Zaman Druce, a richly dressed older man, frowned at him, then looked back at Sara, who figured that she should probably curtsy.

So she didn't. She'd learned, over the years, to trust her instincts when it came to people like this, and if she made Druce an enemy—so be it. She had an odd, strong feeling that he was anyway.

She did incline her head and then offered him a hand. Druce stared at it as if it was a snake, lip curled.

"Sara A'Stella. Head of the Assassins Guild," Len told the man, then tilted his head as if in surprise. "Ah. You were…friendly, in a way…with Damien Darhk, weren't you? I'm sorry."

His tone said that he was rather the opposite. Sara let a smile touch her lips in a way that showed she agreed. Druce's eyes narrowed.

"I would not say 'friendly,'" he said shortly. "Darhk was…useful." He stared at Sara, who saw him take in her armor, although she couldn't say for sure that he knew what it meant. "Time will show, I suppose, if you are, as well. I rather doubt it."

On the surface, it was rather an insult. Under that surface, Sara heard a threat. She met the man's eyes, and for just a moment, let all that she was capable of—and yes, a hint of the bloodlust that still coiled within—show in her own.

Druce actually took a step back. Sara felt Leonard twitch besides her, as if he was holding in laughter—or a cheer—but she kept her eyes on the other man.

Begin as you mean to go on.

Finally, Druce shook his head, then turned abruptly, as if determined to end the interaction just as rudely and on his terms. But Len didn't let him.

"Oh, and Druce?" he called lightly, after the man had taken only one step away. "You dropped this."

He hadn't dropped anything. Still, Len was extending a small eating knife in a jeweled sheath toward him, a seemingly friendly smile on his face. Druce, who'd turned almost involuntarily, stared at it, then frowned, snatching it back and spinning again to stalk away.

Len and Sara watched him go. After a moment, Sara turned and eyed Leonard, who shook himself, as if settling the ruffled feathers he hadn't shown before.

"I despise him," he told her shortly. "He's a symbol of so many things I hate. And…"

"…and it's mutual."

They both turned, but Sara took her cue, again, from Len, who didn't show any alarm. A man about Sara's age, brown-haired, lanky, and wearing a friendly grin and a City Guard uniform, watched them. He bowed to Sara, then, the right depth for a mid-level Guild member to any Guild head, and Sara inclined her head in response.

"Barry West," Len said with a put-upon sigh that didn't fool Sara for a moment. "City Guard investigator and liaison to the Thieves and Assassins Guilds." He winked at Sara. "They had to name a different liaison to the Prostitutes Guild. He gets too flustered."

"Hey!" Barry protested, although the faint flush on his cheeks confirmed Len's words better than any words could. "It's a full-time job as it is, keeping an eye on you." He flushed even more as Len smirked at him. "You know what I mean. Um. Anyway, pleased to meet you," He smiled at Sara again, and she couldn't help smiling in response. Barry was just that kind of guy. "In the next few days, we'll set up a meeting schedule for reports and stuff. OK?" A shadow crossed his eyes. "Darhk had completely stopped before…well, before you. The records are probably a mess."

"They are," Sara told him fervently. "I'm doing my best at getting things together."

Barry beamed at her. "The mere fact that you're trying is a really good thing," he told her sincerely, then looked up. "Hells! Gotta go. Good luck, Sara!"

The man hurried off to talk to another man standing near the throne, drawing a chuckle from Len and a smile from Sara. "Is he always so…" she asked Len, uncertain how to end the question. Earnest? Cheerful? Frazzled?

Len snorted. "Yes. Sometimes more so," he told her, smirking as he glanced around. "Barry's wife, Iris West—he took her patronym as it's higher rank—is a master bard. Ah, and the daughter of the captain of the City Guard." He nodded at the man by the throne. "And that's a sign that things are about to get started. Do you…"

But Sara had already glanced upward at a faint sound from up in the rafters, frowning. It'd sounded like wings, but not those of a mere pigeon or a crow. Much…larger…

She barely managed to restrain herself from pulling one of her hidden knives as two large shapes swooped downward, one from one side of the room, backwinging to land precisely on either side of the throne. Sara let out a long breath once they did, then gave Leonard a long look. He actually looked a bit sheepish—well, at least he hadn't been trying to surprise her.

"I didn't know the captains of the royal guard were…"

"Avians?" Len nodded. "Carter is the head of the king's guard; Kendra is the head of the queen's," he said quietly. "And, yes, it still exists. It's just mostly merged with the king's guard, now." He shook his head. "They nearly died when…when the queen did; in fact, I hear Carter did technically die for a few moments before the healers brought him back."

Sara watched the two winged figures, members of a race that usually lived high in the Thanagarian Mountains to the north. "That's hard."

"Yes." But Len's eyes tracked to a doorway on the far right side of the room. "And there's the seneschal," he said. "Soon, now."

The brown-haired woman, clad all in gray, paused by the herald who was at attention there and surveyed the room. Sara studied her, curious, then looked back at Len.

"Gideon Waverider," he clarified, reading her look correctly. "She's from a land to the south, across the sea, where they use that kind of personal surname, though I don't know how she got that one." He sighed. "The old seneschal was another casualty of the attack on the palace. She arrived not long after."

"Oh?"

Leonard smiled a little at the tone and the expression on Sara's face. "Honestly, she was thoroughly vetted and vouched for first. We're not that careless here. She's a little…standoffish, I suppose…to most people, but we get along, and she's excellent at her job." He tilted his head. "I see the prince isn't attending court today. If he does, she's always by his side."

Sara nodded thoughtfully, wondering…but then the herald pounded his staff on the ground, and the crowd around the great hall quieted, all looking toward the throne.

"His Royal Majesty, King Michael Hunter of the Five Cities," the herald announced, voice ringing through the enormous room.

Sara wasn't sure what she'd expected of the king. But it wasn't this sad-eyed, brown-haired, thin man in the long, plain, brown robe. She watched as he paused to say something quietly to the seneschal, Gideon, a smile actually flickering across his face, then walked toward the throne.

Len sighed. "He hates 'Michael,'" he said quietly in her ear. "During his cutpurse days in Londinium, he was 'Rip.'" He shook his head. "He took 'Hunter" as the name of his line instead of 'Gold" as a little bit of a…criticism…of his father. Long story."

Hunter reached the throne then and took his seat, reaching up to touch the golden circlet on his head as if he'd forgotten it was there. He smiled again, just a little, as the seneschal took up a spot at his right hand, then looked out into the hall, face falling into its former expression of thoughtful melancholy.

Len extended his arm to Sara again, and she took it.

Showtime.

The herald stepped forward again, raising his voice. "Court is open!" A pause. "Leonard A'Centralis, head of the Thieves Guild," he announced into the sudden hush, "sponsoring…Sara A'Stella, newly made head of the Assassins Guild."

If anyone hadn't heard before this—unlikely, Sara supposed—they surely knew now. Voices rose around them as she and Leonard walked toward the throne, stopping at precisely the correct distance from it. Len released her arm then, bowing low, Guild head to monarch, and maybe only Sara saw the smirk he flashed the other man as he rose.

No, actually, she was pretty sure Gideon saw it too. The seneschal smiled as well.

"Your majesty," Leonard told the king, "on my honor as the head of my Guild, my skills as a master thief and my loyalty as a son of Centralis, I present Sara…the head of the Assassins Guild through the death, by her hand, of Damien Darhk, and her rank as a master assassin."

The buzz grew louder, and Sara drew a deep breath. But before she could approach the throne and take the next step, a disapproving voice rose over the noise, cutting through it like a knife in the night.

Zaman Druce stepped forward, next to a man in metal armor with the carrying of a military leader. He flicked a dismissive glance at Sara and Len, then looked at the king, lip curled again as if he'd smelled something foul. Hunter regarded him with an expression so blank that Sara was somewhat impressed, but that didn't stop Druce from speaking.

"Your majesty," he said smoothly, "do we truly trust in the…honor…of a thief? Do we take the word of a criminal, a man who killed his own father?" He looked right at the tense Leonard, then, as Sara considered those words, and right at her. "And…she does not even wear the emblem of the Assassins Guild! Do we have a witness? Or did one of them simply knife Damien Darhk in the night and expect us to buy this only-too-obvious lie? Does she not have a better witness? Any true witness at all?"

Sara, who frankly hadn't expected her word to be questioned and who planned to deal with the relative loyalty of her Guild masters later, lifted her chin and stared back at him, then reached into her belt pouch and pulled out Darhk's emblem, lifting the dark ruby on its golden chain high into the air—well, as high as she could manage.

"A master of the Assassins Guild presented me with this while it was still marked with blood warm from Darhk's dead body," she told Druce coldly, holding his eyes and allowing her own ire and disgust to show. "You question my honor? I, a…" Well, in for a penny. "…a daughter of Stella and Nanda Parbat, trained and sealed to the League of Assassins?"

Druce's eyes widened as the room grew even louder, then narrowed. Sara flicked a glance sideways at Len and saw a tiny smile on his face, for her, at least. But his eyes were focused on Druce, and they were frigid.

"Then, why are you here?" the lord asked then, recovering a little. "The League does not release what it holds."

"It released me." Sara's chin went up. "I am the keeper of my honor, and if you…"

But before she could make what would almost certainly be a big mistake, another voice rose, and everyone turned to look at the woman in blue who'd approached the throne from the other side. (Hunter, Sara noticed, looked decidedly weary of all the theatrics.)

"I, Iris West, so swear on my honor as a master bard," said the dark woman in blue, pitching her voice in the way of a trained speaker. "I've interviewed those who were there, ascertained that they told me the truth by the traditions of my Guild. Sara A'Stella earned the Guild through the old ways, by challenge, combat and death." She inclined her head. "You may question me if you wish, your majesty." Then she flicked a challenging glance back at the head of the Council. "Do you doubt my honor, Lord Druce?"

Sara decided, immediately, that she really liked this Iris.

But Druce didn't get a chance to respond, because the king did.

"That will not be necessary, Master Bard," he said firmly, ignoring Druce, then looked at Sara. ""You may approach the throne, Master Assassin."

The buzz became louder, and Sara saw the king's lips twitch. He met her eyes and she was surprised to see both amusement and relief in them as he nodded to her. Sara took his measure in that moment, grief and strength, determination and intelligence, and made one of the split-second decisions that had been both her downfall and one of her greatest strengths in past years.

Stepping forward, just one step, she held out her arms to show her lack of weapons, then swept a low curtsy—and then straightened and flourished one of her previously hidden knives in a move so fast that the guards didn't even get a chance to start forward before she'd spun it, carefully grasping the blade just hard enough to open a thin line on her palm before stepping forward and holding the hilt out to the king.

"Your majesty," she said in a carrying tone, "my blade is yours, should you need it."

And just like that, she'd committed to staying here, too. Because the rudimentary ceremony she'd just carried out was an old one, ancient and near-holy, originating in Nanda Parbat with the League of Assassins, the group that'd saved her and trained her and…oh, so much more.

It wasn't quite true fealty. But she'd declared that not only would she not work against the king in any way, he could call on her to lend her skills, should he need them. The skills of a former member of the League of Assassins, something very few monarchs over the years could claim—almost none, in fact.

Hunter meet her eyes, then nodded again, reaching out to take the blood-stained knife even as guards surged forward, surrounding them, and the horrified noise from the crowd rose higher. The king waved them off, while Sara didn't move a muscle until they pulled back. Then she nodded once and stepped back herself, folding her right hand into a fist to stop the slight bleeding, ignoring the sting.

The king looked at the blade, then nodded again. Sara wasn't sure he truly understood…but she thought he might.

"Sara A'Stella is confirmed as the new head of the Centralis Guild of Assassins," he said in his weary, amused voice. "Now…"

And then Len had Sara's arm again, walking her backward in a determined fashion. Sara wondered what he thought she was doing to do next, but she let him. They melted into the crowd despite all the eyes upon them, and Len kept going until they were outside the great hall, guards watching them closely and with great curiosity. Then he leaned against the wall and signed, running a hand over his short hair and closing his eyes. Sara watched him with amusement.

"Isn't it considered a little tacky to leave court before it's over?" she asked quietly.

Len eyed her. "Under most circumstances," he drawled. "However, just now, discretion seemed the better part of valor." He shook his head. "They could have run you through before you blinked…"

"Oh no they couldn't have," Sara told him with a touch of arrogance.

"Still." He gave himself a shake of sorts, straightening his clothing, then regarded her with blue eyes that held a mix of disbelief and amazement. "Did that…thing with the knife…mean what I think it meant?"

Sara considered. "Probably."

Len studied her, then nodded. "Then…you're staying."

"I am." Did he sound pleased? She thought he sounded pleased.

"Excellent." A smirk touched his lips, and he sketched a bow to her. "I am looking forward to continuing our…alliance, Master Assassin." Definite innuendo in the tone. Well, at least he'd recovered quickly.

Sara smirked back, "As am I, Master Thief."

"A-hem." They both turned to see Harrison Wells watching them with a sardonic smile. He shook his head once he saw he had their attention, strolling forward to join them.

"That was quite a performance, Master Assassin," he told Sara drily. "No one will forget the beginning of this court session for a long time." His gaze transferred to Len. "Especially Zaman Druce."

Leonard rolled his eyes and started to retort, but Sara, recalled to something she'd been thinking earlier, suddenly stopped, reaching into her belt pouch and pulling out Darhk's emblem.

"I was wondering," she asked quickly, "if you might have a look at this." She shrugged as the mage lifted an eyebrow. "I'm going to have my own made, very soon, I hope. But this…it doesn't feel right. Whether that's dark magic or something else, I don't know."

Harrison shrugged, then held out a hand for the stone, which Sara deposited promptly in his hand.

The mage sucked in a quick breath immediately, his fingers twitching around the ruby and a look of amazement and disgust crossing his face. After only a moment, he grabbed the emblem's chain with his other hand, releasing the stone to swing free without touching skin. Leonard and Sara exchanged a glance.

"That thing reeks of necromancy," Harrison said, looking like he wanted to wipe his hand off the same way Leonard had. "I haven't felt a taint that strong…in a good long time." He glanced at Leonard. "You felt that?"

The thief shrugged. "Apparently I have enough magic for that," he said, glancing at Sara. "I thought you said you didn't? Have any magic?"

Sara frowned at the stone. "I don't. None at all." A suspicion rose in her thoughts, and she cleared her throat. "Just sensitive to it, I guess."

Harrison studied her another moment, but to Sara's great relief, apparently chose to let it go. He handed the chain, somewhat fastidiously, back to Sara, who tucked the whole thing back into her belt pouch.

"Keep it until you have yours," the mage instructed. "Then, would you please bring it by the Mages Guild hall? I'd like to see if I can figure out what Darhk was doing with it." A shadow crossed his eyes as he looked at Leonard. "We've suspected for quite some time that he'd been up to, well, far more than even what you caught him in. But this…I wonder."

Sara, intrigued, nodded. Harrison nodded back, to her and to Len, then sauntered back outside, presumably to head back to his hall.

And, finally, they could do the same.