Thursday, was cloudy and overcast. Light drizzles fell unexpectedly throughout the early morning. The morning, which seemed to have arrived a little too fast for Alexandra's liking.
She had spent the last night - and many before - trying to connect the scattered dots of Olivia's life. To find out why, it was Akwanda she chose, of all. So far, after a lot of mulling over, she had a generous idea as to why that could be so.
The first point, was the way society was. And in that, "elite" society with its deplorable notions and customs. Marriage alliances were delicate contracts - extreme carefulness went into them. In the elite notions, if a woman rejected a man, that was well and good. Nobody thought any worse of either of them. But the reverse, sadly, was not true. If a woman was rejected - it was a great insult, both to her and to her family. Additionally, the lady was looked down upon.
What had made matters worse in Olivia's case, was the fact that there had been no valid reason given along with the refusal. A simple, straight "no", which ought to have made things clear, had only complicated matters. And that was the reason Alexandra had felt Liam was at fault. She had, for at least once, sat down and wondered for herself, why the refusal when there was no reason for it. That had been when she was fourteen. Now, she knew better. A no, meant a no - and it could be coming for a woman or a man, a beggar or an heir, a child or an adult - but a no meant a no. And when it was given, there was no reason needed along. What was more: if he had given a reason, it was bound to be untrue - for they had never met in person. So, he had done what was right - but often, doing the right thing brought trouble.
That being said, a lot of should have's arrived in the picture. Olivia should have understood Liam's stand. Olivia should have respected his choice. Olivia should have moved on. Liam should have handled it better. He had had the time to write to Alexandra - he could have written to Olivia too.
He had the time to write to you once in two years. And what gives you the idea that he necessarily didn't write to her?
The logical part of Alexandra, her Mind, was annoying, but it brought forth undeniable facts. And of course, Olivia was secretive. Beyond secretive, she would regard any letter written by Liam, as her private property of sole ownership. Alexandra clearly remembered the day they had allowed a distant trader to amuse them with portraits of "eligible NOBLE bachelors and princes". A boring afternoon when she had been twelve. Aunt Sabel had been married six years before that date, and Olivia, who had been rather close to the aunt (the closest it was possible to be, in any case) had been dull and morose - even after SIX years, which was a little too much. Rose, her cheeks flushed and her blonde hair flying around, had announced of the trader who wanted entry. She had seemed so excited that the infectious eagerness had spread to the youngest and the eldest sister as well.
Mistress Olivia, seventeen, had skimmed through all the likenesses with a wrinkled nose and a persistent frown. Each time she had momentarily stopped at a picture, the trader had announced the name and designation of the personality staring back at them from the frame. Rose had stood at her shoulder and praised everybody. 'Oh he's got soulful eyes!' And, 'his grin is so modest, he must be a tender soul.' And the worst of them, 'ooooh, look at those battle scars! He'd fight the world for someone!'
Alexandra had stood at Olivia's other shoulder and criticized everybody. More in reply to Rose, than anything else, but it had been fun. 'Soulful eyes?' She had demanded, 'they are the shallowest pair I've ever come across!' And, 'he just isn't smiling broadly because doing that will throw all his wrinkles to light. He must be our father's age!' Finally, 'the things you call battle scars look like worms and slugs rolling on him. And they only show how violent he is.'
That had led to a small argument between her and Rose. When they had sorted it out and turned back to Olivia, they had found Liam's portrait in her hand - and a certain dangerously distracted look on her face, the wrinkle on her nose vanishing. Rose had gasped, 'he's perfect for you!' And that was the instant she had implanted the idea in Olivia's mind. Given her approval and support. But Alexandra hadn't had an equally good opinion of him. She had frowned and scoffed, 'perfect? He looks like a wolf.'
'You're abusing him!' Rose had hissed, horrified.
'Well, I'm not telling it to his face, am I?' She had replied, 'and who ever heard of yellow eyes?'
'They are golden.' Olivia had enlightened, in a low voice - a voice one could associate with breathlessness. 'And they are soulful. And he is modest. And he would fight the world for someone.' She had added, tracing a finger across his face. He could have been sixteen, or eighteen. Alexandra had taken only a single glance at him, perhaps he didn't looked like a wolf, but she had been sure that she didn't want him for a brother-in-law. 'I'm keeping this,' Olivia had told the trader, who had smirked and muttered something like "they always do". Then the lady had got up and walked over to the chamber's exit, halting only to clarify that, 'Alexandra, I like wolves.'
And that was how it had begun. Going on to five rejections - and perhaps, had she not accepted defeat - there would have been more. But those were the dots. And when she connected them, the only conclusion she could derive from it, was that Olivia intended to repay him for the insult. For in Doveland, they had always known that they stood no chance against Vedessa in a fair battle. And that had then been a weakened Vedessa - a misruled kingdom. Now that it was in full bloom of strength, Alexandra was very sure Olivia intended to do something lowly. Something similar to backstabbing - something calculated and snake-like. Besides, Akwanda's policies were strictly Anti-Vedessan. And they matched with hers, giving rise to the aforementioned arrangement. The truth was incorrigibly simple, but disgusting. Was it so difficult to move on? If somebody rejected Alexandra five times, she would either send him maggots (if she wanted ill of them) or she would send them lilies - the flowers of brother-sister ties.
But since nothing could change the past, and since she had to do the spying, she put on her Palace Attendant's attire and got into the Akwandian Palace that morning - which was quite easy, as the guards were having an intense argument on matrimony and its ill-effects - and let her in without a second thought. From within, the castle was a huge structure of red and yellow (or maybe, golden) - though dull gray on the exterior. It resembled a cupboard when compared to the Idgardian one. But the corridors were large, with polished gold floors and high rising chandeliers of crystal. But - it lacked the luster of a Castle. The luster, the glowing aura that the Idgardian Palace emanated, Alexandra came to realize, was unmatched.
'I'll look for somewhere I can listen to stuff from,' she muttered to herself, striding without making the slightest noise. She didn't have much time to admire or criticize the place. Her Dovish accent could save voice, not her face. The heart of the Palaces were considered "internal". They had the royal family's private chambers - and only trusted people milled about. But since she wasn't sure where anything was in the Akwandian Palace, Alexandra stumbled upon the innermost quarters. She stared around herself, the area had a prosperous look to it - but she knew the prosperity was fake. At its truest core, Akwanda was similar to any resource-lacking kingdom: it was poor. Poor might be its state, but a spy entering the inside wings of the Palace? It was the silliest mistake one could make.
Even so, she had not expected bouncing into Olivia that early.
'Lady Mimosa, is that you?' A familiar, commanding voice asked from behind, as Alexandra rushed ahead. It was slightly uncertain, but so harsh that she stopped at once, sweat beads trickling down her temple. Though the more practical way would have been to clarify that she was not Mimosa, she turned. And from beneath her veil, looked at the woman who had called her.
In spite of knowing it, preparing herself for it and in spite of duly recognizing the voice, seeing Olivia made Alexandra feel as if someone had punched her in the gut. Olivia - no princess now, but - the Queen of Akwanda.
'No, My Queen,' she squeaked in reply. It was alright - Olivia couldn't possible suspect it to be her. And acting normal was the best way out. 'I am just a maid,' she added, and bowed. Olivia took a a step towards her, so that when she straightened, Alexandra realized she was about three inches taller than Olivia. A little of the much needed confidence seeped into her.
'Maid? Your walk is quite sophisticated for a maid's, but,' Olivia pointed out, frowning.
Despite the question and the lie she was supposed to make in reply for it, Alexandra allowed herself to notice and wonder how her sister's face had got thinner - gaunter. Yet, she was still stunning. One look at her could make anybody smitten. And yet she also looked fiercer, partly obsessed. She looked like a no-nonsense Queen.
'My apologies,' Alexandra bowed again, 'there must have been some mistake on Your Highness' part,'
'Mistake? I do not think so. And you sound familiar. Lift your veil, maid. Let me have a look at you.' She commanded.
'I cannot lift my veil, Your Royal Highness,' Alexandra supplied, her palms felt cold, and sweaty. 'But I can tell Your Highness my story.' She added, gulping. She needed a quick, satisfactory tale ... a proper one. Perhaps one that had some tragedy in it, for the extra effect.
Perhaps something that could land a truly elite lady as a Palace Attendant. Additionally, a married one, to avoid any further trouble...
It was best to begin with that clarification. 'My husband, O Queen, was a nobleman in Ethoris,' she blurted out, 'I - I am high-born, however fate frowned upon us and he was imprisoned for crimes - treason and relations with enemies - something which he didn't ever have. Then, Your Highness, I came to Akwanda, my husband told me Ethoris was not worth living in.' She stopped for a small, realistic sniff. 'Only yesterday I have begun with my services here. I dare not lift my veil, Your Highness, since I've taken the oath of keep my face covered, forever, in order to mourn the dead goddess of justice in Ethoris, My Queen, and I'm shame-faced at the treatment meted out to us loyal citizens!'
'Oh,' Olivia registered, flickering her eyelids. And Alexandra knew her well - she had a special soft corner for ladies in distress, provided that the ladies were elite. Additionally, Ethoris was definitely an unjust place. 'In that case, at least tell me your name,' she entreated.
'Clementine, Your Highness,' Alexandra said, bowing low again. All the better, her mistakes could be forgiven - what did a noble lady know of attending upon people?
'Clementine, all right, you wait upon me while I'm attend to my Royal Duties today,' Olivia ordered. One had to be utterly foolish to employ a veiled servant - and Queenly Queen Olivia had already done the first mistake. Yet, she succeeded in making a slight tremor pass through Alexandra with it. Mainly because - Royal duties had never been her stronghold.
'A - as Your Highness wishes,' She said, nevertheless. There were a lot of important things one could hear, while waiting upon a queen. And it was her own eldest sister, there was no loss of dignity in doing it. Had it been anyone else either, she wouldn't have been bothered. Alexandra was a spy. Step 1 of being a spy was to eat, chew and swallow up your own pride.
***
And so it continued. From rolling lazily out of the bed at eleven, Alexandra was back at waking up at three everyday. She rushed to the Palace, waited upon her sister and returned at seven in the night to the inn. It was dull and boring. Following Olivia around everywhere, kneeling down and smoothing the pleats of the queen's robes, fanning her and rearranging her tresses almost ten times each day. She repeated: it was dull and boring. A part of Alexandra couldn't help wondering what things would have been like, in case Olivia would have been the Queen of Idgard.
She allowed herself to sit back and observe Olivia as a Queen. She then tried to imagine putting Liam beside her. It formed a dangerously attractive pair, perhaps they would both just sit and admire each other's face all day long. And yet, somehow, the match never fit - Olivia just didn't laugh frequently enough, and if Liam would have read her the way he read Alexandra, the Queen would have not been pleased in the slightest, for she prided her secrecy much too well. They would never be the "perfect together" couple, perhaps because each seemed more perfect independently. And above anything else - both were individuals who remained in their shells, who were impossible to read and enigmatic - for a successful relationship - they needed somebody whom they could open up to. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) Alexandra just knew they would never open up to each other. The reason being that frankness was an exchange. Nobody would like baring themselves to a masked entity - and Olivia and Liam were both thoroughly masked. They knew it. The only difference was that Liam accepted it, Olivia didn't - and so Akwanda and Vedessa continued to be at each other's throats. That was just as it was, and nobody could help it other than Olivia - who did not want to help it. The bottom line was that in spite of the other problems it had created, Alexandra was glad the Liam/Olivia matrimony hadn't occurred.
And then naturally, every place came with its own set of problems. Or a single, huge, inescapable problem. As in the case of Akwanda - it was the huge, towering, muscular and robust Prime Minister with a moustache to match and arms as big as elephant trunks.
He suspected her right from the beginning, when Alexandra had collided with him in a corridor. It had been a hard one, and his physique had reminded her of Blaise Quill. Not trusting herself to speak, for the fear of her Dovish accent distinguishing her from an Ethorian (a thing Olivia was too thick to notice), she had muttered an inaudible apology and bolted down the aisle. But ever since, she felt his stare on her - a hard, scary stare it was - and she had felt him calculating her worth.
One fine August day, he crossed Olivia - and Alexandra in tow - in the Main Hall - the time being six in the evening. Court had been dismissed and he was just leaving. It would have been perfectly alright had he left, but he could no longer hold himself.
'My Lady,' He said deferentially, bowing to Olivia. Alexandra jumped back, respectfully but alarmed. She cursed under her breath and remained close enough to be able to hear them, a thing the haughty minister seemed to have no problem with. His black eyebrows and bear-like build had seemed taut with stress. A stress that was being hidden, but that Alexandra the spy noticed and Olivia the queen did not.
'Yes, Minister?' She asked, distracted, staring back at Alexandra and shaking her head with an expression closest to he is a bothering personality.
'The new Maid, My Lady, doesn't she appear a bit - suspicious?' He pointed out, unaware of the Queen's opinion of him.
'Suspicious?' Olivia asked, now interested. 'Clementine, come here,' she ordered. Alexandra did, with a slight smirk and an unconcerned air. 'She? Suspicious? Minister, you must have made some mistake - she is a very efficient lady! And she had a stark sense of humor. A charming personality, despite all the misfortune.'
'A dangerous Personality, My Lady,' he corrected, in a voice so low that Alexandra had thought a man of his stature was incapable of. 'She had brought you under her influence!' He added, with unabashed directness. Some stress leaked out from him, entering Alexandra. But she needn't have worried - she had her eldest sister's confidence.
'Minister, won't I know if I am under someone's influence? You worry uselessly.'
'But, My Lady-'
'She is trustworthy, Minister,' Olivia pressed, now harsher and firmer. 'It's getting late - you should take for home.' She added, clearly showing she didn't want more discussion. The Minister shook his head helplessly - but he had no choice other than to leave. Alexandra knew, watching his retreating figure, that it wasn't over. Either she would use Moira on him, or he would succeed in getting her thrown out.
Either ways: either extremes.
***
Almost four months of the routine (being a maid was tough) and then came Alexandra's big break. When she later looked back to this day, she considered it as the beginning of her true spyhood. And the beginning of her own restoration to power.
Something about the day had seemed important from the beginning.
As she followed Olivia around, bowing and talking with a slight change of voice so that her accent was undetectable, as she pointed the other servants around, moving behind Her Royal Highness as usual, something felt different. There were dark circles under Olivia's eyes. She seemed vexed and touchy. Alexandra knew better than to bother her, but the curiosity in her stomach felt almost wary. All of it were markings - and yet - she acted, as Olivia did, normal.
After perhaps a lot of mulling over, Olivia waved her off. 'I wish, to be left alone,' she stated. Involuntarily, Alexandra made a face under her veil, and since she was always comparing the two in her head, she considered how Liam was much better. But when it came to spying at, Olivia was quite preferable - Alexandra was certain that Liam would see through such a plain trick within a minute. It was all the better, in any case - she hadn't had much inclination to be a Palace Attendant - and so, when Olivia ordered her away, the proposal was much welcome.
Alexandra nodded, bowed without a word and took her leave. She walked long enough for a deception, turned and spotted Olivia taking the way to her own chambers.
A sudden change in plans, was always suspicious. Alexandra instantly decided to follow her sister. Tiptoeing back the way she had come she followed the trail of Olivia's gold-embroidered gown - the only bit visible to her. In case Olivia turned, she had a hundred ready excuses, from "I need to take for the kitchens," to "I wanted to add a final thing, my lady, your Prime Minister is a fine but annoying man." Piling up more excuses in her head with each cushioned step, Alexandra reached a part of the Palace she hadn't been to before.
Olivia took the left, entering her private chamber. She looked left and right, and shut the door.
'That was uncharacteristic,' Alexandra muttered to herself. She pulled out the mop attached to her waist and pretended to be dusting the ornamental vases and the portraits kept adjacent to the chamber. And from her position near the door, she could hear ever word of the conversation inside. The door had a fine gap at its lower part.
'Greetings, Minister.' Came Olivia's voice, low and expectant, from within.
'Your Highness summoned me? Any special reason?' The familiar deep, responsible male voice asked - the Prime Minister.
'Yes, Minister. I want it done today. At 10:21 - as we, ah, discussed - and exactly at that, for it shall remind him of the insult. Not a single minute's delays - no further reasoning. I cannot bear counting these days one after the other. Alert the men - you are too prudent!' Olivia added, in one of her harshest, most commanding tones. A tone, Alexandra came to realize, she only used with the Minister.
Insult...
'Your Highness, it shall be unwis-' the man began.
'Are you calling me unwise, Minister?' She asked back, cutting him across, 'I know that King - I know him quite well. And he thinks too highly of himself. Even His Majesty agrees he can be dealt with, this way. So, I want him done with as soon as possible.'
Alexandra's grip on the mop slackened, and she almost dropped the vase she was polishing. Which King? If not...
And what did Olivia mean by as soon as possible? Akwanda was bad, but that didn't mean if someone rolled into mud they became one with it. How could Olivia blend in so quick? And so heartlessly? If the "done with" didn't mean "murdered", Alexandra would eat her mop. The simple word felt a crime. Assassination. If that was what they could do, why did everybody not send assassins to slit each other's throats?
'But Your Highness, their securities are too heavy to be outmatched!' The Minister tried to reason, although, both he and Alexandra knew that he was fighting a lost battle.
'Send the best men. Collaborate with the Espionage - and I don't care if they are loyal and honest or not. Pay them the handsomest sum possible! Get them to do it!' Olivia commanded. A couple of footsteps - light ones, Olivia's. Then - 'you know why I say this. Why the urgency - and I shall not repeat myself.' She stopped for a second, and Alexandra scurried to the door, pushing her ear against it. 'Send - at their head - Than.' Olivia exhaled.
Than.
The very name sent an involuntary shiver through Alexandra, a dull shudder, a heavy hopelessness. Than - a name all spies knew of exceedingly well. He was the most dreaded of assassins. Once his name was down for somebody, it was considered over - inescapable. Nobody knew his true name - they called him Than. They called him that, for the name meant "death".
He was not easy to spot - harder to employ - hardest to escape. But the fact that he was Akwandian was well known. For the past eighty odd years, Akwanda had fought no war. They had spent all resources on unknown schemes. Perhaps one result of those schemes was Than.
The minister exhaled. He seemed to be calculating - while he very well knew it was impossible. And even if possible, it was foolish. There would be a hundred guards - a thousand measures of security. And in case that king, whoever it was, survived ... Akwanda would be lost. But he then, perhaps, decided to let her make the mistake. Perhaps he understood there was no way he could argue with this Queen
'You realize, Queen, that the moment Than is unsuccessful in an assassination - he had sworn to give up the craft. You realize the risk of this gamble. You realize it is a gamble, in the first place?'
'I do.' Olivia replied, with unrelenting stubbornness. 'He is getting old, he has committed over five hundred murders. How much more can you expect? If he succeeds, I shall make sure he leaves the craft, in any case. This must be the last - and it is only fitting.'
'As you see fit. Let it be remembered that I did warn you.' Said the man, 'I did what I could and that you take sole responsibility of what shall follow. What shall follow, in case he survives - in case he unleashes his wrath upon our citizens.'
'I do.' She repeated. 'And I shall repeat it - so you may record it - I do.' Olivia returned.
'It is recorded, My Lady. And it shall be needed - how many men?' He asked, changing track lightening fast, yet sounding defeated and tired.
'We must give him credit of what he is - for that man's very skilled. At least a troop - half a hundred. All highly skilled - so he doesn't have any chance of winning over them. And yes-'
'Yes, Queen Olivia?'
'Tell them to make it quick. I'll give him a quick, if possible, painless death. I don't have much against Liam, except that he is an enemy, Vedessa is valuable and that he needs to die.'
When Alexandra heard the last word, her fingers went numb - and the ornamental vase dropped from her grip, falling and shattering into a hundred tiny pieces. She jumped, shock disappearing as familiar adrenaline coursed through her veins. Her first inclination was to run, but she knew she needed a better trick this time - and it came readily to her. She picked out, for she always carried them, a wad of cotton - freed it and plugged in her ears.
She bent down and began collecting the pieces, as though nothing much had happened. The room had gone silent. In any case, she couldn't hear much. Then, the door behind her opened - and out walked the huge man, with his dangerous walrus moustache. He looked left and right, then straight at Alexandra, who was picking up the fallen shards.
He bent down and caught her by the wrist. The minister pulled her up and in, towards the room with brute force, such that she barely managed to step over the glass. He then gave her a hard push, but Alexandra had more strength than he could have imagined. Although she had wanted him to do it, she felt a hot anger bubbling and swelling in her chest for him. But it was no time to be angry - there was no time to be anything - other than smart. She didn't move an inch with his push - instead, she walked over to Olivia, calmly.
Alexandra pulled out the cotton plugs from her ear. So that Olivia could see she had been wearing them. And she bowed.
'Your Highness, may I request the Minister here to not touch me next time? I'm somebody's wife.' She said, savoring the after-effect of her lie. If truths were bitter, lies were all else. There were sweet lies, spicy lies, salty lies and sour lies. This one definitely had spice to it.
'Minister.' Olivia said, a bit firmly. Her trust was unwavering - Alexandra knew. Olivia was naïve - yet she was evil. She was a paradox. 'Her ears were plugged in-' she began, but the minister was not done yet,
'How can you be sure that this girl didn't hear anything?! How can you trust her, My Lady, when you have not even seen her face?!' He asked, striding over to them. 'Sometimes, you must accept other's counsel - for you cannot be right in all matters.' He added, clearly for the assassination matter. Alexandra smirked - and it turned to a grin as he thrust his hand across and pulled at her veil, yanking it off her face. 'We shall have the truth now - ten to one, she's spy.' He declared.
It had been easy to trick him.
Alexandra smacked her tongue in satisfaction at her own craftiness. She wore three veils - it was a simple precaution. First a very light white one - bought for a bronze coin at a cheap store. Beyond it a red one and - finally her black veil. But he had had done what she wanted him to. He had played his part foolishly well. Now it was her game -
'Your Highness!' Alexandra yelped out in fury. 'This is an attempt I shall not tolerate! Your minister had tried to rob a chaste wife of her oath! I demand justice!' She exclaimed, throwing her mop down. She could have drawn Moira, but perhaps that would be a bit too much.
'Clementine, calm down,' Olivia began, 'I trust you!'
'Yes, Your Highness! You trust me.' She repeated, bitterly. 'But your trust, your judgement is not enough for your minister! He has dared to break my vow - and I want justice! Either I shall remain in Akwanda, or he shall!'
'Clementine!' Olivia said, as the Minister looked wide-eyed at the two women, afraid to speak, but well-aware of Alexandra's trick. It was almost pitiable a state he was in, one Alexandra hoped to never find herself. But if it meant keeping Than away from Liam - she knew what was to be done. It was not out a sense of duty, it was out of a realization that one couldn't let certain people be harmed.
'No, Queen Olivia.' She raised her palm up, in refusal to hear out more. 'I cannot remain here under one roof with this man. Either it's me, or it's he!'
'Clementine-!'
'No - I've had enough. Choose it!'
'Clementine, enough!' Olivia lashed out, her eyes bulging in fury. Alexandra understood, she had pushed her enough. Now the eldest sister had lost her judgement of right and wrong. She'd make a hasty decision.
'Yes, My Lady?' She asked, tilting her head. She knew what Olivia would do now - she just knew.
'You know Horse-riding?' The Queen asked. The minister wanted to interrupt, he opened his mouth - but Olivia raised her hand to stop him, fixing him with one of her dangerous stares. He gulped and stopped. Finally - somebody had quietened that harsh voice.
'Yes, Your Highness,' Alexandra said, bowing low.
'Very well. Take your things, take any one horse from the stables. And get lost!' She exclaimed, muttering something like idiots. 'I don't want to find you within this place after an hour. You get it, Clementine?'
'Yes, My Lady,' Alexandra said, bowing. She smirked to herself. A free ride to Idgard, was all she needed. And yet, she needed to hurry.
'Leave,' Olivia commanded, 'your services are no longer required.'
Of course they were required. Not by Olivia - by somebody else.