Juleka examined her reflection carefully, holding her mirror as still as was possible in the back of a moving carriage. Her disguise was meticulously arranged. Her hair was pinned up to keep it out of her eyes, and her lavender gown fell in poofy ruffles to her ankles. She was glad for the current fashion trend among the nobility of loose-fitting clothing. It was far easier for her to conceal her knives under a dress like this one. She pulled her skirt up carefully, checking once again that her knife was still there. Long and silver, it glimmered menacingly against the pale skin of her inner thigh.

Satisfied that the blade was still in place, she went back to studying the map of the palace. Her task would not be an easy one to carry out. Princesses were difficult to kill, especially at wedding parties. She pulled the curtains of her carriage back and watched the outlying villages roll by. Even here, people were out in the streets, braving the chilly autumn weather to celebrate the wedding of Princess Marinette and Prince Adrien. The two weren't much older than Juleka herself at nineteen, but according to the rumors, anyone could tell it was meant to be. She was glad they weren't her targets. They, at least, deserved to live out long and happy lives.

So did the girl she had been ordered to kill, probably. But there was nothing she could do to help her- Princess Rose, whoever that was. Juleka shivered and pulled the curtains closed, goosebumps popping up on her exposed arms.

"How long until we reach the wedding reception?" Juleka called up to the coach driver.

"Not long now, Miss." She leaned back on the coach's velvet cushions with a sigh, and went back to idly studying her map of the palace.