On The Edge of a Blade

Chapter 14.1

Time was not in Rose’s favor. As the day dragged on, her window of opportunity began to close, becoming tangibly narrower as the sun ticked its way forward. And, all the while, she could feel a pair of eyes trained upon her back, silently sizing her up. It was an odd sensation, considering the fact that she was accustomed to being on the opposite side of the exchange. She truly didn’t like the feeling of paranoia and anxiety blanketed over her.

A few times, while her wandered vigilantly out of habit, Rose caught sight of Bridgett. Exchanging gazes once throughout a busy day could easily have been a coincidence; after multiple occasions, however, Rose couldn’t help but become suspicious. Together with their interesting conversation that morning, Bridgett’s every singular hint of unusual conduct was worth examining.

Even if all of this turned out to be nothing, Rose couldn’t deny the weight placed upon her shoulders. Invisible hands pushed her forward and disembodied whispers coaxed her on throughout the day, reminding her of the clock’s disregarding haste. It only got worse as she continued to do nothing.

To be fair, she never even had the slightest of chances to get near the king. Though the increased amount of chaos within the serving class was indisputable, there was also a certain amount of pandemonium surrounding the upper classes as well. This would have been ideal if not for the fact that much of the activity happened to surround the very person Rose was targeting.

As the afternoon sun dragged its way into the sky, Rose knew that she was in a tight spot. She had sworn off killing James, a task which was made difficult thanks to an inert and at least somewhat unbecoming loyalty to the prince, and switched her sights to the king, finding him to be a target far more worthy of her pointed fury. The thing that put her in a bad position was that she had not, even with all of her hatred and all of this time, made any gains in the endeavor.

Had she become so impotent an assassin that all of her infamy would die at what could easily be the height of her career? Rose could picture the glory and grandeur which would follow the assassination of King Vincent, but there was still something holding her back from attaining that ultimate eventuality.

For the first time in her life, Rose was having difficulties in her profession. The inspiration behind her refusal to kill James was apparent, but she had a world of trouble understanding why things were going so poorly in her attempt to kill the king she had long despised. After a lifetime of easy kills, this was the first one which had presented her with an authentic struggle, as though the Heavens themselves were dead set upon her inevitable failure.

If the thorns of a rose lost their bite, would its petals also lose their chance at survival? If, as she feared, life truly walked hand in hand with reputation, Rose knew that all would soon be lost. Unless, of course, she built herself a new legacy from dust, a legacy centered upon her triumph over the immoral anarchists! If taking down evil figures such as Shilah translated to becoming a hero of the kingdom, then perhaps Rose would entertain the prospect as a possible way to keep herself on top of the social food chain. The only problem with this plan being that no one would believe that a ruthless assassin could ever transform into a shining hero, regardless of any proof presented to them.

So, after a day of complacently sweeping floors and washing windows, Rose decided to be done with waiting. If finding a way to slip about in daylight proved unsuccessful, then she had only one choice: to stick to the shadows which she had long since befriended.

Night fell upon the kingdom. As other servants tended to candles, lighting wicks with trembling flames, Rose made a point of sinking into the darkness. While everyone else was eating dinner, she slipped away and headed back to the room she shared with Bridgett. As soon as she was alone, she locked the door and rushed to the dresser.