If Lyrani hadn't woken up to see Trelle's sleeping form outlined by the soft sunlight sneaking through the gap between the curtains that morning, she might've thought the previous night was a strangely vivid dream.
There was no sign of the frustrated, insecure ECISI agent who had woken Lyrani up to share mission updates and fallen asleep beside her.
Trelle was back to her confident, business-like self. She was in charge, and she hadn't let Lyrani forget it during the hours they spent getting dressed for the ball. Lyrani's legs were already exhausted from following her so-called lady's orders, and she hadn't even accomplished her biggest task for the night.
Vlitavia Palace's spiralling stairs had never felt so long. The night had never weighed so heavily on Lyrani.
"Lyrani, could you be any more suspicious?" asked Trelle through her teeth, keeping her perfect smile frozen in place.
Lyrani started where she walked beside the senior agent. "Probably. Why?"
Trelle turned to her. "You look like you're about to throw up."
That didn't surprise Lyrani. It was exactly how she felt, but she thought she was hiding it better than that.
She couldn't shrug off the feeling that something was going to go wrong tonight.
The cold presence from the dark, lonely bedroom lingered nearby, even as the guests danced and chatted in the ballroom two branches above. Sometimes it was a shadow that stirred at the corner of Lyrani's eye. Sometimes it was a sudden wisp of air streaking across her shoulder blades like an icy finger.
"This is a ball, okay? Lots of people will be there. No ghost is going to get you." Trelle touched Lyrani's elbow.
Perhaps Trelle's reassurance would've worked if Lyrani planned to spend her whole evening at the ball, but she didn't.
She was sneaking up to the royal family's apartments again.
If that thing that had attacked Lyrani yesterday was still looking for her, she was as good as delivering herself into its waiting hands.
She shivered at the thought until the couple walking ahead distracted her from it.
An elf with hair as white as ice wore a glimmering, figure-hugging dress that looked as though it had been woven onto her body by a spider. Her companion wore a black tunic shimmering with dark dragon scales.
Lyrani could almost hear Omiane and Dessie squealing and swooning over the marvellous sight.
Yet among the sleeves of butterfly wings, bodices of crystal-embedded silk spun from water, and skirts of glossy feathers Lyrani had already glimpsed, there was only one showstopper present that night, and her name was Lady Trelle Lore.
Both she and Lyrani wore gowns sewn from the fabric of night. Trelle's dress gleamed like the sky, covered with too many handfuls of stardust to count. Lyrani's gown, on the other hand, only had a sprinkle scattered over it as she had requested. The less she sparkled, the better her chance of not being seen.
Her dress was designed with her duty in mind, a tell-tale sign of Dessie's hand in making it. It was a simple sheath shape with thin straps, easy for Lyrani to run in, while Trelle's was strapless with a long train that could serve a seduction but foil an assassination attempt as surely as capture would.
Lyrani was the last person to gush over dresses, but there was no denying that this one was a masterpiece, falling elegantly from Trelle's tall frame. Lyrani was so busy admiring it that she didn't hear what the other agent was saying.
"I asked if you could pick up my train."
Lyrani blinked. "Why?"
"So that I can make an entrance." Trelle enunciated each word as if she was talking to a child.
"What do I look like, your maid?" The words were out of Lyrani's mouth before she could stop them.
The senior agent raised an eyebrow in reply.
Lyrani sighed, resigning herself to Trelle's command.
It was only a few more days of pretending, a few more days until Lyrani could discard this cover and not have to worry about blowing it in front of other people and earning herself a death sentence.
She took hold of the silky night material in both hands then straightened, lifting it.
Lyrani had been undercover as a maid with Trelle before, but never as her maid. It was a strange dynamic to fabricate. She doubted she'd get used to it.
She had never liked being ordered around, and there was nothing Lady Trelle did better. Lyrani pitied her real-life maids. They didn't have it easy.
Trelle glided the rest of the way up the stairs while Lyrani trailed behind her, a mere mortal.
The marshal stopped them at the tapered, wrought iron doorway at the top. He gave Trelle that smile that people always had for her. She whispered her name in his ear. Lyrani was, as usual, invisible.
"Lady Trelle Lore of Irylen," the marshal boomed, his voice somehow overpowering the chatting voices and clinking shoes filling the ballroom.
Naked black trees stood in pots around the circular space, their branches forming a lacy ceiling twined with glowing crystals. They shone off the countless jewels adorning the guests beneath them.
Lyrani hadn't seen so many people in one room in years. It was exhilarating and terrifying. It made her remember what it was like to be a lady, attending parties like this every weekend, and it reminded her that she was no longer one.
King Nash was speaking with Benje on the far side of the room, but he turned to watch as Trelle and Lyrani entered. As she walked after the senior agent, Lyrani felt ridiculous.
She had grown up as someone whose train would be held when she attended important events. It was strange to be the person doing the holding.
That had to be why Lyrani felt self-conscious. After all, all eyes were on Trelle. Nobody saw Lyrani following her, nothing more than a shadow sprinkled with some sparkles.
At least that was what she thought until she looked up and met an amber gaze across the room.
In that moment of eye contact with the king, Lyrani's heart leapt into her throat, nearly choking her. She looked away.
This was the man she was going to kill tonight. Looking into his eyes was unwise, lest she remember he was just a person, just like her.
Lest she lose her nerve.
Trelle stopped at the centre of the ballroom, in the circle of all the gazes she had drawn.
"May I set thy train upon the ground, lady most fair?" asked Lyrani.
Trelle giggled. "You may."
She turned to Lyrani, her eyes sparkling with the admiration she had drunk in upon her entrance.
She flourished in it. If she was a plant, it was her sunshine, which was why she was an unusual agent. Still, she got her job done.
"Good luck," said Lyrani.
"I think you need it more than I do." With a wink, Trelle approached her target.
Lyrani shook her head after her. Typical Trelle.
Heads turned as Trelle crossed the room to where the king stood awaiting her. His gaze rested upon her. He wore a slight smile on his face.
Lyrani wondered how it might feel to be looked at like that—like she was the only thing King Nash saw. She'd never know.
He had seen Lyrani before, but she had made sure he would never see her again.
Trelle had definitely worked her magic on him. If only it could be enough to get him to open up about the massacres he had ordered before he died.
But Lyrani couldn't worry about that when she had her own job to do. Her mouth went dry at the thought of it.
She was ready. She knew the layout of the king's apartment. She had her weapon of choice. She knew how to sneak past the guards. There was no reason for her to be nervous.
The years really had taken away Lyrani's touch.
Assassinations used to be exhilarating. A thrill had raced through Lyrani's veins when it was just her alone in the darkness with only her heartbeat for company. When she had acted as the fatal hand of ECISI, it had been one of the few times she felt truly alive.
Thinking about the feeling couldn't bring it back. There was no changing the fact that Lyrani was scared—of being caught, of failing, of killing a man who didn't deserve to die.
But orders were orders. She knew what she was getting into when she accepted this mission.
Lyrani thought back to Morloy sitting in the kitchen on that dark night, telling her about the little fairy girl he couldn't save. She thought about the young orphans she had never met, the childless mothers and the lost lovers she didn't know. There was a way she could stop this, all this death and fear and devastation.
She had to kill King Nash.
Lyrani looked up at the glass ceiling. Between the bare tree branches and dancing reflections of the other elves in the room, she could just make out the starry night sky.
If she was unfortunate enough to be caught in the king's room, and this was to be her last night alive, she knew the darkness would welcome her with open arms.
It was the least it could do after all they had been through together. With that little comfort to give her strength, Lyrani turned to leave, but she walked into someone instead.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" cried Isarea.
Her short, dark hair was pinned up. A row of small golden studs curved along her ears, stopping just short of the points. Her orange floor-length dress flared out subtly, flickering like fire. It was fortunate that the garment only mimicked the flames, or Lyrani would've been scorched for sure.
"That's all right." Lyrani forced a smile, hoping the sick feeling in her stomach didn't show on her face. "I'm getting a drink. I'll see you later."
"See you," said Isarea.
Lyrani held her breath, expecting Isarea to ask a question, like why she was so tense or why she seemed so preoccupied.
Her nerves frayed with every moment she delayed her inevitable task. All she wanted was for it to be over.
Luckily, Isarea had no interest in making conversation. She raised her glass to her lips casually, but her eyes gave her away, following after Trelle as she crossed the ballroom.
Lyrani squeezed her shoulder. "Remember what I said yesterday."
"She's going to be with Nash all night." Isarea sighed. "How am I supposed to find an opening to say hello to her?"
"Make one."
Lyrani's advice brought a faint smile to Isarea's face. She downed the rest of her drink and squared her shoulders as Lyrani left her company, exiting into the cool embrace of the night and starting up the staircase.
Never before had any type of shoes caused the soles of Lyrani's feet to sting as if she was walking on thorns. Then again, she had never taken a million stairs wearing the highest heels she owned.
She winced with every step.
Lyrani had contemplated taking her shoes off at least three times since she started walking, but they were non-negotiable at functions as big and glamorous as these. Being caught barefoot would raise suspicion, which Lyrani was trying to avoid.
She gritted her teeth and continued her ascent, gripping the banisters for support.
If she bumped into anyone, she planned to pretend that she was too drunk to know where she was going. It was an act she had performed so many times that she had become expert at it, down to the slurring speech, tottering gait and inappropriate anecdotes.
No one would suspect anything else, let alone that Lyrani was an assassin posing as a maid, let alone that she had her sights set on King Nash.
As Lyrani neared the topmost landing in the palace, the one surrounded by the royal apartments, her breaths came quicker, and her heart beat louder.
She was really doing this.
She was the third secret agent in the last year to attempt this mission. The others had trained and planned as she had, but they hadn't prevailed. What did that say about Lyrani's odds?
What if she succeeded? What if she didn't?
Failure wasn't an option.
Lyrani turned her mind outwards to the guards on duty. They paced as their colleagues had the previous night.
Lyrani looked down at herself.
She couldn't run as quickly in this ballgown as she could in her maid's dress. A mistimed movement would expose her instantly. Her heels would click against the glass landing, an instant giveaway where her boots would have been silent.
Using the shadows as camouflage wasn't going to get Lyrani past the guards. She needed to create a diversion that would give her more time to get into the king's apartment unnoticed.
Lyrani raised her hands, waiting for the guards to reach the point of their rounds where the creepy, dark apartment was in sight of them both. When they did, she flicked her fingers outwards, and the shadows across the path leading to the unsettling apartment pulsed towards the landing.
As soon as the guards let out exclamations that told Lyrani they had noticed her decoy, she lowered her hands.
"You should go and see what that was," said one guard to the other, his deep voice trembling.
He wasn't as tough as he was trying to be.
"No, you should!" His partner's squeaky voice rose in pitch as he protested. "I'm not going anywhere near that place!"
That was a fair point. Whatever had made that apartment their own wasn't to be messed with.
All the same, the guards' stance didn't suit Lyrani. She raised her hands once again, pushing outwards with her palms, and the darkness followed her direction.
The squeaky guard gulped.
His knees trembling, the tough guard took a step in the direction of the disturbance. "Well, this is part of our job. How about we investigate it together?"
From where she stood in the shadows, Lyrani smiled. She had been hoping he'd say that.
"Fine. You go first." The squeaky guard stayed behind the tough one, eyeing the dark apartment warily.
The tough guard rolled his eyes but led the way. As soon as the men disappeared down the dark walkway leading away from the landing, Lyrani dashed into King Nash's apartment.
It was exactly as it had been the previous night, but the decanters on the table had been rearranged and the black comforter was crumpled, probably Trelle's work. Lyrani didn't get to dwell on the unwelcome thought for too long before the ceiling snatched her attention.
She looked up to see the stars twinkling against the dark sky. Unlike the flat, dark blue of the room walls, the view had all the depth of the enchanting reality.
Lyrani hadn't noticed the glass ceiling the previous evening, but now, it took her breath away, turning her speechless with wonder. Even though the sky's transitions through the night would be too gradual to notice, the heavens were so mesmerising that Lyrani could watch it until sunrise.
If this was the last thing she'd see before her actions earned her a death sentence, she'd die a happy woman, lost among the stars.
The little glass vial Lyrani had smuggled from Irylen was cold against her thigh, reminding her of what she came to do.
She searched among the crystal decanters for the blue teardrop-shaped bottle she had told Trelle to look out for. Her partner was to pour the king a drink from that bottle when she came up to his room that night and distract him so that he wouldn't look too closely at it. Catching sight of it, Lyrani covered her hand in her ample skirt and grabbed the decanter.
She unstrapped the vial from her leg in one smooth movement and held it up to her eyes.
There was just enough brew of belladonna inside to kill an elf without anyone suspecting foul play.
That was one of an assassin's most important rules.
Never kill a target in a way that would raise suspicion. An investigation increased the chances of being caught, and that was something a good assassin knew better than to risk.
Lyrani uncorked the vial, then tilted it at the mouth of the blue crystal decanter. The purple poison stretched its inky tendrils out into the clear, amber liquid. Lyrani swirled the bottle, watching the poison disappear, disguising itself inside the alcohol.
The hardest part was over.
Lyrani had gotten in. She had done what she came to do. All that was left was to escape without being seen.
She set the decanter back on the table with a clink, double checking that she hadn't left any fingerprints and taking care to place the bottle exactly as she had found it in case King Nash paid attention to such little details. Lyrani was strapping the vial to her thigh when she heard the sound.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
She froze.
Footsteps. Right outside the door.
Lyrani mouthed the most violent curse she knew.
This wasn't supposed to be happening. Something had gone wrong.
Trelle was supposed to keep King Nash occupied long enough for Lyrani to plant the poison and get out of his room.
Perhaps it wasn't him. Perhaps it was a servant come to do a chore, and they'd be gone in a few moments, leaving Lyrani free to escape.
The door swung open with an ominous creak. Lyrani hurried to the darkest corner of the room. She pulled the shadows around her, but the more desperate she became, the more they slipped out of her grasp. It was like trying to hold water.
Please, not now! Lyrani begged, but the elusive darkness paid her no heed.
Her heart raced, drawing from the terror building within her. Her shadows had abandoned her.
Lyrani squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to render herself invisible. There was nothing more she could do.
The wall she flattened herself against was almost as dark as her dress.
Part of Lyrani resigned herself to execution.
The other part hoped that she would blend into the wall somehow and escape the attention of the surprise visitor despite the cursed stardust sprinkled over her dress.