Chapter 1

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Rowen walked down the hallway, loosening the strings around her wrists. The sleeves fell back, exposing four inches of skin and the daggers strapped to her forearms. It had been a long day. After pulling out the pins that anchored the maid's cap, previously hidden red hair spilled out, tumbling around her shoulders. She flicked the hair behind her shoulder and pushed open a door, dropping the cap into a pocket of the apron she was wearing. The occupant of the room, Edward, had his back to her and was staring out the window.

She tapped her chest with a closed fist. "Sir." He turned slowly. Rowen was startled by the haggard appearance of his face. "Is something wrong?" He did not answer but walked around her toward the door. As he circled her, she faced him, not letting her back turn on him as she had been taught. He closed the door and locked it.

"Rowen."

"Sir?"

He closed his eyes as if to block off some pain. Then he spoke; there was no emotion in his voice, but his face was twisted into a grimace. "It has come to my attention that you are a traitor."

"What?"

"You have given valuable information to our enemies; therefore, you have betrayed us."

"I beg you, listen to me. It is false. I would never do that."

"The facts do not lie." He swallowed. "I must kill you for this."

"You cannot do this, Father." The last word stopped him for a moment. Only a few times had she ever called him that. But that was what he was to her, the only father she had ever known. He swung a knife. Rowen ducked, yanking both daggers from her wrists. She faced him and they circled each other. He faked to the left, then plunged for her heart. She spun away, deflecting the blow.

"Why?" she cried. He did not answer but threw his knife. It sliced the top of her shoulder and quivered in the wall. Stunned, Rowen did not move. The blood began to mix with the fabric of her dress. But it was not fatal. He had missed on purpose. She turned to look at her attacker.

He was on his knees, sobbing. "Oh, Rowen, why did you do this to me?"

Tears still in his eyes he rose and picked up another a knife. Still, Rowen did not flinch. He removed the sheath, she stared at him. He took a deep breath and dragged the blade over his own hand. A bright line of blood appeared and a drop fell to the floor. He gathered his emotions as only he could do.

"When they come I will tell them of your treachery, that I was forced to kill you. This is your blood staining the floor." She put one of her daggers back into its scabbard. With a practiced hand, she held the right one. With a flick of her wrist, she could send it through the heart of the man in front of her. No.

Rowen cut her hand as well and grasped his. "Our blood is joined. We are family. I will find who this traitor is. Even if it kills me. Thank you, Father."

"Good-bye, my dear Rowen." Rowen went out through a window and fled into a forest. She was a ghost now. She was dead. She was alone. Again. Her mind sought to console her by bringing up memories from the past. Elizabeth. Dear Bit. She smiled as she thought about why she called her that. When Rowen had been just a little girl, just learning how to talk she had pronounced the Beth in Elizabeth as Bit. The nickname had remained long after she had learned how to say the name properly. How many times had she comforted her? How many times had she reassured her that she was important? One vivid occasion came back to Rowen. She had been nine. The fact that she had been abandoned on a doorstep had been haunting her that day. She had felt worthless.

The day came to her vividly, as if it was happening again.

It was a beautiful spring day in April. Elizabeth, finding her crying in the garden, asked, "Why, what ever is the matter with you, child?"

"No one wants me, Bit." The answer was accompanied with a few sniffles.

Elizabeth laughed. "I like that! Since when have I become a no one?"

"You know I did not mean it like that."

"Then, how did you mean it?" Elizabeth sat down on the ground beside Rowen, draping her arm around the girl's shoulders.

"My parents. They left me. They did not care what became of me." The shoulders hunched as Rowen tried to stop more sobs from coming.

"Rowen." There was a slight pause as Elizabeth thought of how to tell the girl she called her daughter the truth. "Let me tell you a story."

"Is is sad?"

"That all depends on how you take it."

A question flicked across Rowen's face. "I do not understand."

"Well, listen and maybe you will. About nine years ago, in the month of July, when the farmers were doing rowen, the second cutting of hay, a baby was found."

Astonished, Rowen turned to Elizabeth. "Was it me? The baby, was it me?"

"Yes. Now, listen! This baby, a girl, was left at Great Hall."

"What is the great hall?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Not the great hall; Great Hall. Could you stop asking questions and I tell this story?"

"Oh. Of course."

"Good. Anyway, Great Hall is that building on the hill where King Henry keeps some of his spies."

"Spies?" Elizabeth gave Rowen a disapproving look and she glanced at her toes in embarrassment. "Oh, my apologies."

"Yes, spies. Now, the man in charge of Great Hall, Edward, found this girl. It was at the time of day when the last light of the sun mixes with the growing shadows and creates a peaceful dusky feeling. Anyway, Edward could not find who had left the child. Now, Edward and I had been very good childhood friends. Life, as it tends to frequently, took us in different directions but we still remained in contact with each other. Because of this friendship, I was the first person Edward thought of and so he brought you to me. But whoever had left you on the steps of Great Hall, wanted you there for some reason. So it was decided, between Edward and I, that when you turned twelve, you would go to Great Hall and train."

"To be a spy?"

"To be a spy."

Rowen struggled for words. "Why? Why have you never told me this?"

"I never thought you were ready until now."

"But what ever does a spy do?"

"Spy, I suppose. If you want a more specific answer you shall have to ask Edward."

"Oh, I shall never turn twelve!"

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