Books About Assassins Fantasy Novels & Stories

The King would be away for hours yet, and I would not waste the chance. Arnold’s chamber door opened before I knocked. He stood there already waiting, eyes burning. “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured, though his hand was already reaching, already drawing me inside. I laughed softly, the thrill bubbling in my chest. “Tell me again about the assassins.” He did, low and fervent, as he pressed me to the wall. “They move in shadows. They never fail. By the time anyone knows they’re there, it’s already done.”

“Hold the line! Do not scatter!” Saraphina moved like a flame unbound. Each strike was swift, deliberate, not wild. But even as bodies fell, more shadows pressed in through the doors and windows. The assassins were many. Too many. She caught a glimpse of their eyes through the masks — cold, lifeless, bound to orders without question. These were not thieves or mercenaries. They were the council’s sharpened hand. One assassin slipped past the fray, blade arcing for her throat. She ducked, the steel grazing her hood, and drove her knee into his gut before slashing him down. Another came from behind, and Lucian’s sword cleaved him away before he touched her.

He pesters me as I struggle with myself to at least be able to wiggle my fingers. I hate him. I hate him so much. No particular reason as to why they want him dead? His words right now are enough reasons. What part made me this unconscious? Was it the hit? Or was it the fact that I cut myself? Was it my blood? I have bled one too many times. Aunt Kitra made sure I never had my trainings easy. “What is an assassin if you cannot fight the same death you have made your job?” He continues to pester me as he increases his pressure on my foot.

"Listen up, boy!" "You're right. I'm a monster, and the Pearl mentioned in all those books. Yes, I killed Diego Corry, but there's one small detail every single book has forgotten to mention." I was grinning wickedly. I threw him down on the ground with force. I could hear him murmuring something to himself under his breath as he said, "I'm an assassin. People hire me when they can't fix their own problems. They hire me because I don't ask questions, and I'm the best at what I do." I could see that he was saying, "I'm an assassin."

He took out the medicine kit he carried with him, then applied medicine and bandaged it to stop the bleeding. Jay bypassed the guards in the library and sneaked inside. After entering the 48 Stronghold compartment, Jay began searching for the register on the shelf. Suddenly, a tinge of crimson on a page of a book caught Jay's attention. He touched the crimson spot on the page with his finger and could feel the moisture on it. Jay was on his guard immediately. A wounded assassin was hiding up above. This was his speculation. In an instant, a ball of lightning flashed in Jay's mind. He exerted strength and smacked his hand on the bookshelf suddenly. An overwhelming murderous aura started beari

And every time I use it, I want more. A sharp cry pulls me from my trance. I turn just in time to see one of the assassins pinning Rigel to the ground, a blade pressing against his throat. No. A cold, merciless rage explodes inside me. Without thinking, I stretch out a hand— The assassin screams. Their body contorts, shadows wrapping around them like living tendrils. Their veins turn black, their eyes wide with terror as they clutch their throat, choking on the darkness that pours into them. I don’t know what I’ve done.

I had no idea what to expect when I arrived at the Blood Moon Pack. The stories I’d heard about it made it sound like a place where wolves and monsters roamed, and no one was ever really safe. Whispers about their assassins —men and women who could kill without a sound, without even a second thought. The books I read spoke of their eyes, cold and hard, and their unmatched skills in battle. This was the kind of place where even the strongest shivered at the thought of crossing them. My heart beat fast as I walked up to the giant stone gates.

There, I climb into bed with it, digging into my sandwich as I simultaneously open my Chemistry book, getting started where I left off this morning. The material is fascinating to me, thank goodness. I mean, I’ve studied chemistry before, but as I work my way through our assigned chapters I realize that this text has been specifically designed for precisely the kind of chemical study that an assassin might need. I frown for a moment but am ultimately unsurprised when I flip to the front of the book, looking for the author’s name. I find it, immediately under the title. Dr. Francis Neumann. I laugh, shaking my head – of course he wrote it, just for us.

The words seemed to leap off the page, filling the room with an eerie sense of foreboding. Everything written in the book didn't make any sense to either Stella or Morgan. They found everything in the book quite absurd. The book spoke of witches, dragons, angels, vampires, and the devil. They didn't believe in such a thing at all, weren't they just fantasy? If they were to interpret it, it only meant that Grandma Elizabeth was a witch while the stranger guy whom Stella had picked from the streets the previous night was the devil.

This is a dream come true. There’s so much happiness in my heart I’m going to burst. But at the same time, I felt scared and unsure of the future. I think it was too soon to feel these things but I don’t know it felt like it was been there all along. Did he felt the same way for me? He's an assassin. Or I thought he is. I've lived with assassins my whole life the way they move or think isn't new to me. And I'm a runaway princess.