The blade stops an inch from my throat.

I count. One breath. Two.

Still alive.

I open my eyes. The assassin stands over me, arm trembling with effort. His dagger catches moonlight, silver edge, bone handle. Professional work. Expensive.

"Another assassin." I don't bother sitting up. "How tedious."

A muscle twitched near his temple. Dark hair fell across his forehead, damp with sweat. He's been here a while, then. Waiting. Watching. Planning the perfect moment.

Predictable.

"Move," he says. The word is clipped. Controlled. Like he's commanding his own arm.

The blade doesn't budge.

I should feel something. Fear, maybe. Relief. But I've been doing this too long. Three months since the last attempt. I was starting to wonder if they'd run out of volunteers.

"It won't work." I fold my hands across my stomach. "None of them do."

He shifts his weight. Tries again. The dagger shakes but holds position, locked in place by something neither of us can see.

The curse.

"What is this?" His voice drops. Dangerous.

"Magic." I say the word like it's boring. Because it is. "My curse won't let you kill me. Not until someone loves me first." A pause. "And since no one does, here we are."

His arm drops. The blade falls away.

For a moment, he just stares. I've seen that look before, the calculation behind that still face. Assassins don't like puzzles. They like clean contracts. Easy marks.

I am neither.

"The Shadowless," I say. "That's what they call you, isn't it?"

Something flickers across his face. Recognition, maybe. Or annoyance that I know.

I sit up slowly. The sheets pool around my waist. I'm wearing a nightgown, thin silk, pearl buttons. Not exactly armor. But I stopped dressing for survival years ago.

"You've killed seventeen nobles," I continue. "Eight kings. Three war generals. The Archduke of Valdoria. The High Priestess of the Crimson Temple." I tilt my head. "And now someone sent you after me. I'm flattered."

"The contract didn't mention magic."

"It never does." I swing my legs over the side of the bed. My feet touch cold marble. "My father prefers to keep that detail quiet. Bad for negotiations."

He watches me stand. Doesn't retreat. Doesn't advance either. Just... watches.

I've never seen an assassin this still. Most of them pace. Recalculate. Try again from a different angle.

He does none of that.

"I've never missed a mark," he says.

"First time for everything."

A tendon in his neck pulls taut. I note the tell but don't mention it. Two doors in this room. The main entrance, locked from inside. The servant's passage behind the wardrobe. Three windows, one cracked open for the breeze that let him in.

I count exits the way other people count sheep. Old habit. Older fear.

"The curse," he says. "Explain it."

"Why? You planning to break it?"

"I'm planning to complete my contract."

I almost smile. Almost.

"Anyone who loves me dies." The words come easy now. I've said them so many times. "Within seven days of feeling genuine affection, their heart stops. No warning. No wound. They just... stop."

He processes this. I can see the gears turning.

"So kill you before anyone loves you."

"That's what my father thought too. But the curse is clever." I take a step toward him. He doesn't flinch. Good. Most of them do. "It knows when death is coming for me. And it won't let me die until someone loves me first."

"That's..."

"Impossible? Cruel? A prison worse than death?" I shrug. "All true."

The night air moves through the window. Cool against my skin. I should be cold. I can't feel it anymore.

"I've had three fiances," I tell him. "Each one carefully selected. Political alliances. Strategic matches. No one expected them to actually love me." My voice doesn't waver. Progress. "Edmund lasted twelve days before his feelings turned genuine. Theron made it nine. Cassius..." I pause. "Cassius died in seven."

"They're accelerating."

"The curse is hungry." I meet his eyes. "And patient. And very, very thorough."

He slides the dagger back into his belt. The motion is fluid. Automatic. A man who's sheathed a thousand blades.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you can't kill me. And you can't leave, not without completing your contract. The Guild doesn't accept failures, do they?"

His silence is answer enough.

I've done my research. The Shadowless doesn't just have a reputation, he has a record. Perfect completion. Zero deviation. The kind of precision that makes other assassins look like amateurs.

And now he's stuck. Just like me.

"My father will find you in the morning," I say. "His guards sweep the corridors at dawn. You could run, try to scale the walls, disappear into the city. But you won't."

"You don't know what I'll do."

"I know what I would do." I return to my bed. Sit on the edge. "I'd stay. I'd watch. I'd figure out why my blade stopped an inch from an ordinary woman's throat."

"You're not ordinary."

"No." I pull the covers over my legs. "I'm cursed. And now, apparently, so are you."

He stands in the middle of my chamber like a shadow that's lost its source. Dark clothes. Dark hair. Eyes that reflected nothing, not even moonlight.

I should be afraid of him. I know this. He's killed more people than I've ever met. His hands are weapons. His mind is sharper.

But I stopped being afraid of death a long time ago.

Death would be a mercy. The curse knows that too.

"Come back tomorrow night," I say. "Try again. Maybe you'll get lucky."

He doesn't move.

"Or stay. Stand in the corner until dawn. Watch me sleep. I don't care." I lie back against the pillows. Close my eyes. "But know this, Shadowless. You can't kill me. No one can. The curse won't let you, because I'm meant to love you first."

The words hang in the darkness.

I wait for his response. A denial. A laugh. Something.

Nothing.

When I open my eyes again, he's gone. The window is closed. The curtains are still.

I count to one hundred before I stop.

He'll be back. They always come back.

I touch my throat where his blade should have cut. Smooth skin. No wound.

Three fiances dead. Countless assassins failed.

And the curse sits inside me like a second heart. Waiting. Hungry.

Always hungry.