Disclaimer: Everything is the property of
one T. Pierce. I make no profit off of this
piece of fantasy fiction.
Assassin
a 'what if' story by B3B3 Lik You
If Alanna were never a knight, never a lady, never a mage; but an assassin. An assassin sentenced to kill someone she might actually care for and made to blindly obey someone she might actually despise. My 'what if' story. If this idea has already been played with before, I apologize because I wasn't aware.
'They call me assassin'
Jack Tatum
Lord Henrim of Tirrsmont could not get his eyes off of her. The way she moved. The way she spoke. The way she curtsied. She was far from being the most slender or classically beautiful woman in the room, yet she had something special about her that no one else had. All the male nobility in the room knew it and their eyes kept darting to her and back when they felt the disapproving glares of their wives. Her with her unruly black hair and grey eyes. And, here she was, coming over to him right now.
"My Lord," she curtsied before pouring more wine into his goblet. It all seemed a normal servingmaid-master transaction to all the guests present at the fief Tirrsmont. However, for Lord Henrim, it was quite the opposite. For a brief interlude, they caught each other's eyes and he felt the raw passion in her's. So much so, in fact, that for a second her eyes seemed to shine violet.
"Thank you, Flora. You may be dismissed for the evening," he replied, watching her stand and leave the dining room with a peculiar intensity. Luckily for him, no one noticed. It would not do to have it found that he was carrying on an extra-maritial affair with, of all people, a servingmaid!
Lord Henrim tried, valiantly, to turn his attention back to the discussion at hand, but found that all his thoughts were consumed by Flora, his servingmaid. It seemed like just yesterday that she'd shown up on his doorstep, begging for a job in return for food and shelter. He'd hired her out of the kindness of his heart and pegged her, immediately, as another foolish commoner girl. Yet the more he knew her, the more he realized just how wrong he was. There was so much about her he didn't understand and every night before he went to bed, he pondered these things over and over again till he went half-mad. Love made even the wisest of men jump all over themselves for answers, it seemed.
"Sweetheart, the Duke of Masbolle just asked you a question," Lady Usina of Tirrsmont, Henrim's wife, spoke gently, awaking him from his stupor.
"Huh?" he blinked and blushed, feeling the eyes of the powerful from the Tortallan court rest on him. It was the one chance he had to raise his social standing and bring more attention to fief Tirrsmont and he was ruining it.
Lady Usina laughed, quietly, trying to shake off the awkwardness of the moment, "I don't know where his head is these days. What with worries about the Queen's health and all, I worry for his health too."
A polite round of chuckles resounded at this and Lord Henrim smiled, mechanically, "My dear, I do believe I'm feeling under the weather. Really, if I may be excused?"
Usina gave him a look that plainly said, 'No, you cannot be excused,' but he ignored it since she didn't dare to voice it and got up from the table, bidding their visitors farewell and goodnight. Ushering himself out of the dining room, he felt his blood level rise. Now with Usina kept away by their guests, he could have at least one hour alone with Flora. If only he could find her...
He began ascending the steps to the upper floor of Tirrsmont manor, two-no-three steps at a time. Once upon the landing, he saw her, back to him, half-bent over a broom, sweeping the floor, elegantly. Glancing around, he noticed to his glee that no one was there but them. He tip-toed over to her and began planting kisses all along her neck and shoulder. The over-sized maid's uniform sagged to reveal pale, unmarred, skin that was just as perfect and spotless as the day she'd been born.
She dropped her broom in surprise at the sudden onslaught of kisses and cried out, softly, "Oh Henrim! Not in the hall!"
Henrim responded by grabbing her wrist and spinning her around and colliding his lips with her's. He heard a tiny gasp and grinned. That was part of Flora's strange appeal, the fact that she was so fragile. He moved away from her finally and half-dragged her to his bedroom down the hall. He pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. It revealed a lavishly decorated room that was almost entirely wooden (The fief of Tirrsmont was known for its lumber).
Lord Henrim kicked the door shut behind him, eyeing Flora's dishevelled clothes, hungrily. Her dark hair had fallen out of its bun and was trailing in strangly strands across her slim collar bone. He came closer and pushed his entire body against her till all that he could hear was her heartbeat and her raspy breath. But it wasn't enough for him to be on the outside, listening in. He wanted to be inside her.
He flung her wiry frame onto his bed, realizing that she looked a little bit frightened. He resisted the urge to grin, knowing that she was still probably a virgin because for all their playing, he had never actually had her. Henrim clambored onto the bed and pinned her down with his knees. He went to his belt buckle, undoing it.
"Henrim, let's wait. This is going too fast...," she protested, weakly, trying to get up.
He pushed her down, holding her wrists, steadfastly, "I'm tired of waiting."
Flora rolled her eyes, sitting up with a sudden strength. Henrim rolled onto the bed and almost onto the floor. He sat up, bewildered. Just a second ago it seemed that he had pinned down, forcefully, but she pushed him off her almost instantaneously a moment later. He watched her smile, slyly, and come closer to him.
"You won't have to wait much longer, I promise," she whispered in a voice that made the hairs on his arm stand up, "I just want proof that you love me more than you love her."
He sighed, as she kissed him shortly, "You know I love you more than I could ever love Usina. What proof more do you need than my own words?"
"Words whispered behind closed doors are nothing," Flora retorted, her voice holding a sudden venom, her sweetness gone, "I want a token of yours."
Henrim frowned. What did she mean by a token? He glanced around his half-naked body as if searching for something to give her, "Like what?"
Flora seemed to be thinking, "Oh, I don't know. How about...one of those keys of yours? To put around my neck?"
She was pointing to the ring of keys that were just peeking out of his pocket. Henrim looked at them, nervously. Some of those keys led to important places, not that Flora would know any of them, of course. But still. Handing out keys to your servingmaid was not a practice most noble men followed. Then again, he didn't feel he could hold himself back from her haunting flesh. If all she wanted was a key, why not?
"Fine," he agreed, snatching his key ring and pulling one of the smaller (and less important ones off), "Here you are."
She did not look pleased, "This is how much you love me? Just enough to give me a tiny bronzed key?"
Flora pouted and Henrim reconsidered whether or not this was really a good idea. However, a second glance at the servingmaid's now visible cleavage made him all hers. "Alright, alright. You choose which one you want."
He gave her the key ring and she sorted through the keys awfully fast. Almost as if she knew exactly which one she was looking for. Finally, after a few minutes, she chose a silver key with the design of a turquoise emblazoned on it. Henrim watched, nervously, as she tied it to a red string around her neck. That was probably the most important key in his collection. He tried to reassure himself by remembering that she had no clue where it led. However, he was still unsettled.
"How does it look?" she asked, her voice flirty.
"Beautiful," he nodded, "Just don't lose it."
"Oh, I won't," Flora smiled, strangely, "Now that you've proved your love, let's have some real fun."
She leaped on him, holding down his arms. He grinned, this was what he had been waiting for all night. He moaned, softly, as she kissed his neck. If only the night could go on like this forever...
Flora sat on top of him, straddling his hips, "You look so very handsome."
He nodded, dazed by how lovely she looked. Mithros, she was intoxicating.
"Too bad I have to kill you," she added as an afterthought.
Before he could even fully register what she'd said in his brain, she pulled out a dagger from her loose-fitted uniform and stabbed him swiftly in the chest. Henrim gasped, feeling his life's blood course out and onto his bed. Flora was still sitting on him, pulling out the dagger, painfully slow. He wanted to scream, but his voice was dead. His servingmaid; his love was actually taking pleasure in agonizing him. He looked at her, the shock still evident in his eyes. He watched her take her dagger and wipe his blood off as if it were naught but dirt.
"You cheating prig. Thought you were good enough for two women, did you?" Flora demanded, viciously, "I've picked better scum off the bottom of my shoe."
She leaned down and gave him a swift kiss on his cold lips before getting off him. She heard him give one last moan before he coughed up blood and died. Flora glanced over her shoulder, hardly phased before straightening her maid's gown. Once that was done, she headed over to a painting of the happy Tirrsmont couple and took it off the wall. Behind it sat a solid gold safe. This one didn't require a combination but a key. The same exact key that she now had tied around her neck. Rubbing some blood off it, she pushed it into the slot and turned. The safe door sprang open, revealing crackly, yellowing parchments. She unrolled them and saw that they were indeed maps. Another messy job accomplished, cleanly.
From down below, the servingmaid heard the scratches of chairs across a floor and knew that the dinner party was drawing to a close. Lady Usina would be up soon to find a rather unpleasant surprise for herself.
'Flora' smiled, "One day she'll thank me for ridding her of that two-timing idiot."
She went to the balcony of Henrim's bedroom and jumped off, landing catlike on the ground. She whipped off her maid's uniform and shoved it into a tree, it would be a few days before anyone would find it. Pocketing the precious scrolls in her breeches, she started off at a run. She needed to be back in Corus in two days time for her next assignment.
Slinking away, just as the first screams from Lady Usina reached her ears, the young assassin blended into the night.
Fresh out of fief Tirrsmont, a hooded figure crossed the streets of lower Corus. Here lived the poorest people in the city, passing their days in a hidden poverty that King Roald never realized. The hooded figure glanced at a tiny boy playing with two sticks, pretending them to be a Knight and a damsel in distress. Her face was shadowed by the hood, however her expression was dour. After a second look at the commoner boy, she turned and ducked into the building beside her. At first glance, it seemed like a broken-down warehouse. When you entered, you often thought the same. However, the hooded one knew otherwise.
She entered the warehouse, closing the rusting door behind her. All the walls and windows were boarded up. She went to the back wall and pulled on what looked like a loose piece of wood. Instantly a gap in the walls opened up, revealing stairways to an underground tunnel. She looked down through it, apprehensively. She didn't very much like the feeling of being under ground. Swallowing her nerves, she entered, feeling the passage close behind her.
She walked forward, coming across intricate twists and turns, knowing instinctively where to go. She'd been down here so many times, it was like a second home. Finally, she came to a wooden door, decorated in an ancient text that she could not decifer. No one could read them but her Master, himself. As was the drill, she knocked on this door three times.
Promptly a slot slid open and she saw two amber eyes look back at her, "You are...?"
"The Lioness," she replied, firmly, as she should. Every single assassin working for the Regofoc Treno League had a name gifted to them from the time they were intitated. She had had the honor of being hand-picked and named by the Master himself.
"Real name?" the eyes demanded, apparently checking his list.
"Alanna of the Forest," the hooded one answered. An assassin's real name was one that could not be stolen from them. No one but the assassin's league and herself actually knew her name. It was the most sacred thing to an assassin, to keep your name.
The eyes seemed pleased and closed the slot and opened the door. The amber eyes in question belonged to one, Yester Roberts, a short, balding, man that had worked for Regofoc Treno for as long as could be remembered. He bowed to Alanna as she entered Headquarters, which was swarming with assassins, old and new, resting inbetween assignments.
"Welcome back," Yester said, bobbing his head in respect, "I take it that you got the maps?"
Alanna pulled them out of her pocket, made to hand them to him, then recoiled them just as he stretched out his hands, "Actually, I'd like to see Alex. He said he'd be here today with my new assignment."
Yester frowned, "Yes I do believe that noble is here today."
He began waddling to a chamber down a hallway. Alanna followed, throwing back her hood. Where there had been black hair naught but two days ago, now lay bright red hair. She'd dyed it back to its original colour just a few hours ago. Even her eyes were back to their natural shade of violet after the Master's concealing potion had worn off.
Yester paused in front of a door, then nodded for Alanna to enter. She swiftly followed suit and firstly saw Alexander of Tirragen, a famed member of the Regofoc Treno, seated at a table with his feet up. His high cheek bones and usually protubrent green eyes were shadowed by his glasses. Though none could deny he was handsome in his own vain way, Alanna had never warmed to him. His boot heels clicked, unnervingly. However, Alanna did not let him intimidate her. Instead, she merely crossed the room and sat straight across from him, professional as ever.
Alex put his feet down and smirked at her, "Lady Alanna, what a pleasure."
"Please, let's hold back on the superficial compliments," the assassin smiled, shrewdly, "We both know I'm as much a lady as you are a gentleman."
He arched an eyebrow, rather amused, "Have you the scrolls?"
Alanna laid them out on the table for him to study. She couldn't help but glance at them, herself. They seemed to be a map to the Roof of the World. How had Lord Henrim come across it? When Alex looked up at her, sharply, she darted her eyes to her fingernails, making to inspect them.
"All's in order," Alex nodded, finally, rolling up the parchments, "Are you ready for your next assignment?"
"Yes and tell me it isn't another seduce-the-Lord-of-the-house-stunt?" she scowled, "I'm tired of those."
The young knight grinned at her obvious displeasure, "No. You have proved to be our most skilled assassin yet and the Master believes you worthy of a more difficult task. In fact, it is the most difficult task he has ever given."
"Oh?" Alanna arched an eyebrow, rather interested, "What is this difficult task that you speak of?"
Alex reached into his coat, pulling out a small, framed, portrait. He slid it across the table, until it was right under Alanna's nose. It was a masterfully painted picture of a young man with black hair and blue eyes. In it, he was depicted riding a tawny stallion, looking for the whole world a handsome youth. The Lioness tried to bite back her guilt. He would be her youngest victim yet, looking not very much older than she was. Worst of all, in the painting, he wore a lopsided crown on his head.
"The Prince?" Alanna blinked, "You want me to kill the Prince?"
"Not me," Alex corrected her, "The Master."
Alanna looked up at him, curiously, catching his eye, "Who is the Master anyways?"
That question was probably one of the ones she had asked herself the most during her six years with the Regofoc Treno. Who was the Master? Most of the League had never had the honor of meeting him, although, from what they were told, he was a great figure in Tortall. Alanna had, in fact, the honor of meeting the Master, just once in her youth. But she barely remembered him as anything but a fuzzy figure saving her from a wolf attack in a forest. Even then, as he'd lifted her limp body in his arms, she'd known that this was a man of power. This was a man to be respected.
"If it's not relevant to the assignment, you don't need to know," Alex waved her question away, tactfully.
Alanna frowned, looking back down at the picture, "He's very young..."
"Nineteen, not that young," the Tirragen responded, watching her carefully, "Don't tell me the infamous Lioness is afraid?"
Alanna snorted, "You wish. I'm just saying, but I suppose it doesn't matter. If the Master wants him dead, he'll be dead."
"That's the spirit," Alex grinned, "Now, this is the story. You are to be no maid. Jonathan is rather smarter than most of your other victims, although it will not seem like it at first. To win his affections, you must be presented to him in good society. Therefore, you shall be posing as a court lady. My sister, actually."
"I'm not really into all that court decorum," Alanna wrinkled her nose, "Are you sure I can't just be a maid?"
"Your alias will be Lady Corrina of Tirragen," Alex continued, choosing to ignore her small input, "You're to get fitted for gowns this very day, and, if things roll smoothly, we'll have you up at the Palace by tomorrow afternoon. My Lady."
Alanna frowned, wrinkling her smooth skin.
Most assassins were usually giving a good few days rest after an assignment, but a select few, like Alanna, were always in high demand and therefore were always on the move. That afternoon, Alanna was introduced to her personal servingmaid, Valeria, an aging but famed assassin under the name of 'Viper'. The elder lady was extremely strict in her dealings and specialized in masquerading as a noble lady in her youth.
Or at least that was what Yester told her while he escorted out a back door of Regofoc headquarters. An elaborate carriage awaited her and Alanna hardly marveled at the array of gleaming horses or trained servingmen who were actually assassins. She winked at a friend of her's who opened the door.
"Good luck Lioness. The Viper will take over your briefing from here," Yester jutted his chin to the carriage.
Alanna didn't turn around, just lifted her hand above her head in farewell. She entered the carriage and settled down in front of an elegantly dressed woman. Her grey hair was combed into a swift bun and her pale blue eyes regarded Alanna with disdain. The wrinkly hand that had been adjusting her pearls fell to her lap, softly. The Lioness glanced at the Viper, slightly unnerved at the way her prim violet gown fell in perfect folds over her slender body.
For a long time, neither of them spoke.
"So," the Viper finally simpered, "This is what is at the height of our league these days."
"If you want to insult me, Lady Valeria, I suggest you do it outright. I hate riddles," Alanna replied, keeping her temper in check.
Valeria smiled, "You shall be an interesting project, my dear."
Alanna didn't reply. Instead she peeked out of the curtained windows. The day was a wet, cloudy one. In perhaps the most deepest crevices of her memory, she remembered a day just like this one. A very, very unhappy day that was. Yet Alanna could not remember why it had been such a dreadful time.
'Someone died that day,' she thought out of no where, 'I wonder who?'
"Golden hair, how do you feel about that, pet?" Lady Valeria suddenly asked, her lips twisting into a smirk.
Alanna felt her anger flare. She was exactly the type of person who despised golden hair, it garnered too much attention, and Lady Valeria knew that. But she wouldn't let the older woman relish in making her upset. So, her cheek bone twitching dangerously, she said, "Golden, huh? How pretty."
"I thought so myself. I hear Prince Jonathan quite enjoys golden hair," Valeria smiled, "He's very much a man of desire. He craves feminity and that is exactly what we'll give him, isn't it?"
"Yes," Alanna barely got out between clenched teeth. Already this-this Prince sounded like a complete prig.
"Now, D-I mean, the Master has specified that he would highly like your eyes to be green and, he wanted me to give you this," Lady Valeria pulled two small potions bottles from the folds of her skirts. One, Alanna knew, was for her eye color. The other, however, looked foreign.
"This is..?"
"Beauty potion," Lady Valeria answered, her eyes laughing at Alanna's indignation, "Don't be offended, high and mighty Lioness! You are not entirely unattractive, but Jonathan's tastes are rather refined, you see. This potion will not change your face, just tiny details. Soft skin, gleaming nails, silky hair, tiny waist."
Alanna felt herself unconsciously suck in her stomach and immediately berated herself for it. She was thin, but apparently Tortall's Prince needed thinner. "I see," was all she could muster with dignity.
Just then, the carriage came to a halt.
"Come, my dear. We're about to meet a good friend of mine," Valeria explained, stepping out of the carriage. Alanna followed suit, already successfully mimicking her swanlike descent for even the smallest details were crucial to an assignment. That was what made a good assassin.
The two women quickly swept into a small but quaint house with lacey throw pillows, porcelain dolls, and pink cozies everywhere. Alanna's hawk eyes took in her surroundings apprehensively.
"You must learn to get that animal look off your face whenever you visit some place new," Valeria scolded, her brows furrowed, "Learn to look, but learn to look and seem like you aren't looking."
Once the woman had turned around, Alanna scowled at her back. Already Valeria was bringing out the worst in her. Alanna shrugged off the criticism for the moment, storing it away for a time she might really need it. A frightened young maid came out of a closed door and curtsied. The Lioness noticed her shaking. Some people got like that when they realized you were an assassin.
"Mrs. Marie welcomes you," she piped up, "If you'll follow me..?"
Lady Valeria nodded, letting the timid girl lead them through the corridor and to an open door. The servingmaid curtsied them through the door. Valeria silently entered and Alanna gave the maid a kind smile on the way in. The maid only looked more scared when she did it and kept her head down, not meeting her eyes.
The room through the door was largely decorated with things that didn't match. Alanna had a feeling that more things in here were stolen than not. She saw two maids setting up a stone basin and instinctively put a protective hand to her hair. Ah! She forced herself to stop whimpering over something as useless as hair. She would've gone bald if that's what the Master wanted.
"Alanna, I'd like to introduce you to Mrs. Marie, my good friend and a beautician to some of the most powerful women in Tortall," Valeria gestured towards a woman who's entire head was swallowed up by the smoke coming out of her pipe, "Marie, this is Alanna, the Master's favourite of the week."
Alanna ignored Valeria's snub and bowed to Mrs. Marie. At that, her head came out of the billowing smoke. She was a woman of Valeria's age, but was obviously trying to hide it. Her hair had been coloured to an unnatural red and her skin lay stretched tight over her cheek bones.
"Don't tell me that's your curtsy, girl! They wouldn't take you for a lady of the Tortallan court for a second," Mrs. Marie critisized, then turned to Valeria, "I'm glad you brought her to me. Mithros sake! The way she is now, the Prince wouldn't give her a second look."
"I highly recommend not talking about me like I'm not there," Alanna snapped, going red.
Mrs. Marie looked at her, almost startled, "Watch your tongue! If I had been the Prince and you were my latest conquest, I would've left you to the Scanrans and rode off with Lady Delia! You say she's to be at the palace by tomorrow, Valeria?"
"I'm afraid so, yes," Valeria tutted, "The Master will not wait."
"Very well," Mrs. Marie sighed, "At least you can look the part of a noble lady. Julianne, Brenna, help our friend to the basin."
When the two quiet maids tried to 'help Alanna to the basin', she only had to glare at them for them to back off. She sat herself down at the basin, taking her bright hair out of its pony tail. Her neck tingled against the cold stone of the basin, but she did not complain. Shortly, Mrs. Marie was standing over her.
"Your eyebrows! They must be plucked!" Mrs. Marie cried, ordering Julianne to fetch her twizzers. Alanna didn't like the sound of 'plucking'. It sounded like something that should only be done to a chicken. Seconds later, Julianne was back with a small metal object. Mrs. Marie took it and bent over Alanna's forehead. An instant later she tugged out some of her eyebrow. It shocked the Lioness more than hurt her. When Mrs. Marie was done she suggested that since she was already on body hair, she might as well wax Alanna's legs, arms, armpits and pretty much any other part of her body she could get at.
She bit her lip to keep from protesting.
Many unhappy hours later, Alanna sat in Mrs. Marie's house, frankly starving. A towel was wrapped around her raw, red skin. It still burned from Mrs. Marie's hair dye. Lady Valeria sat on the love seat across from her, inspecting her through squinting eyes.
Finally, she said, "Better. Definitely better."
Alanna resisted rolling her eyes, "Grrreat. Now, am I allowed to eat?"
Valeria and Marie exchanged a look, then Marie nodded towards Brenna. The servingmaid disappeared to Alanna's immense relief.
"You know, I believe it's now appropriate to peak underneath the towel," Mrs. Marie stated, her expression eager, "Your hair will be dry by now and if I give it a quick brush..."
Before Alanna or Valeria could say anything Mrs. Marie was unwrapping the starch towel. Alanna caught Valeria's eyes and saw them bulge when they saw the color. Marie clapped her hands and started brushing her hair into ringlets. After a minute or two, she stepped away and sighed, "Brilliant, absolutely brilliant! The Prince will be damned if that hair doesn't catch his eye!"
Lady Valeria lifted a looking glass off the table and gave it to Alanna. The assassin took it and stared at her reflection in an awe that was a mixture of horror and curiosity. The hair was golden as the sky was blue and it didn't look half so bad with her green eyes, she supposed, touching it gingerly.
"Contrary to what you must be thinking, you do look pretty," Valeria commented, lightly.
"I look completely fake. Like a doll or a-" but she was cut off by Mrs. Marie.
"A doll! No my dear! You are the golden locks of Lady Cythera with the piercing green eyes of Lady Delia and Lady Gwynnen's immaculate upkeep," Mrs. Marie gushed, her eyes glazing over romantically.
"Who?" Alanna quizzed.
Mrs. Marie had to shut her eyes before she could reply, calmly, "My dear girl, they are only the most talked about and-"
"Mrs. Marie? I have the lady's tea," Brenna interrupted, gently, holding a silver tray which displayed just one cup of tea. Alanna frowned, hadn't she said she was hungry?
"Oh yes, yes," Mrs. Marie nodded, taking the cup and putting it into Alanna's hands, "This should hold your appetite. All noble ladies eat like birds."
"Birds?" Alanna grumbled, sipping her tea and practically choking on it, "What is this?"
"Tea. With no milk or sugar," Mrs. Marie responded, her eyes widening at Alanna's outburst.
"Bleach! It tastes worse than that," her face twisted, as she forced herself to take another sip of the dark, rancid liquid.
"That might just be the beauty potion," Valeria grinned, holding up an empty potion bottle and before Alanna could spit out the gulp of tea in her mouth, she put in, "And don't you dare throw it out. You'll drink every drop of that tea or I swear to the Mother Goddess, the Master will hear of your disobediance."
Hating the older women, Alanna swallowed the tea in her mouth and continued to sip it, prettily. She hoped the Master could appreciate dedication.
"Smile softly and laugh softly. And whatever you do, don't let on that you like any other man."
"Eat slowly and little. Don't make sipping sounds with drinks or soup."
"Curtsy whenever you see the King and Queen."
"Try not to talk too much about yourself, I hear Prince Jonathan hates that."
"Do you know this precious Prince?" Alanna demanded the next day, while being squeezed into a gown she was sure was two sizes too small for her.
Mrs. Marie looked embarrassed. She couldn't say she did know the Prince. Alanna grinned, enjoying showing her up. But Valeria only reprimanded her, "Alanna, don't be pert."
How could she help but be pert? She was suffocating in her gown! For Mithros sake, most people said that her frame was petite. What were they trying to do, make her wear a seven-year-old's dress? Worse yet, all Mrs. Marie and Lady Valeria had done all morning was hail her with rules on the decorums of being a noble lady and how to behave around the Prince. She couldn't be overly bookish, but not a dunderhead either. She mustn't be too lively, but then again no one liked a wallflower. It nearly drove Alanna insane. More than a few times she had wanted to beg to be a maid.
As Julianne and Brenna pulled her gown tighter, she stared at Lady Valeria. She looked oddly out of place in a servingmaid's gown because it was hard to deny the blue blood in her features. For the hundreth time Alanna wondered how this assignment would work with a maid playing a lady and a lady playing a maid.
"Mrs. Marie, Jenna, Brilly, will you allow the Lady and me some time alone?" Valeria requested, suddenly.
"But her bodice needs to be tied-" Marie protested.
"I'll finish her up," Valeria said in a tone that was eerily final.
Mrs. Marie gave leave, albeit reluctuantly. Alanna swiveled her head around, feeling her newly curled hair framing her face. Lady Valeria studied her, from her buffed nails to her plucked eyebrows, to her blonde hair that was half up and half down.
"Turn around," she ordered and this time, Alanna listened without a smart remark.
Valeria flipped over a standing mirror so Alanna could see herself and came to stand behind her, tying her up. Alanna ignored her own reflection and instead studied Valeria's face as she laced her up. It was oddly smooth and dignified, even in a tacky yellow maid's dress.
"To kill is to perform an art," she started, her eyes concentrating on the lacing, "When you kill someone, you are giving them their greatest gift. You and I, we are talented in this field. However, you are still young and still an amateur though your star is rising. Today, you'll embark upon the one assignment that will make you. You must know, this is important for the Master himself will be watching you to see how you do. If you succeed, he may even feel the need to reveal himself to you. It is a great honor."
"I know," Alanna repeated, "I know."
No one could understand how she longed to meet the Master, longed to thank him for saving her life.
"But," Valeria continued in a near whisper, "You do risk something. For an assignment of this stature, if you fail, you die. The Master will not have you traced back to his name."
"I will not fail," the Lioness reassured, her voice definite.
"I'm only warning you. Do not let yourself be distracted. And the biggest rule of all, do not let yourself fall in love," the other woman finished, patting Alanna's back.
The beauty of a moment where a teacher gives advice to a student was broken by Alanna's guffaws. Lady Valeria smiled, letting her have her moment of amusement. When Alanna was finally finished, she said, sarcastically, "Love? Love? I don't even know this Prince and I hate him already."
"Don't say that when you may have to eat your words. It needn't be the Prince, the palace holds many young men," Valeria cautioned, pulling up a messy lock of hair.
"You talk to me like I've never had an assignment, Viper!" Alanna grinned, "I've never fallen in love with one yet and I don't see myself doing it now."
"Jonathan isn't just another man," Valeria came around and looked at her seriously, "He's far younger than anyone you've dealt with and I fear a tad more charming. Watch out for him."
Alanna snorted, slightly touched at Valeria's worry.
"Promise me, girl," Lady Valeria voiced, now stern.
Alanna rolled her eyes, "I promise."
Next Chapter: Alanna makes her court debut.