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House De Riva, in the way of the Crows, encouraged competition between its trainees. Every step of the way, the not yet quite Crows competed with each other. Lidia often won. Addolorata was burningly, achingly jealous of her. Lidia had skill and beauty both. She herself was solidly at the middle of the pack. Not so bad as to risk her death in training, but hardly worthy of praise.
Lidia had made her first kill months before, Addolorata knew, but it was only now that she was presented with the opportunity. She had to do this well. She couldn’t afford to mess it up. Everything hung in the balance.
The kill was surprisingly easy. It didn’t really hit her until later just what she had done. She had taken her first life. She would continue killing until the day she died, for no-one left the Crows. Except one, but nobody dared to talk about him. Not even Lidia.
She wanted, so desperately, to be more like Lidia. Talented and favoured, a bright future in the realm of assassination ahead of her. Everyone wanted to be like her, though Addolarata had never told anyone that she wanted to kiss her, too.