Cassie should have considered the blood.
The spy crumpled to the stone floor without a sound, sliding off her dagger with a wet plop! But the burst of blood from their stomach splattered the front of her gown.
"Fuck," she murmured under her breath. She wiped the blade along the corpse's clothes before sliding it into the hidden sheath inside her corset. She examined the face as well as she could in the dim torchlight. Elvish, but that she had guessed from the lithe body. No vallaslin marred the clear, young face. A girl, no older than fifteen. Her eyes were wide open with surprise.
Cassie searched the body but found only an unmarked dagger and a small flask of green liquid. She smelt the flask- poison. There was no time to linger, however, and Cassie had to hide the body and cover the blood on her gown. She tossed the body over her shoulder, and began the trek to her personal chambers.
She had stumbled upon the secret passageways a few hours after arriving at the Winter Palace. Her informants had told her that there were hidden passages throughout the palace, but had been unable to get a map. In her room of resplendent mauve and silver, Cassie found a switch hidden behind a tapestries depicting two women pleasuring themselves by a rosebush (which she quite liked). That led to a staircase, which led to a circular room with over twenty doors. Cassie had been careful, tearing scraps from her headscarf and tying them to the torches to mark her path.
She hadn't meant to find the spy, who was carefully climbing through one of the windows, dangerously high from the ground. She watched from behind the corner as a rope fell down, and the spy shimmied to the floor. She watch the spy draw her blade, examining it in the dim light. The spy turned around and caught sight of her. Cassie straightened up and feigned surprise- it wasn't the first time she had stumbled on a would-be assassin. But this time, the assassin came for her. That was when Cassie struck.
After a few minutes of painfully slow back-tracking, Cassie managed to find her room again. She dropped the body onto the floor, gasping for breath.
"Cassie," she heard Fila from behind the silk screen. "I was wondering if we should try the- oh!" The dwarf gasped as she came round the corner, almost dropping her glass of wine.
"Yeah, I met a friend while doing some exploring." Cassie grunted, dropping the body. "She's a little worse for wear."
"I can see that," Fila said dryly. She sighed and set down her glass, rolling up the sleeves of her deep green dress shirt. "Where are we putting that thing?
The closet was a bit too obvious for a body, and if they pushed it under the bed, the stink would linger and she would be forced to smell it for the next few days. Fila suggested the window seat, which lifted to reveal a cabinet of sorts. With some difficulty, they managed to stuff the body into it, trying not to look into the corpse's eyes.
Satisfied, she turned to the dress, considering her reflection in a huge, gilded mirror. The goldenrod fabric did nothing to disguise the blood splatters.
"Should you keep them?" Fila asked. Bloodstains were no stranger to the Orlesian court and a few years ago, it was quite fashionable to display the fruits of your killings. But this was not the type of event to show off murder, and the spy would need to be investigated.
An idea struck Cassie, and she quickly grabbed Fila's wine glass.
"Hey!" Fila said, disgruntled. Cassie ignored her and, taking one long sip, she dipped her dagger into it and began splattering the rest of the dress. After five minutes of thorough staining, she now looked rather avant-garde, like a slice of sunshine speckled with rosebuds.
She was fixing her makeup when the servant came to fetch her.
Cassie smoothed her dress, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach. How many times had she entered this ballroom, yet she still felt nervous.
"Cassandra Beatrix Trevelyan-Rutherford. Imperatrix of the Inquisition. The Young Lioness!"
Cassie took a confident step forward as all eyes turned to her. Her hair was just right, her dress was just right. The neckline dipped just low enough to give ample view of her supple breasts. She tripped over the hem of her dress- no, she kicked it out from under her. She walked with deadly grace, and the room respected her for it. It was just another kind of battle, she knew. The kind of battle fought with bejeweled masks and champagne glasses.
The Winter Palace had never looked so beautiful. Silver banners cascaded over the shimmering dance floor, now a muddy pool of ballgowns and dancing couples. The candle light set everything to glisten like jewels- even the ugliest of masks were lovely in the light. Celene's Silver Jubilee had been celebrated across the land with festivals and parades, but nothing would compare to the ball in the heart of Orlais.
Antivan wine flowed endlessly from enchanted fountains. Tables heavy with food lined the walls: spit roasted rabbits, drizzled in honey. A salad from Seheron with goat cheese and dressing the color of dragonfire. Lemon cakes speckled with poppy seeds. Attracting the most of the crowd, though, was the Tortured Peacock- a bird, blinded, and force fed pounds of sweet dates, kept in a cauldron of rum for three days, then boiled alive.
Cassie walked through the ballroom confidently, keeping her eyes unfocused, but alert. She stopped at the top of the staircase, looking down on the dancing couples. A cool hand rested on her shoulder. She turned to look.
"Rosamund." She leaned in to embrace her friend. "You look ravishing."
The Duchess smiled coyly. "Cassandra, your admiration is it's own reward." She looked Cassie up and down. "Your dress is exquis- like a battlefield in summer!"
"Yes, that was the idea." Cassie said tightly. Rosamund nodded in understanding and waved over a servant, who gave them each goblets filled with champagne. Rosamund did look ravishing. Her dress was in cool lavender and fitted tight across her curves. Her skin was a deep, earthy brown, shining like polished mahogany.
"How was your journey to the Palace?" Rosamund asked her.
"Quiet." Cassie said. "The road from Val Royeaux to Halamshiral is quite clear this time of year." That was a lie- Cassie had to cut down at least three different bandit gangs that were foolish enough to attack the Inquisitor's daughter.
"So I've been told." Rosamund sipped her champagne and stroked Cassie's cheek. No doubt she was disappointed in Cassie's bareface. Rosamund's own mask was inlaid with sapphires in the shape of tears, dripping from her ebony black eyes. Cassie had learned not to trust the masks. They hurt just as much as they helped in the Game. Cassie always went without a mask- it lulled people into trusting her, into believing she was naive. At least, it did when she was younger. Now, Orlais knew who the Young Lioness really was.
Cassie leaned into Rosamund and kissed her cheek. The nobles around them began furiously whispering, giving her enough time to whisper, "I found a spy. Meet in my rooms after."
Rosamund returned the kiss and said, "Cassandra, my dear, you'll have to excuse me. The Dowager Princess is glaring at me and I must see what she desires." Her skirts flew about her as she elegantly turned away. Cassie smiled and turned her gaze back to the dance floor.
Dancing with Princess Celenia, Prince Maric of Ferelden looked positively overwhelmed. What little of his face she could see from under his bright red mask was flushed from trying to keep up with the lively waltz. When the song ended, and he was able to catch his breath, he looked up at Cassie, and gave her a quick nod. She quickly looked away- which caused the nobles to begin whispering once again.
Officially, Cassie and Maric were over. But that was a load of horse shit. Every year or so, Cassie planned a huge public fight to make the masses believe their relationship was done. They would publicly reconcile in a few months, but for now, Maric had to sneak into Cassie's chambers (literally and figuratively). These breaks kept the marriage pressure in check- although, Maric still proposed every chance he could. What once was a romantic inside joke had become a serious proposition, now that she was 28, and the responsibilities of her position threatened to drown her.
Cassie downed her drink, trying to shake off her thoughts. If someone hired that spy, there might still be blood drawn tonight, and she had to be alert.
"Lord Cullen Stanton Trevelyan-Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition's forces. Inquisitor Evelyn Mafalda Trevelyan-Rutherford of Skyhold! Leader of the Inquisition, and savior of Thedas!"
Like the rest of the room, Cassie turned to watch her parents enter. Besides her, they were the only ones barefaced. Her mother was dressed in a deep midnight colored gown with simple golden epaulettes and embroidery along the hem. Evelyn's hair was pulled back, with soft tendrils framing her face. Her father wore his traditional red and gold formal suit he had worn to every formal event for the past thirty- no one would take offense to this fashion faux pas, since half of Orlais still wanted to sleep with him.
The masses ooed and awed at the couple for a few moments, and as they dispersed, Cassie managed to slip in beside her mother.
"We got your message," Father said, touching her arm. "Are you alright?" Cassie reached out and gripped her father's forearm tightly, trying to stop him.
"Father," she said. "Mother. It's wonderful to see you again."
Her mother nodded, and said stiffly, "You look well, Cassie." A duchess nearby giggled and whispered to her husband quickly. Cassie stifled a sigh. She loved her parents endlessly, but they were helpless in the Orlesian court.
"Come," she motioned them towards the other end of the hall. "We should pay our respects to the Empress."
As they walked along the dance floor, the trio caught every eye in the house, but no one stopped to speak to them. The Herald of Andraste, though well loved, was known to be a useless player of the Game, her husband even worse than her.
Surrounded by her courtiers, Empress Celene looked drowned in silk and velvet gowns. Her own violet gown with silver stars looked heavy enough to crush her. The Empress turned towards them and smiled brilliantly. Her mask, the polished silver visage of a lioness, expertly hid the wrinkles that powder could not cover.
"Inquisitor." Celene said in a soft voice. "I am honored that you have come."
"The honor is mine, Your Radiance." Mother took the Empress' hand and gave her a swift kiss.
"I am glad to see you and your husband looking so well."
"You're beauty is still, uhm, radiant. Your Imperial Majesty." Father stumbled along his words and quickly went into a boy. Celene smiled modestly. Her beauty wasn't radiant, as she well knew, but the flattery certainly meant something.
"I do hope that your stay at Halamshiral is more peaceful than your last few visits," Celene said, her hands pressed together at her waist.
Mother laughed. "The Winter Palace without an assassination plot just doesn't feel quite the same." A bit macabre of a joke, but Celene was gracious and laughed as well.
"I do hope we can still entertain, Lady Inquisitor." Celene turned her gaze to Cassie. "My dear Cassandra, will you be staying on with us once the celebrations are done?"
"Would that I could, Your Radiance," Cassie said, curtsying. "As it happens, business in Val Royeaux has forced me to make this visit brief."
"A pity. Your presence always does make the Winter Palace a bit brighter."
"Inquisitor," Prince Reynaurd came up beside the Empress. "How lovely to see you again. Commander. Cassie…" Behind his golden mask, his green eyes were coy. "You are the second loveliest thing in the room."
"Only the second?" Cassie asked, feigning wounded pride.
"Second, to my glorious aunt." He smiled at Celene.
"Reynaurd, please." The Empress giggled and rested a hand on his shoulder.
Reynaurd had been born to Grand Duke Gaspard a few years after the defeat of Corypheus, and was almost immediately fostered by Celene in Halamshiral. After Gaspard's death, Reynaurd was declared Celene's heir. Cassie thought it a fair choice- Reynaurd had no ambitions past who he would take to bed that night. And by the looks of it, he hoped it would be Cassie.
One of Celene's handmaidens leaned in and whispered into her ear. "Please, if you could excuse me." The trio bowed once more as the Empress glided away.
"How have you found your stay at the Winter Palace so far, my lady?" Reynaurd asked.
"The usual, Your Imperial Highness," Cassie said.
"Perhaps we could find something new for you to experience." Reynaurd stroked her cheek, allowing his fingers to run down her neck. Cassie smiled, trying to distract him from her father's barely contained fury.
"Perhaps we can. If you could excuse us- Your Imperial Highness." She bowed to him and guided her parents away. "Father," she said in low tones. "You could try to hide your fury a little better."
"He had his hands on you, Cassie!" He whispered angrily.
"He is also going to be Emperor soon, so it's best not to antagonize him." She sighed. "I think we can slip away- meet in my room later. I've already told the others."
"Will you be alright?" Mother asked, her eyes wide with concern. Cassie held her hand, squeezing it gently.
"There's no one who could hurt me, Mother."
"And there was nothing you could find on the body?" Father asked. In a plain shirt and trousers, he was looking far more comfortable than in the ballroom. Mother too, dressed in a shapeless brown dress. They had changed while Cassie, Fila, and Maric stripped the body, wrapped it in plain cloth, and tossed it into the river. Rosamond and Maric were sitting at the table, sipping their wine and watching Cassie. Fila napped on Cassie's huge bed, tired out from their riverside excursion.
"Only this." Cassie threw the dagger into the huge oaken table. It stuck in the wood, gleaming in the candle light. "And this." She held up the green vial. Mother took it from her, popped open the cap with her thumb, and gingerly smelled it.
"Adder's Kiss." She said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
"Could it have been an attack against Celene?" Maric asked.
Rosamund shook her head. "Motive, darling. Who gains from an unclaimed assassination?"
"Reynaurd." Maric countered.
"Yes, but why no mark on the blade?" Cassie asked. "Why not claim the murder for himself? Or blame it on another house, have a target to move the nation against? Anyway, Reynaurd isn't clever enough to plan this."
"The De Montforts?" Rosamund suggested. "They've been brewing since Reynaurd was declared heir. Perhaps-"
"She saw me." Cassie muttered. "She looked me in the eyes and knew who I was."
"Yes?" Mother said.
"Well, don't you see? Any Orlesian bard would flee from me, they'd know not to fight someone who wasn't their target. This one came saw me and tried to kill me."
"You mean she was sent for you?" Father asked.
"Maybe." Cassie sighed and poured herself another glass of wine. Maric shifted through the spy's clothing again. "Maybe it's nothing. But I have a bad feeling about this."
"Alright," He said, peering into her pockets. "She had nothing but the dagger and the poison on her…"
"You're all missing the big picture." Mother said, setting the vial down. Everyone looked at her, waiting. "She's elven."
"Elven servants have been rare for the past twenty or so years," Rosamund said. "Briala has kept them from striking against Celene, but even her people have been dwindling."
"She didn't have vallaslin." Cassie said. "So a city elf?"
"Perhaps not." Father murmured, sharing a glance with Mother. Their eyes were sharp with worry, but they said nothing.
"Look!" Maric said, examining her boot. From between the sole and the leather, he plucked the remains of a jagged leaf.
"A piece of plant?" Rosamund asked sardonically. Father reached over and examined the leaf.
"Rashvine nettle," He said. "Very rare. Found only in-"
"The Dales." Mother finished. "The Exalted Plains? We know elves still travel through there."
"Perhaps." Father said.
"We'll need to send a team in to investigate." Mother said. "Perhaps I can get Harding to gather some troops, get Rylen to-"
"No," Cassie said. "I'll go alone."
Rosamund laughed. "A few of Leliana's scouts could do the trick."
"Can we trust them?" Cassie asked. No one answered. "That's what I thought."
"Cassie, it's too dangerous," Father said. "If there is someone trying to kill you-"
"Then a group could bring attention and scare them off." Cassie countered. "I'll be able to slip in unnoticed and search the area."
"I'll go with you," Maric quickly suggested. Cassie rolled her eyes. She loved him, but he had his father's penchant for dumb bravery.
"No." Cassie said flatly. "The heir of Ferelden trouncing through dangerous Elven territory? Not likely."
"Then I could do." Father said. "To help."
"No, I-"
"I think Cassie can handle it herself." Mother cut in firmly. Cassie sighed in relief. Her mother hardly ever forced her will on her own organization, but when she did, there was no challenging her.
"I'll be safe." She assured the table. She watched her mother pluck the leaf from her father's hand and twirl it between her fingers. Her face was unreadable, but behind her eyes, there was a glimmer of sadness. "Mother?"
The Inquisitor looked at her daughter carefully, before whispering, "Be careful."