"Please take the cars to the Kingsrose bay, but park them close to the canal," Penelope requested. "Make sure the lights and engines are turned off, and stay alert."
"Are you certain you don't want us to find a closer spot for you?" the chauffeur asked.
Penelope answered with a decisive nod. "You are aware of the protocol if there should be trouble?"
"Yes, ma'am. All your drivers have memorised and practised the codes. We are leaving nothing to chance."
"That is heartening to hear, Mills," she replied, mustering a faint smile as the chauffeur respectfully tipped his hat to her and returned to the car. The row of vehicles pulled away from the curb and headed for the parking spaces at the rear of the headquarters.
On the pavement, Esther waited. Despite the discomfort and limited flexibility of her new uniform, the advisers promised it would help her blend in. If it sufficiently masked her outsider status and allowed her to go unnoticed, she was willing to bear it for a few hours. But she did miss the balanced weight of her cape strapped to her shoulders. It had been with her from her first day at the academy, opting to mend and customise it as she matured instead of replacing it. Although she'd been given assurances that her belongings were safe at the Kingsrose estate, she felt their absence when she wasn't nearby.
As Penelope ascended the gradual slope to the entryway, Esther fell in beside her, her array of advisers positioning themselves within in the procession.
Five connected towers rose around a central courtyard, bleak structures leaking out water doused in an artificial viridescent glow. Esther craned her neck to get a better view, following the undulating lines.
"It was once believed that the colour green represented power," Penelope explained, watching as her bodyguard's scrutiny scoured the industry hub.
Penelope's glance at the mace on her belt didn't escape the mage's notice. Numerous individuals who had witnessed her fight at the Ironstrike prison would be there, and she anticipated their reactions would be anything but pleasant. It made no difference. Her purpose was to protect her charge, not concern herself with irrelevant opinions. Although she was itching for another tussle with them, she had a job to do.
"How many exits are there?" Esther questioned, locked on to the looming structure.
"Four downstairs, three on the upper level balconies where we will be holding the meeting," Penelope responded, methodically combing down the list in her mind. "The only others would be the windows, but as you can see, there are hundreds of those."
A click caught on Esther's tongue as she calculated numbers and odds. People were unpredictable, but their choices were not, making her task slightly less challenging. "Windows I can work with. Any basements?"
"None."
"Roof access?"
"Single route up and down. There is a corridor located behind the meeting room that provides entry."
"If it's so convenient for intruders to get in, wouldn't it make more sense to have the talks somewhere else?"
"Maybe so, but the other heads believed it would only express vulnerability and anxiety," Penelope conceded. "For once, I agree with them. I will not cower, Esther."
Something in Penelope's tone struck the mage. The way it shook, ever so slightly, before she promptly recomposed herself. It might have gone unnoticed by the rest of the entourage, but she was observant enough to detect it. Fear consumed the Kingsrose proprietor, and she couldn't blame her. Her struggle for good had only resulted in her becoming a target.
Upon entering the building, Esther inhaled, the oppressive air surging into her lungs and forcing her to regulate her breathing to adapt to the atmosphere. She remained in position while Penelope submitted the names of her companions to the receptionist. When it reached her turn, the woman behind the desk flashed her a wary look and continued typing. Content with their identities and paperwork, they were signalled to proceed to the lifts at the far end of the entry hall.
"For the most part, you will be stood with the other bodyguards," Penelope told her as the retinue regrouped. "And not to worry, you will not be expected to speak either. It's likely that other industry leaders might be curious, but I'll do my best to handle it, so you have no reason to talk to them."
"Is my distaste of conversation so obvious?" Esther said, half-jokingly.
"It is not," Penelope assured her, "but I can read people rather well."
Temporarily separating from the group, Esther followed the Kingsrose head into a private lift, wondering what else her generous host could potentially have discerned about her. She had assumed she had done a good job of cloaking her emotions, but she understood that those experienced in observing others may have seen past her mask.
Penelope cleared her throat and wrung her hands as they rushed to the pinnacle of the building. "There's something I need to share with you, but it's absolutely vital that it is kept between us."
Esther spotted a slight tremor in her hand as she reached into her pocket and passed over a note. Opening it revealed a black frame. She checked the back to see if there were any words on the opposite side, but it remained blank.
"The assassin is coming after me," Penelope said with as much composure as she could retain.
"How do you know?"
"Because that is a funeral notice sheet. In Lumen, notices like these are issued when a person of status passes away. I received this a few weeks ago. My informants assured me none of the others have been sent one."
Part of Esther secretly wished that another industry boss had been the intended target, it would certainly simplify her job, but at least now she was aware. "Why didn't you bring this up earlier?"
"I am never alone," Penelope replied. "I am surrounded by people I do not know I can trust. But I do not get that sense of wariness with you." Her expression carried a sincere apology, tinged with a slight reassurance. "I told you I read people well. I do not want to doubt my household, but I have to be cautious. As my bodyguard, it's important for you to be informed of the risks you may encounter too."
Esther returned the empty piece of paper. She had been spoiling for a fight, and it seemed she would have the opportunity to do so, although not in the form she wanted. "They do say forewarned is forearmed," she said. "And I am suitably armed."
* * *
"I cannot comprehend why you are so obstinate on the matter," Master Tobin Wrenlow asserted. "The four of us have managed to reach an accord, but as usual, you dig your heels in."
"Your proposals do not align with the concerns of Lumen," Penelope replied, level-headed and resolute. Her voice betrayed little of the frustration coursing through her at yet another round of interrogation over her management style.
"If the suggested policy changes do not serve Lumen's best interests, then whose?" Edgar Ironstrike challenged. "I find it hard to believe that you are implying our propositions are self-serving. If that were true, the city would be in ruins."
Penelope sensed the smug expression on his face without needing to look. Each meeting, they consistently manipulated her words to portray her as the outcast, burdening her with the responsibility of single-handedly holding back damaging laws to safeguard her own employees from the excessive cruelty of her peers. Her father had fought the same battle, her grandmother, and great-grandmother before him. They kept her occupied with protecting her own people to hinder her from interfering in their matters, and it was becoming increasingly challenging to hold them at bay.
"Miss Kingsrose, your lenient approach with your employees does not make you the hero you so desperately desire to be," Tobin argued, as if addressing a child. "It is important for all of us to unite and ensure that the city operates with discipline and order. Without it, there will be anarchy."
There already is anarchy, Penelope kept behind clenched teeth. Have you not seen the riots in the streets? Are you deaf to the pleas of your own people, desperate for even a sliver of compassion?
Despite the clear difference between discipline and outright torture, the others did not care for such discrepancies. In their mind, they were one and the same. "May I remind you of the Law of Families?" she stated. "Each of us has the freedom to run our factions according to our own judgement. Your persistence in imposing your policies on my district comes close to violating the code we all agreed to abide by. Is that not correct, Master Wrenlow?"
"My intention is solely to safeguard you, my dear," Tobin responded. "You only took over from your late father a few years ago, and I would hate to see you fall into the same trap he did. When you offer your employees too much freedom, there is a risk of them exploiting you, as with him."
Penelope persisted in her quarrel, and Esther admired her commanding presence as she dauntlessly held the fort for the Kingsrose district, forbidding any malice from pervading those walls. She had a hunch that if Penelope had the means, she would have interfered in every punishment and act of savagery, in order to spare anyone she could, whether they were her employee or not. She had a strong attachment to both the city and its inhabitants, and she refused to conceal that fact.
However, if she wanted the other leaders to uphold the laws regarding her own liberties in managing the Kingsrose territory, she couldn't manipulate them for personal gain, regardless of good intentions. Esther speculated about the other measures that barred her from acting on behalf of other Lumen workers, the additional regulations that her associates leveraged to preserve their power.
Discreetly readjusting her stance, she considered the faces at the table. While Penelope engaged in a heated dispute with Tobin and now Emalie Featherheart, she became aware of Ironstrike's piercing amber scrutiny. The debate faded into insignificance as he redirected his regard to the outsider in their ranks.
Esther maintained a neutral appearance, clenching her fists to hide the storm within her. The mere sight of that man triggered the haunting image of the Ironstrike workers on their knees, the crackle of the neck braces merging with the cries of the unjustly punished. She didn't think she would ever forget the sickening sound of Edgar's mocking laughter from his elevated box, or the pungent odour of charred flesh that clung to her clothes in the days after she had intervened. And Gabriel. Poor boy had been scared witless. She couldn't be sure if it was the punishment or her rather daring appearance that had startled him, but at least he had escaped the situation. Wherever he was now, she hoped he found safety.
Ironstrike sneered and returned himself to the discussion. Although tempted to remove the smirk from his face, Esther had made a commitment to behave and recognised being in his presence might be an opportunity to cultivate her patience. He would suffer the consequences of his actions. All she had to do was wait.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she detected subtle movements as a bodyguard discreetly inched closer, mindful not to disturb the important meeting.
"Hey," the guard said with a welcoming smile, itching underneath her ponytail. "I'm Cammie, Miss Featherheart's security. You're Esther, right? The mage from Solgarde?"
"That's me," Esther replied, making an effort not to lose concentration. Nothing appeared amiss and the five heads seemed so engrossed in their argument that she doubted they would notice her conversing, at least for a few minutes.
"How are you finding Lumen?" Cammie asked.
"I don't think you want me to answer that."
The Featherheart bodyguard gave an understanding shrug and rocked on her heels, stretching her legs to alleviate the cramps from standing still. Across the room, another guard scowled at her from his stationary position, and she discreetly threw him an obscene gesture. "Is it true you have magic?" she whispered to Esther, undeterred by her colleague's disdain.
With her dedication intact, the mage nodded and kept her attention on her surroundings and the woman under her protection.
"You're fortunate to be assigned to Miss Kingsrose," Cammie remarked, observing her vigilant watch over her charge. "But you should be wary. No matter how nice she might seem, they all like to collect rare things. Since you now serve the families, they may be reluctant to release you."
"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Esther affirmed.
"Don't you think they know that?"
Esther finally tore her gaze from Penelope and directed it at the shorter guard. Contrary to her suspicion, she did not seem jealous, but genuinely fearful.
At that moment, she came to understand her significance to them. They saw her as neither an oddity nor an outsider; she was a weapon, and her mere presence among them made her dangerous. She was not immune to their persuasion. After all, she had accepted the duty of protecting them because they possessed something she needed.
"Nobody is truly invincible," Cammie said, repositioning herself a few steps away from Esther. "Doesn't matter how good of a fighter you are. They'll get you, by fair means or foul. Never forget that."
* * *
Penelope dabbed a couple of small drops of perfume onto her wrists and shook them dry, stifling the yawn irritating her throat. Subtle smudges under her eyes betrayed her fatigue as she organised her assortment of creams and lotions.
After their return, she ensured Esther was nearby. Conscious of the possibility of an attack during the meeting, she tried her best to stay calm and hide any signs of nervousness to uphold her authority among the other attendees. But that moment never came, leaving her even more tense than before.
In the mirror's reflection, she watched Esther perched on the windowsill, her legs neatly angled to the side and her feet tapping a rhythm on the dense carpet. Regardless of her height and the low window, she managed to fold herself to fit, untroubled by the inconvenience as she concentrated on the dimmed garden outside.
The way she sat, expectant and attentive, stirred memories of the princesses Penelope read about when she snuck into the library at night during her childhood. How the imprisoned princess would linger by the window for her prince to whisk her away and transport her to a brighter life. Yet Esther was no helpless royal, and Penelope had faith in her capability to rescue herself if the need arose. That girl would battle tooth and nail to liberate herself rather than sticking around for someone to save her.
"You conducted yourself well during the talks," she said, applying a thin layer of moisturiser and massaging it into her skin. "I'm certain that some were waiting for an opening to challenge my decision to hire you, but you didn't provide them with any ammunition. You did yourself and me proud."
Esther ceased her tapping motions. The unexpected sincerity in Penelope's voice and her heartfelt beam made her throat tighten with emotion. "Thank you," she mustered through the odd sensation in her chest.
Pride swelled within Penelope at the tiny, unstoppable smile she received in response. She dusted a light layer of powder on her cheeks and poked at the delicate wrinkles near her eyes. "I should be the one expressing my gratitude. You have stayed with me all evening while I rambled on about my problems."
"I don't mind," Esther replied absentmindedly, her attention diverted by her search of the maze-like hedges and the sprouting rose bushes. Throughout her stay, she came to the understanding that Penelope had nobody to confide in, not in a way that wouldn't cause potential repercussions in the future, and their conversation in the lift before the meeting confirmed as much.
Prior to meeting Oscar and Alek, she experienced a similar corralling, her every word closely monitored by her parents and tutors. Every time she showed any level of dissent from Cavelli custom, she was firmly reminded of her identity and the expectations placed upon her. Making the decision to detach from her roots and let go of her heritage had not been easy, but ultimately, she had no regrets. She was free to decide who she was, tied to nothing and no one.
"If you are tired, you may retire for the night," Penelope advised. "We've both had an exhausting day."
"I'm fine," Esther said, shifting from the gardens and relieving the discomfort in her thighs. "Since you got that warning, it might be wise for me to remain here a little longer, at least until the guards have swapped over."
Rising in a trace of scented beauty products, Penelope typed at the monitor by the doorway of the dressing room. "In that case, I'll request some refreshments. Would you like a cup of hot chocolate or tea?"
"Tea, please," she answered, drawing out the words as a piercing presence bit into her senses. Harnessing her powers, she rose from the ledge and gazed out of the cross-hatched window, squinting through the patterns and leftover rain droplets. The fabric of the world moved differently here compared to the centre of Lumen. It took her a while to familiarise herself with the sensation of the Kingsrose district, studying how the pendulum transitioned between day and night. Mostly, it ebbed in natural waves, but every now and again she felt a prickle of a sinister undercurrent, something lurking beneath the surface. But it wasn't waiting anymore. It was close.
"Esther?" Penelope said within the unsettled quiet. "Is everything all right?"
Esther extended her hand to prevent her from nearing the window, leaning forward until her forehead almost connected with the cold glass. Her breath crawled in patches on the transparent squares.
A shadow flickered over the top of her vision before the pane smashed, mucky boots colliding with her shoulder. She met the carpeting with a huff, the wind nearly knocked from her lungs as she hit the vanity table on the way down. With no time to recoil or process the abrupt arrival, she lashed out and delivered a powerful kick to the back of the trespasser's legs, forcing him onto his knees. As he flailed and made a feeble attempt at a counterattack, she snatched his wrists, immobilising him on the soft carpet and uncovering his head. Recognition flashed in the attacker's eyes as he gaped up at her.
"Who is that?" Penelope asked, shuffling closer.
"Stay back," Esther ordered, coughing as she regained her breath and stared down at Gabriel. What was he doing there? He was no assassin, so why was he pretending to be one?
In the seconds before a fourth energy made contact with her magic, she quickly grasped the strategy, managing to reclaim her balance as the door swung open and a bullet embedded itself in the wall near the dresser mere inches from its target.
Seizing a book from the sideboard, she hurled it at the true assassin's face. She wrenched her mace from her belt before he could recover from the hit, revolved it on the chain, and thrust the rune-covered ball upward into his chin.
An agonised cry burst from the man and he crumpled, gun spiralling and spinning to a stop underneath the wardrobe. Esther infused her palm with a binding spell and poised it above him, droplets of magic ensnaring him in her power. He spat out a sticky, crimson glob as Darrien barged in, accompanied by a squadron of guards. Everywhere they looked, they witnessed the aftermath of the chaos: a vanity table upturned, shattered glass from the window and mirror strewn about, and the intense smell of sweat and blood overpowering the flowery perfumes.
"Arrest him!" Esther demanded, shocking them into action. Darrien apprehended the assailant and secured his hands, yanking him to his feet and ordering him to stop complaining as he towed him out of the room.
Esther rushed over to Penelope and aided her up from her hiding place by the dresser. Finding nothing but shakes and wide eyes, she looked back to the window. The carpet bore a few remaining blood splatters, but the former Ironstrike guard was long gone, taking with him Esther's hope for some answers.
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