Wicked Steps

Chapter 24

A long time ago Emberlee's Fairy Godmother had shown her how to pass a message through a Mirror, and she had adamantly warned to not let her flesh touch the Mirror while she did so. The night before the Victory Banquet for the General and the Army, Emberlee got to witness why she'd been so resolute. She'd been as prepared for the Banquet tomorrow as possible, every detail planned and all the pieces set in their places. Even with the Empress trying to put sticks in her wheelspoke, the planning had gone off and all they needed to do was enjoy tomorrow, and the last appointment she could have was due to knock at the door and enter without waiting.

As she had agreed to meet with him tonight, she shouldn't have felt as unsettled as she did but Emberlee found herself pacing in her room. The Imperial Crown Princess' chambers allowed her to look out over the public gardens on the grounds, the balcony as furnished as the room itself but even it couldn't provide comfort despite the breeze. In the next fifty hours, she was going to vacillate from celebrating her Father to bidding him farewell so she could set out to Adaba. Tomorrow should have been a chance to enjoy each other's presence, but instead, it was a bittersweet amalgamation.

Her slippers were silent on the rugs, her pacing a consistent stride from balcony to door, vanity to bed, and back again. She weaved around the sitting couch; ignoring her reflection mimicking her movements. She was going over the itinerary for the next day as she turned from the balcony to pace back inside when a piece of fabric snapped across her face, muffling her ability to scream. It wasn't a garrotte, and her assailant seemed more intent on abducting her than killing her, but every instinct in Emberlee knew this was another assassination attempt. Only this time they were trying to make her disappear without a trace. Emberlee bit down on the fabric gagging her, pushed back against her attacker's body, and stabbed Need into his abdomen with a slight squish sound. The hands holding the gag fell away and Emberlee spat the fabric out even as she spun out of reach, trying to face her attacker even as she went to bellow for Sir Ludwig. But the assassin tackled her instead of reacting to his wound, the impact of a tackle driving the air from her lungs. Need was trapped between them, the assassin wasting no time incapacitating her by slamming her head against the ground repeatedly.

Blinding pain flashed across her eyes, her body going limp despite he efforts to remain conscious and fighting. She was carefully silenced by what felt like a leather strap belted around her face, and a matching tether bound her wrists behind her back even as she tried to force her body to move. Her head was starting to clear as the assassin finally took a moment to dress his wound quickly, going so far as to resettle the rumpled carpet and remove the traces of his blood from the scene. And he never took his eyes off of her, though the assassin didn't seem to understand where her sword went. Her body felt weirdly disjointed, still slow to do what her head was screaming, so she had to be very careful in her next moves. Their struggle had taken them into her room properly, so he'd have to pick her up and carry her out. With her hands belted behind her back she couldn't call Need in her defence, so Emberlee carefully got to her knee to try something rash. The assassin came closer to her, almost expecting Emberlee to try and run into him, so he moved with her attack.

But she wasn't trying to knock him over to escape.

Her attacker was very well trained, so she'd anticipated no ability to predict her attack; she wanted him to step back for her because that gave her room to bring her leg up between them and kick his solar plexus; pushing him back against the Mirror even as she fell painfully onto her arms.

A knock at the door preceded Prince Damien's belated entrance, though Emberlee ignored him to stare

at where the assassin had been. Her Mirror was painted red with blood, but on the wrong side of the reflection, as if the man's body had been splattered the moment he made contact with it.