  Quentin laughed. “Should I?”

  “Yes. In all things, I should be your guide.” Samuel squeezed his shoulder as they mounted the few steps to the porch. “Sit. You’ve been in the sun. I’ll grab some glasses from inside.”

  As usual, Quentin didn’t resist. What was the point? His friend was the stubbornest man he’d ever met. He watched Jesse carefully putting rocks into a bucket as Samuel fixed their drinks and sat down beside him.

  “You’ve been in the sun, too. Did you walk from the village?” Quentin asked.

  “I rode, but I put Sophie in the barn first. Rubbed her down a bit and fed and watered her.”

  Quentin looked toward the barn and small stable. “I must’ve been daydreaming. I didn’t see or hear you until you were right in front of me.”

  “You were busy watching Jesse. Plus, I do h
ave certain skills, you know,” Samuel said with a grin.

  Proud as Quentin was of his friend’s success, he couldn’t smile back. “I know. But I still worry that each time I see you will be the last.”

  Samuel sipped his tea, looking more serious. “I’m careful. You know I am.”

  “Yes, but … I’m sorry. You just said you didn’t want to talk about this right now.”

  “It’s all right. Don’t worry about it.” Samuel watched Jesse playing. “He’s grown so much just since I was here last.”

  “He’s going to be very big and strong, like his father.” He cut his eyes over a moment as he said, “Whoever he is.”

  “This again.” Samuel sighed. “If we tell everyone the truth, my help will look like charity.”

  “It is charity.”

  Holding his gaze, Samuel said, “We both grew up poor. We ate and had shelter, but that was about it. You were both only seventeen when your parents died. You had to struggle so much more than I did.”

  “But we had what they left us. This land and the cows and everything. And I work hard to make things better for Jesse.”

  “If I keep helping you, Jesse will have options neither one of us ever had.”

  Quentin watched Jesse a while before saying, “You went out and found your options. Your opportunity. Nothing held you back.”

  “My parents barely had anything to leave me except that old house. I had to do something. There’s nothing wrong with sharing my wealth with … my oldest friend. My truest friend.”

  Quentin squirmed under Samuel’s intense gaze. “I guess I’d rather have you as a distant father figure than have Jesse know the truth.”

  “Exactly. He might think less of his mother. Or he might spend his entire life wondering who his father was.”

  Quentin nodded as he finished his tea. “How was your journey?”

  “Too long. I came from the noise and chaos of the royal dominion, and I was anxious to be here with you.” His gaze didn’t wander as he reached over and touched Quentin’s hand where it rested on the arm of the rocking chair. “Both of you.”

  Moving his hand back to his lap in a way he hoped looked casual, Quentin said, “In the middle of nowhere with chores to be done?”

  One corner of Samuel’s mouth rose in an almost smile. “Here in the loving home of my favorite person. Milking cows and playing on the floor with Jesse and talking with you by the fire every evening.”

  “It’s summer. We’re not building a fire.”

  Samuel laughed. “You know what I mean.”

  I think I do know what you mean, especially the way you were just looking at me. “I do. I’m glad to have you back.”

  His gaze almost seeming to grow more intense, Samuel asked, “Are you?”

  “Of course. There’s lots to do. I don’t get out much.”

  “You must get lonely.”

  “I’m rarely alone. Jesse crawls out of his crib, too. Comes and crawls into bed with me.”

  “Again, you know what I mean.”

  “I do, but … I’m not worried about that. Jesse’s my priority.”

  Samuel licked his lips and opened his mouth, but then he sat back and didn’t say anything for a moment. He nodded to one of the fields the cows grazed in. “When did that tree fall?”

  “Two weeks ago. A pretty bad storm.”

  “Needs to be chopped up.”

  “I know. It’s hard with Jesse. I get nervous because he moves so fast. I worry he’ll jump in the way of the ax or try to climb the fallen tree and get hurt.”

  “Good thing I’m here then. I can do that while you watch him.”

  “I don’t want you working nonstop the entire time you’re here.”

  “I plan on doing plenty of playing as well.” A glint came into Samuel’s eyes as he smiled.

  When Quentin broke the eye contact, Samuel rose and went to kneel beside Jesse, who proudly showed off his bucket of rocks before dumping them all in Samuel’s lap. Quentin half rose to say something, but then he saw Samuel laughing. He then began to praise each and every rock.

  Quentin thought back to the last lines of Samuel’s recent letter. I’ve missed you so much. I can’t wait to watch the suns setting with you and Jesse at my side. Samuel had always been open with his emotions and his affection, but for the past year there seemed to be more to it. They’d been friends practically since birth, and the idea of Samuel being more than that made his palms sweat and his heart race.

  And since Quentin was far too timid to ever say anything, he would simply have to follow Samuel’s lead, just as his friend said he ought to.

  ****

  Samuel swung the ax again, the catharsis of the physical labor calming him some. Despite the number of dangerous missions he’d completed, and the way he’d defied King Jareth by leaving the palace without his permission, he felt like a coward.

  I can’t even tell Quentin how I feel. How will I ever convince him to give me a chance?

  He’d had several opportunities the day before, but he hadn’t taken any of them. The looks Quentin had given him seemed to prove his friend suspected the truth, yet Samuel had let each chance slip away. Samuel’s preference for male lovers had never been a secret, but Quentin had never expressed any interest in men before. Samuel knew Quentin wasn’t a virgin—he wasn’t either—but they’d never talked much about sex beyond curious speculation when they were teenagers.

  Glancing back to the house, Samuel saw Quentin at the kitchen window, probably washing the breakfast dishes or preparing some vegetables for lunch. He paused a moment and watched the other man turn his head and say something to Jesse before moving away quickly, probably to keep the little boy from bringing a piece of furniture down on himself. Samuel longed to stay here forever and take care of Jesse and Quentin, but that would only work if Quentin could return his feelings. Quentin was too tenderhearted and passive to ever ask him to leave, but it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else that a man as wealthy as Samuel would choose to live on a small farm with a “friend”. The fact he’d claimed Jesse as his biological son would excuse it to many, but it would still look a bit odd.

  But more than that, Samuel couldn’t spend every day at Quentin’s side without touching him. He usually stayed about two weeks, which was about all he could take. Once he ran out of tasks to do around the farm, all he could think of was holding Quentin in his arms.

  Samuel didn’t remember the exact moment he’d developed feelings for Quentin. It had only really hit him when he’d arrived in the village two years ago and seen Quentin cradling an infant lovingly in his arms. His heart had nearly stopped, as he’d thought that perhaps Quentin had neglected to tell him about a woman he’d become involved with. When he’d learned the truth and looked down at Quentin’s tear-stained face, the lie had simply spilled out. Samuel couldn’t even remember half of what he’d said that day. All he’d been able to think about was the fact that Quentin needed help and how claiming Lizzie’s baby as his own would tie them together forever.

  It had been a stupid move. They’d been friends since infancy, and that would never change. He hadn’t needed to do a damned thing to remain a part of Quentin’s life. The shock had made him desperate to pull Quentin as close as he could. They’d never fought about it—not exactly—but Quentin brought it up every time he visited. After two years, though, he couldn’t take it back. Everyone would think he was crazy.

  And what will they think if Quentin and I get together? That’ll be a lively round of gossip. Quentin and Lizzie had been twins, though it hadn’t been obvious because Quentin had inherited his father’s dark hair while Lizzie had somehow gotten the blonde hair dominant on their mother’s side. People would whisper, but didn’t they already? Not everyone had thought it proper for Samuel to seduce Lizzie and then stay gone so long.

  Of course, he couldn’t defend himself and say he hadn’t actually done that at all.

  Samuel had just turned twenty-five, and every time he returned home, th
e local women slyly asked if he planned to marry soon. He’d always been discreet at home, so only Quentin really knew about his preference. He’d left home at nineteen, four months after the deaths of his own parents, following King Jareth off on a “grand adventure”. Part of that adventure had been a very torrid affair with one of Jareth’s grooms, his first real lover. His teenage years had been filled with clumsy fumblings, but he’d never gone all the way until he was far from home.

  “Would you like some water?”

  The voice broke through Samuel’s thoughts, and he blinked as he lowered the ax and lifted his gaze. “I’d love some. Thanks.” He reached out, brushing Quentin’s fingers as he took the glass.

  “You’re welcome. You’ve made short work of it,” Quentin said as he shifted a wiggling Jesse in his arms.

  Samuel downed the water as he looked around and realized he only had one more small section to chop. “Yeah, I guess I was daydreaming myself.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  Samuel set the glass on a smooth rock by the fencepost. “For now.”

  “For now?”

  Unable to make himself tell the whole truth, he settled for half the truth. “I don’t have Jareth’s permission to be here.”

  “What? Tell me you’re kidding. That man scares me so much.”

  “He shouldn’t. He’d never hurt you or treat you unfairly. I know how he seems to everyone, but I’ve gotten to know him well over the years.” Samuel paused, knowing he shouldn’t talk too much about the king’s private life. Jareth had plenty of flaws, but Samuel had come to respect him in a more tangible way since meeting him in person. He came closer and set the ax aside, coming over the fence and removing his shirt to wipe his face down. “But I have the queen’s blessing. I told her I needed to go home, and she understood.”

  Quentin’s gaze wandered over Samuel’s chest as he wiped himself down. Samuel hadn’t taken his shirt off intentionally, but now he slowed his movements to see Quentin’s reaction.