The run-in with the old man had disturbed her, and she was on edge all week before she finally accepted that he had no way of finding her.
She didn't so much as resemble the form her mother would have remembered, but the notion that someone was searching for her, that someone perhaps knew what she was, didn't sit well.
But for Evangeline's sake, she pulled herself together.
She took the girl to the park, an open grassy field, surrounded by trees, where people walked their dogs and let their children play.
It was still very early in the morning when they arrived, and there were only a few other people in sight. Evangeline scampered off to play with the other children.
And that was when she saw them.
Two people who she would have recognised anywhere.
Standing in the middle of the park, throwing sticks for a golden-furred dog, was Princess Nehemia, and with her was Celeana Sardothien.
There they were, no guards or courtiers or royalty in sight. Only a hundred paces away.
This was her chance. She started towards them, feeling in her pocket for Wesley's letter. After all this time, she would finally be able to deliver it.
And then her hand met the bottom of the pocket. Traced its sides. Tried the other pocket, but to no avail.
The letter wasn't there.
This might well have been her only chance. Her one and only chance.
And she'd left the gods-damned letter at home.
She changed direction, defeated. Evangeline was building a tree-den with some of the other children at the edge of the park, and she wandered towards her to watch.
She'd gone only a few paces when a thin sliver of wood struck her squarely in the back. On instinct, she whirled to look for any attackers. A stick now lay at her feet, and that golden dog now bounded towards her. A small smile broke out when she saw the Eyllwean Princess. Celaena now gone from her side, she covered her mouth and started running after the dog.
"I'm so, so sorry." She gasped when she arrived, flushed. "I wasn't looking, and I didn't realise you were there and…" She trailed off as Lysandra started laughing.
"Sorry." She repeated with a bashful grin.
"Royalty, apologising to me, your highness?" Lysandra smiled warmly at Nehemia, but simultaneously slid a casual hand to her side, concealing the Courtesan's Mark there.
Nehemia grimaced. "Really not necessary."
Lysandra grinned. Obviously not that formal if she was friends with the assassin.
"I'm Lysandra."
"Nehemia, though I'm guessing you know that already."
"Well, yeah. Most people do."
The princess smiled and gave a little shrug.
"Unfortunately."
Lysandra nodded in the direction of the glass castle. "How did you come to befriend the King's Champion?"
Perhaps this conversation could give her an opportunity to contact the assassin. She would already have sent a message if she wasn't certain that Arobynn was monitoring her mail, whether he acknowledged her presence In the city or not.
"We met at the castle. She happens to be familiar with my language, so she is helping me to learn yours."
As if remembering her own language, the princess's Eyllwean accent thickened slightly.
"Do you spend much time together?"
"When we are not needed for our respective duties. This is her dog." She added.
It was all she could do to keep from raising a brow.
Celaena had a dog?
She supposed the assassin had never shown a dislike for the creatures, but… still. It surprised her.
Lysandra nodded in reply, unsure how to broach the subject of future opportunities for contact without seeming suspiciously eager.
As it turns out, she was saved from further awkwardness by Evangeline's small figure barrelling into her at top speed and begging her to come and see what she'd built.
She gave Nehemia an apologetic smile and allowed herself to be tugged away as the princess smiled warmly in return, giving Lysandra a little wave before she turned away.
The letter was lying by the door when Lysandra stepped into her apartment a few hours later.
It was addressed "Sandra" In large, rounded handwriting. She groaned aloud as she stooped to pick it up. Only one person alive called her that. She only put up with him because he had also had an equally demeaning nickname for Celaena.
But what on this rutting earth did Archer Finn want from her this time?
As it turns out, the letter was a simple warning. Short, and vague. From someone who knew they were monitored.
It simply read:
Dear Sandra,
I heard that you were planning to attend a party tomorrow evening. A mutual acquaintance of ours who has recently returned to Rifthold will be there, so I am most sorry to hear of your illness. It is such a shame you will be forced to stay away.
With all my wishes for a speedy recovery, A Finn.
Guarded, careful words. The meaning was quite clear. Celaena would be at that party. He believed she may act on the life threat she had once made.
The sensible thing would be to avoid the party.
Such a shame that she had no intention of being sensible.
Lysandra strode along the street, a long, dark cloak slung over her shoulders to protect her dress from the rain that drizzled down from the grey cloud-smudged sky that peeked down between the buildings.
The hood was thrown up to keep dry her upbraided hair and the deep red mask styled after the slender face of a fox. The dress was the same hue, and clung to her body, the fabric concealing only the tips of her breasts, an hourglass of revealed skin down her front covered only by thin laces which held the sides in place. The skirts fell only to mid-thigh at the front, but flowed round behind her in an ever-lengthening curve that had it sweeping the floor like a tail if she didn't hold it up as she was now.
Her ever-present sandals had been replaced with pure white pumps to resemble fox's paws which she placed carefully on the grimy cobbles in an attempt to keep them clean.
She turned to the house and was about to enter when there was movement to her right.
Out of a narrow window on street level crawled a woman with honey-gold hair.
Her short, snowy gown was stained crimson and she swayed as she stood. Shouts drifted up from the room she'd just climbed from, and she bolted off into the night before her pursuers could emerge.
So much for speaking to Celaena.
Sighing, Lysandra shoved through the door and entered the party.