One way to be discreet was to use poison. No blood, no mess except pain to the person that was unknowingly awaiting it. The one I picked was a clear liquid that left no marks or trail of anything, and the poor soul who would end up drinking this would seemed to have died a 'natural death'. I'd done it before and I was about to do it again.
I was waiting outside his window, watching the man fall asleep. He was old, with a graying beard.
Did I have to do this? What if I failed? What if I hesitated like I did with Lorelle and Demetria? Questions flooded my brain as I swatted each one of them away in annoyance. Just go to sleep, fool.
Would they ever trust me again? No.
Do they trust me now? No.
What did I have to lose?
As soon as I heard his snores through the window, I pushed up the window and slithered in silently. As I approached the bed I thought, what if I can't do it anymore? What if I really have changed? I expected my arm to jerk back any second as I pulled out the glass vile and stared at it. I looked back at the man's snoring mouth, wide open and ready for the poison. I pulled off the cork.
And I tipped it over.
It was quick and simple-over before I even realized I'd done it. I slipped out of the chamber, only catching sounds of his gurgles and gasps for breath.
But there was a feeling deep down inside me. A feeling that I realized was the truth. The fact that killing someone for a reason I hadn't clearly known wasn't what I'd call 'right', even if I didn't have a say in it. But I knew what I had to do and I was going to do it, smiling.
"I haven't changed a bit, have I?" I whispered to myself. "I guess that's a good thing." I lit a candle and ripped out a paper, making sure I fed Xavier's messenger bird waiting for letter. I grabbed a quill and dipped it into the ink bottle, and began writing. Halfway through the letter I snatched it up and ripped it to shreds, collapsing on a char. "This is foolish." I pushed my hair back out of my eyes and leaned on the desk, letting out a frustrated groan. "I'm talking to myself. I really have lost it, haven't I?"
After ten minutes of thinking, I scooted my chair back under the desk and began writing again. I wasted a lot of time thinking before I made up my mind and rolled it into a scroll, tying it to the falcon's leg.
"You're back," he scoffed.
"I just want to talk to you," I tried to explain.
"There's nothing to talk about." Lance turned his face away.
"I am risking everything to be here," I told him, turning the key in the cell lock. "This is important." The lock clicked and I pushed the door, climbing inside.
He scanned my face with his forest green eyes and set his jaw. There was a long cut right over the side of his eyebrow, and his cheeks looked hollow. I found myself reaching up to touch the wound before I could stop myself. "Why do you keep coming here?" he asked, pushing my fingers away. "Haven't you gotten everything you need from me?"
I chewed the inside of my lip. "Not yet."
He looked at my face, his eyebrows knitting together. "What do you mean?"
"You just need to trust me."
"You lost my trust a long time ago."
"Do you trust me?" I repeated, ignoring his comment. I crouched so close to him he had to rest his head against the wall.
"I-"
"Lance."
"I . . . I do." He looked angry at himself for doing so as he pulled his hands up to cover his face. I held out my hand because there was nothing else left for me to do. I let it stay there, in midair, heavy as lead until he finally took it. I held it close, letting out a deep breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Good." I began explaining the plan to him. "And that's where you come in," I finished.
Bewildered, he choked out, "Does the prince know about this?"
"No. Not yet," I said quietly, holding Lance's bruised arm, because it could be the last time I ever saw him.
"So you're. . ." Lance trailed off.
"It doesn't matter what I am," I said to Lance, feeling my stomach turn. "As long as I live up to my promise."
I was surprised when he pulled me into his arms. "Do what you have to do," he said against my cheek, and I, surprised, sat there limply.
"You want me to what?" Xavier asked. "Why?"
"Please Xavier. It's important," I pleaded.
"Care to share?" he raised his eyebrow.
"You know I never care or share. This is . . . a personal matter," I stuttered. "Do this for me. I'll pay you?"
He threw back his head and laughed loudly. "No bribes. I actually pay you."
"It's important," I continued, opening my mouth to say more, but Xavier took a step forward, nearly closing the space between us, and shut me up.
"Alright, alright. I'll tell my father to have a masquerade ball instead. Happy?" He narrowed his eyes. "What are you planning?" I wanted to take a step back to give me room to breathe, but that would mean stepping down from my strong position.
I averted my eyes. He wouldn't budge, but the annoyance on my face gave me an excuse to give him a shove. I could breathe. "Tell him now. The ball is in two days. I love masks. I also don't want one of the RA to see my face, or the King's Assassin will be confirmed."
He set his jaw. "Whatever you wish."
"Thank you," I nodded, slightly breathless. How many times had he said those three words to me? I owed him my life.
The dress was made exclusively for me. It was a beautiful peacock style dress with a midnight black skirt and a green, jeweled bodice. Multicolored feathers decorated the waist and spread out exquisitely throughout the skirt, fading into the folds and colors. My mask was handmade, with a few feathers decorating the black edges and sharp angles outlining a small beak. The shoes were spectacular; ebony with dangerously high heels, fashioned specifically to match the dress. The masterpiece sparkled from a mile away, with jewels gently dabbed at the corners of my eyes.
All I hoped was that they received the letter and knew what to do.