Posted: November 16, 2012 by Arushi in Original Fiction
Tags: , , , ,

I have been thinking a bit about Micara. The assassin I wrote about in Kind Regards. I figured I’ll share another short about her. This one is less focused, and gives more of a flashback into her life.


“You or her?” the mercenary snarled and Micara’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t like that sentence. In fact, she hated it with a vengeance.

“Such lovely choices.” He leered at Dena but before he could do any more than that, Micara’s hand flashed out and she slashed his throat from ear to ear.  She swiftly moved back to avoid the blood, glad for her black clothes.

“We’re leaving.” Micara snapped at her cousin and strode away. Dena followed hastily, her shoes making little scuffing noises on the cobbled streets, taking two strides for every one of her older cousin’s. Micara kept up the pace until they were home, which took a long while due the circling she did to avoid being followed.

The moment they were in, Micara had her blade at the girl’s throat.

“If you want to learn, you follow orders and above all you ask me to teach you. But do not, ever again follow me you fool! There will be nothing painless about your fate, if you do.” She pushed the girl away and strode upstairs, going past the girl’s startled sister.

Great, she thought crankily, now Darlene will want to know why Dena wants to learn to fight!  

She swung herself up the hole that was the entrance into the attic and stomped to her side of it. It was a simple living space consisting of a bed, a trunk and a small chest of drawers.

She pulled back her sleeve and stared at the mark on her inner arm, just a little above her wrist. It looked like an intricate tattoo made of spiky black lines and forest green swirls, but she knew that no one could decipher it. It could not be copied. It would never come off. There was only one other like it in the whole world.

She reached out to touch it, “You or her?” the words shivered through her mind and her fingers curled into a fist.

“Micara! Come down!” Darlene called and she headed downstairs, glad to not be alone with her thoughts anymore.

“Thank you for saving Dena’s life.” the man said quietly when she entered the kitchen. Micara shook her head.

“We’re family.”

“Aye and she could have gotten you killed.” He heaved a deep sigh, looking older than his fifty years. Micara sat down across from him at the table.

“I am not happy about everything that has happened and that Dena wants to follow me. Still, I would be terrible at my job if I could not keep one kid alive.”

“After what you did, avenging Mya…” Talbot whispered, eyes misting over.

“We’re family.” Micara said getting up. “Run your inn. You’ll scare the customers with that unhappy face.”

Talbot nodded and she slipped out. Dena was waiting outside.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered in a small voice. Micara nodded. “Only one assassin per family, but I will teach you self-defense.”

This time she could not go back to her room. She wandered the neighborhood rooftops until she was too tired to move and then fell asleep as soon as she reached her bed.

“You or her?” The question stunned Micara. It was supposed to be equal but now the question had been asked and she knew that his answer would define everything.

“Her.” Shay answered meeting the sorcerer’s eyes. Micara could not see the expression behind the mask, but she thought respect glimmered in those beady black eyes. 

She glared at Shay, but he had orchestrated all of this and there would be no protests at this stage. When the sorcerer placed the potion glass at her lips, she gulped it down. It affected her quickly, her body slumping in the shackles. She knew her wrists would hurt like hell tomorrow as they were lifted so high that her weight was balanced on her toes. But it would be nothing compared to what would happen to Shay.

He had picked her to be spared. 

As long as they were both alive tomorrow, it would be okay.

“Don’t fall asleep, child.” Shay said hoarsely.

She struggled until she met his gaze. “Yes.”

When the night was over, Micara could do nothing but hold onto him as he carried her to the hot springs. He hissed in pain as the water came above his waist, but kept on walking right to the bench in the center. Silently they washed the night, the blood and the stink of magic from their skin.

Micara ground her teeth in frustration as the last effects of the drug left her and she saw the amount of damage he had taken. He had been savaged, brutalized while she had been spared. Fool! 

“I’d rather be flayed than see you hurt. You’re mine.” he growled, voice guttural with pain.

“Yes. Yours.” Micara whispered, reaching out to stroke his face. Her wrists were bruised black but his were raw and still seeping blood.

“And you’re mine.” She added fiercely.

“Yes.” He laughed then and gave her a look filled with so much joy that it made her heart hurt.

Micara woke up reaching out for a man who was not there. She could feel him on the tips of her fingers, taste the magic and the mist in the air, smell the sulphur of a hot spring.

She blinked away his image and looked around at her small room. When her eyes came back to the bed, she could see other sheets overlapping these and she could see him sleeping there.

“Time to go.” Micara murmured and he opened his eyes. Forest green eyes piercing her with their intensity. Micara slid out, dressed and left without glancing at the bed again, ignoring the whispered words hanging in the air behind her “Come home Princess.”

If he wanted her back, he could bloody well come get her.  

  1. Sarah says:

    I really enjoyed reading this. Any plans on writing a full story about Micara or at least more scenes?

  2. […] I return again to Micara. Giving another snippet of her life. I have a story in mind for her and these small posts together will tell that story. It’ll probably just take a while. She’s too intriguing, too insistent, for me to give up on her. The last post about her was Choices.  […]

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