In her first full day as head of the Centralis Assassins Guild, Sara hit the ground running. She'd spent much of the previous late afternoon and evening establishing what she thought were decent Guild rules and piecing together a roll of Guild members that was as current as she could figure.

It seemed rather like Darhk, distracted by his other "experiments," had largely been letting anyone into the Guild who could pay the fee—and then ignoring any training, ransoms, or grievances. Only a basic lack of ambition on the part of the more experienced Guild members—and, Sara thought, a lack of competence on the part of the less experienced ones—had kept things from getting so bad that the king would have had to act.

Although she knew, as did everyone, that King Hunter had rarely made any sort of decisive move since the death of Queen Miranda three years ago. Something the Assassins Guild had been cleared of.

Despite the name of the Guild, killing wasn't all members did. They were saboteurs and personal guards of a very particular and expensive sort, licensed to kill in the name of protecting their charges. Sometimes the crown hired them, when it was on good terms with the Guild, something that was distinctly not the case now.

Well, if Sara had anything to say about it, that would become the case again.

She frowned down at the letters from other Assassins Guild leaders in other cities, all sent to Darhk…and found, tossed in a pile near his desk, unopened. The latest was dated a few years back. Apparently, the other Guild leaders had eventually just stopped trying to deal with him.

It would have been nice to know that before she'd come here. She couldn't believe Ra's hadn't known.

But maybe he had.

One letter, from a source that had taken great pains to conceal their identity, had delivered word that an out-kingdom agent had arrived in Centralis for "a job." The wording was quite imprecise, and Sara couldn't ascertain if it was meant to be a job of assassination or a job of protection—but it was clear that the writer expected Darhk to be displeased about it. Interesting. She checked the date and was frankly relieved to find that it had been after—although not long after—Queen Miranda's death.

Still. Sara decided to keep this particular information close to her vest for a while. Just in case.

She'd already decided not to unload all her planned changes and the new Guild requirements and rules until after the royal audience, although she had asked Amaya to make it clear through the usual chain of information that there would be a full Guild meeting later. With any luck, after she was able to get changed. She really didn't want to get blood on her good outfit.

She was expecting at least one challenger. She wasn't overly worried about that.

Sara was puzzling over another letter, this one from even further back and even more cryptic, when Amaya rapped on the door, then stuck her head inside. "You might want to start getting ready," the other woman said with amusement. "Isn't your date picking you up soon?"

"Not a date," Sara said automatically, turning to look at the timepiece on her desk. "Oh, hells!" She launched herself up to her feet, sitting the letter on her desk. "Can you help me with my hair? It won't take me long to get dressed, and I had a good long soak earlier." She still didn't feel completely clean.

"Of course." Amaya held the door as Sara darted out of the office and down to her room in the Guild hall, where she'd already taken out her investiture armor and the items that she planned to wear with it today. She took a deep breath and regarded the outfit, a piece of a former life in more ways than one, but certainly a statement in and of itself.

"Well," she said quietly, reading out to run her fingers over the white leather. "We'll see who knows what this means." A smile drifted over her face. "This…should be interesting."

Leonard would admit that he liked to cut a fine figure in his clothing, especially at court. Oh, he wasn't a total peacock—he liked his blacks and dark, rich blues, thank you very much. But costly materials, well-made pieces and skillful decoration were things he was willing (and able, these days) to pay for.

Today, he was wearing a midnight blue velvet doublet, embroidered in silver with an abstract pattern that he liked to think evoked snowflakes, over black velvet breeches. His Guild emblem was around his neck on its platinum chain, and a long midnight blue velvet cape was swirling from his shoulders. And as the carriage he'd commissioned pulled up outside the Assassins Guild hall, just over the short bridge linking it to Guild Row proper, he got out knowing that he looked damned good indeed.

And then he set eyes on Sara A'Stella as she emerged from the hall to meet him.

Like when he'd met her the day before, her golden hair was in braids that were meticulously arranged about her head, shining like more expensive forms of personal adornment. But gone were the worn and serviceable grayish leathers. She looked…she looked…

Well, she looked gorgeous. And deadly. Both, beautiful as a well-honed knife blade and as lethal.

Tight white leather—a catsuit, he thought, and the notion made his mouth run dry—hugged every curve of her body, fitting like a second skin. Over that was leather armor, beautifully tooled with stylized shapes that, he realized as he drew closer, were birds. She wore an intricate neck collar, a corset with silver buckles and lacing, and a tooled leader belt—without sheathes, as they weren't supposed to carry weapons in audience with the king, although Len wouldn't bet at all that she didn't have knives secreted somewhere on her person.

Where, he didn't dare guess.

A heavy, slit-sided white silk skirt, just short enough to be unfashionable by current court mores but also short enough to fight in without tripping, swirled around her legs, and she wore white boots instead of the point-toed shoes so many of the court ladies wore. Len ripped his gaze away from her legs and looked up at Sara's amused face as she watched him in return.

It wasn't, by most lights, full court formal. But it was thoroughly, incredibly her.

And if he didn't miss his mark, it was the armor of a Nanda Parbat-trained assassin. And better not to chase that detail down right now.

"You," he said respectfully, bowing to the perfect level, one Guild master to another, "look incredible."

Sara curtsied in turn. "You don't look so bad yourself," she murmured, running an appreciative eye over him. "Suits you."

"Why thank you, my lady." Len smirked at her, then suddenly realized what was missing from her outfit. "Ah…you do have Darhk's emblem?" It was just a piece of jewelry, really, but if someone else showed up with it, they could make a play for the Guild by introducing an element of doubt into things. And no one needed that.

But Sara nodded, putting a hand on her belt pouch—one that, Leonard was glad to see, had the sort of latch even the most skillful thief would have trouble popping before she noticed. (Ah, now, there was a challenge...) "I don't like wearing the thing," she muttered. "It makes a shiver run down my spine whenever I put it on. I'll hold onto it until I get my own made…or something…but I'm not wearing it."

Or something? Len nodded in understanding, though, then turned to offer her his arm. "Shall we go?" he said with a courtly nod. "I'm a fan of making an entrance, but best not to be late today."

Sara laughed, a lovely low ripple of amusement that made gooseflesh run up Len's arms…and made other body parts take notice too. (As if the tight leather wasn't enough.) She took his arm, though, giving him a sparkling smile, and he smiled back as he led her to the carriage.

Oh…hells.

Well, no matter how the court reacted to her outfit, Sara decided a little smugly, the head of the Thieves Guild was certainly impressed.

Still, despite the clear admiration—and attraction, she's pretty sure—in his eyes, he hadn't taken any liberties, not physical (well, he wouldn't have held his Guild for this long if he was that stupid) but also not any other kind. He'd dialed the personal regard back nearly immediately when they'd taken their seats, going thoroughly professional and telling her a bit about other Guild masters and people she might see at court.

Sara appreciated that professionalism and regretted it both—it'd been a long, long time since she'd taken even a casual lover, and she's pretty sure Len would be an excellent one in many ways. Still, for now, professionalism was best.

In a bit of silence, she found herself studying the Guild emblem he was wearing, the key of the Thieves Guild carved into a large, deep blue sapphire shaped, a bit, like a snowflake.

"Where did you get yours made?" she asked suddenly, leaning forward to study it a little. "Is there an artisan who has the contract for them?"

Len tilted his head at her, then looked out the window as the carriage crossed the bridge into the noble district. Then he glanced back. "No one in particular," he said casually, leaning back against the seat, "but there's a fellow in the Artificers Guild, oddly enough, who made this one and a few others in recent years. He does good work. I can put you in touch with him."

Sara nodded, still studying the emblem. "Why a snowflake?"

That got a quiet laugh, and Len held out a hand. The light glinted off a small silver ring on his little finger, but Sara was immediately distracted by something else: the shining white of frost as it crept over his hand. Then Len snapped his fingers, and the air inside the carriage was briefly full of sparkling ice crystals, so small that they barely affected anything when they melted.

Sara smiled at the display, then gave Len an inquiring look. His smile was swift but oddly conflicted.

"I don't have much magic," he told her, settling back again. "Just enough for little stuff like that. But…let's just say that…" A longer pause. "…that my father frowned on using it at all. So, celebrating it…it's worth doing for more than one reason."

There's a story there, Sara was certain, but she let it go for the moment. "I wonder," she said instead, thoughtfully. "I don't know what I'd use. Just a round stone with the Guild's knife symbol would work. Moonstone, maybe."

Leonard regarded her. "Darhk had a really dark ruby, didn't he?" he mused. "Nearly black. Odd shape."

Leave it to the thief to recognize and remember that. Sara put a hand to her belt pouch. "Yeah."

"Can I…see it?"

She knew he didn't want the Guild…neither did she, Sara reminded herself…so, after a moment, she reached into the pouch, pulling out the damned thing by the chain, not the stone, and extended it toward him.

Len studied it a moment, then reached out and, before she could say anything more, grasped the stone itself. He shuddered nearly immediately, fingers contracting, but he didn't let go. Sara, suddenly concerned, kept her hold on the chain, watching his expression.

It was only another moment before he let go, though, recoiling from the thing and shaking his head.

"Harrison Wells, the head of the Mages Guild, promised to be here today. I recommend you let him have a look at that," he said, wiping his head on the seat cushion as if it was physically dirty. "And get your own made as soon as possible, so you can get rid of it. I'll introduce you to Cisco." His lips twitched. "He's a pain, but he does good work."

Sara, wondering, nodded. A moment later, Len met her eyes again, a question in his own.

"What you said before, about someone pulling strings to get Darhk into power…" he asked delicately. "What did you mean?"

Sara considered him, then nodded. "He wasn't shy about it, within the Guild," she told Len. "In fact, I think he thought this 'sponsor' of his would be enough to keep him in power even as he completely neglected his Guild duties and pursued…other interests."

Len's eyes went distant before he shook his head and focused on her again. "Any clue who it was?"

"Not really. Someone powerful, though, in terms of the city." Sara drummed her fingers on the door. "He said I'd regret it…even as I ran my sword through his heart." She gave Len a small smile. "I can't say I wanted to end up as Guild head…but beyond that, I haven't regretted it at all."

Neither did Leonard.

But abruptly, he was rather afraid for this beautiful, amazing woman who done such an incredible thing. He barely knew her…but he didn't want her dead. Or harmed. In any way. And, oh holy hells, he wanted her to stay here in the city, so he could learn more about her. So they could…

Conflicted, Len glanced away, feeling Sara's eyes on him, then back. "Be careful," he said quietly. "If Darhk thought that was the case…he was probably right. He wouldn't have been that bold if he wasn't sure of his patron." He shrugged. "He wasn't stupid. Just evil. Sara…"

She was looking right at him, a question in her eyes, and it was probably ridiculous, but…

"They could go after you," he said, then repeated: "Be careful."

Sara studied him a moment, then actually reached out to put a gentle hand on his arm. Even Len, as touch-shy as he tended to be, smiled a little at that, then looked up to meet her eyes again.

However, Sara's tiny smile in response held no humor at all. In fact, it sent a chill down Leonard's spine…not entirely an unenjoyable chill, but that was entirely based on his own predilection for danger in attractive packages.

Damn.

"Let them try," she said quietly.

Even after Sara had set back in her seat, glancing out the window as they neared the palace, Leonard was still looking at her with…trepidation?...in his eyes. She was glad to see that it was mingled with the respect and attraction from before, but the edge that bordered on fear—that was bad.

She sighed, inwardly. She'd had the bloodlust tamed for a while now, but sometimes vestiges still flickered, and then all too often, it'd be on to another kingdom, another city. Leaving behind people who could have been friends, could have been colleagues…or lovers.

Len cleared his throat, then, and Sara glanced back at him. To her surprise, the hesitation was gone from his eyes. In fact, the bastard was smirking at her. She blinked.

Still smirking.

Lasciviously.

OK. So he liked dangerous people, did he? She could work with that.

Sara smirked back a little. "Tell me," she said, as the carriage halted in a line of others waiting to drop off their passengers. "Are the stories true? About King Hunter?"

Len shrugged. "The ones about how his father sent him away for his own protection as a kid?" he drawled. "And about how he was kidnapped and grew up on the streets as a cutpurse before the old king finally found him?"

"Those ones, yes." Sara smoothed her skirt and obtrusively, she thought, made sure her weapons were still in place.

"No idea."

Sara eyed him, noting the far-too-innocent look in his eyes and the smirk lingering on his lips. "Right. And is that how the head of a Thieves Guild became such good friends with a monarch?"

"Perhaps…"

But then the door was opening, and Sara, with one last amused glare at the smirking thief, allowed the footman to take her hand and help her out into the courtyard.

Leonard promptly followed, holding out his arm again with alacrity, almost as if he wanted to make sure she didn't go missing. Whether that was because he wanted her company or because he thought she'd get into trouble, Sara wasn't sure. Both, maybe.

Probably.

It was a lovely, sunny day, although it was cool—fortunately. Sara, taking Len's arm, studied the courtyard and the other people there. No one was taking much notice of her yet, even in her leather armor. Well, maybe the visible absence of a Guild emblem helped, for now.

It was good to see that Leonard had a similar reaction to Darhk's stone. Amaya had refused to even touch it. Sara tapped her belt pouch thoughtfully. She'd be curious what the Mages Guild head said, especially since Len had vouched for him. She'd already decided that it might be important to keep this thing out of the wrong hands.

Sara was no mage, but it felt like more than just a Guild emblem.

Len's arm tightened on hers as they started through the massive, scarred wood doors flanked by sober guardsmen. Sara glanced up at him, noting how serious he looked suddenly. She glanced around as they entered the palace, crossing quickly to the main hall, where Leonard explained to a herald who they were and why they were there, and Sara did the traditional bearing of her forearms to show that she (supposedly) had no weapons and had no intent to kill. Ah. People were starting to take notice of her.

It was a tall, frowning man in well-cut but otherwise nondescript clothing that first sidled up to them. Sara, bemused, noted the Guild emblem around his neck—and took the initiative.

"Master Harrison Wells, I presume?" she asked, pulling Len to the side. "A pleasure."

The tall man lifted an eyebrow, visibly amused. He looked at her, then at Len, who smirked. Then back at her.

"Master Sara A'Stella," he said in a dry voice. "Indeed. A pleasure." He reached out and took her hand, bowing over it in a way that, much to Sara's own amusement, made Leonard frown. "You've managed something that many of us hadn't, despite quite a bit of trying."

Len cleared his throat, then, glancing around at the many people entering the hall around them. Harrison ignored him. So did Sara.

"You're welcome," she told him, just as drily, reclaiming her hand.

Harrison nodded to her. "I suppose that now, seeing this…" He rather obviously looked her over, and Len sighed, and Sara smirked. "…I can understand how." The eyebrow lifted again. "The League."

Len went still then, and Sara knew that he had, indeed, recognized her armor. A flicker of regret went through her, but then…he hadn't treated her any differently.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"And there is a story, I'm sure."

"Yes." She smiled at him, nearly against her will. "But not for now."

Then Leonard was guiding her onward, through the main hall, toward the front. There was no one on the now-single throne there, but that wasn't really surprising. Sara grinned at Harrison over her shoulder but allowed herself to be led farther into the hall.

Oh, yes. Eyes were upon her. Sara smiled undiscriminating around, trying to mix cheerful competence with "don't fuck with me" badassery. It seemed to work, given how many people stopped in their tracks or pulled back. She could deal with that.

Len tugged her gently aside near the front, sighing. He gave her a little sidelong smirk, but she could see the calculation beneath his eyes as he did so.

"When the king gets here," he said quietly, as people murmured and whispered around them, "you'll be one of the first people he acknowledges, if not the first. I'm not sure how that will go, but…he's not an enemy, I can assure you of that."

Sara nodded, watching him and the rest of the hall at the same time…if that was even possible. As much as possible, anyway.

Leonard was doing much the same thing. He frowned as he seemed to focus on some people, almost smiled as he saw others. Then he looked at her again.

"I'm not sure who among the other Guild masters will be here," he said quietly. "All three captains of the Triple Guard will be. And…" A quick frown, so quick that she almost didn't see it. "…the head of the King's Council, at the very least. Maybe the Lord General. Others."

Sara eyed him thoughtfully. "Interesting," she mused. "You like…more or less…the Guard captains. But not the head of the Council."

Len was still watching the throng around them. He didn't argue. "No surprise there."

"That the head of the Thieves Guild would get along with the captains of the Guard? Isn't it?"

A lengthy pause, and then he smirked again, looking at her. "Well, they know me, I know them. We play by the rules. Mostly."

Sara acknowledged that with a tip of her head. "And the Council?"

Leonard frowned…and then wiped his face clear of any expression whatsoever as a smooth voice behind them said, "Well. This is an…intriguing… surprise."

Sara, truly not an amateur in games of power, barely reacted. Instead, she lifted an eyebrow, turning slightly, smoothly. "And have we met?"

Leonard turned with her. "Zaman Druce," he said, in a slightly amused tone that utterly contradicted his expression before. "Head of the Council."