It was only Siara sitting in the room. Josephine and the delegates of Tevinter and Nevarra were just in the room over, which only had one door in and out of it. Since Siara wasn't particularly interested in politics, both she and Josephine had decided it would be better if she stayed out in the larger room. So that was what she was doing, sitting in the sunshine, her feet resting on the table in front of her. She felt like she could almost doze off, but she also knew that she wouldn't be able to. Sleep was still eluding her, almost more after that conversation with Commander Rutherford. It had stirred up old memories, and she wasn't having a fun time with it.

It was a large room, the table she was sitting at was near a doorway leading out to a balcony. The fence on the balcony had ivy draped off it, purple flowers spattered through the green leaves. Further inside were two sofas and a coffee table, a couple of bookshelves, and a chess table. Off to the side was a small table with glasses and a decanter of some sort of alcohol in it. Though Siara, for once, didn't go near the alcohol. She was, after all, on the clock. Even if she did almost feel like dozing off.

If she had fallen asleep she wouldn't have heard the subtle sound of the door behind her opening. Her eyes opened a crack, but she didn't move. It wasn't Josephine and the delegates - they were in the room in front of her. The door behind her led to a hallway. The footsteps were quiet, almost hesitant. As though whoever it was, they were trying to sneak up on Siara.

She didn't move, just continued to act as though she was asleep, waiting for whoever it was to get close enough that she could take them by surprise instead. She didn't have her weapons with her. They had been left back in their room, hidden away, due to the mission being one of diplomacy. Siara and Josephine had decided that it would probably be safer for Josephine if there weren't any obvious weapons while they met the delegates. With any luck, that choice wasn't coming back to bite them in the rear-end. Maybe this newcomer was simply a very quiet walking servant, coming to offer refreshments. Though Siara doubted it.

The footsteps got closer to her, but still she waited. She waited until the stranger was standing almost right next to her chair, and only then did she fling her feet around and off to the side, standing up with her seat between them. In front of her stood a man wearing a hooded mask, a knife in his hand.

Siara kicked the chair at him, making him fumble for a moment. It gave her enough time to launch herself at him, grabbing the wrist of the hand he held the knife in. For a moment they just wrestled with each other before the man managed to pull himself free.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice thick with an Orlesian accent.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" Siara retorted, not letting her guard down. She wanted to search for a weapon, but she knew that one small slip up and this man would be attacking her. Would likely be thrusting a knife into her neck or her gut, or even plunging it into her heart. Whatever his preferred way of murder was. If she took her eyes off him, he would have the advantage. She couldn't allow that. Her life depended on it, and it was likely she wasn't his intended target.

The man didn't respond. Instead, he launched himself at Siara once more. Once again, Siara managed to grab his wrist. This time, she managed to force his hand down to his side, holding his wrist with one hand and getting around beside him. She proceeded to elbow him in the face twice, sending him stumbling backwards. He shook himself off, but annoyingly he hadn't dropped the knife. He shook himself off, shooting forward and tackling Siara. They went sprawling to the ground, the would-be assassin landing on top of Siara. He used his weight to drive the knife closer, clutching it in both hands.

Siara managed to hold the knife away with one hand, still holding his wrist, digging her fingernails into his flesh. She reached past his arms with her other hand and tried to get her fingers under his mask, trying to gauge at his eyes. When that didn't work, she tried to gauge at his throat. The knife was getting closer and closer to her chest, and she was running out of time and strength.

A jolt of adrenaline shot through her, followed by a freezing sensation shooting down her arm and hand. A shard of ice formed from her hand, a sharp point stabbing straight through the man's neck. Siara's eyes widened in confusion and possibly even fear as the man started to choke on his own blood, the red substance dripping out of his fatal injury and onto Siara's clothes. He slumped forward, all strength behind his knife vanishing. She quickly shoved him off her and stumbled to her feet, staring at her hand, then to the shard of ice embedded in her attacker's neck.

Now wasn't the time to think about how it was possible. Siara instead set to hiding exactly how she had managed to kill this man, starting with the shard of ice. She pulled it from his neck and glanced around the room before electing to head out to the balcony, pulling herself up on the rails and hiding it on the roof. Next, she looked for something to replace it with. Her eyes landed on the chairs around the table, flicking to the wound on his neck. The legs were a bit larger than the initial wound, but it would do. She grabbed the nearest chair and broke off one of the legs, thrusting it through his neck.

Having covered up how she managed to kill this man as best she could, she decided to give him a quick frisk search. She pulled off his mask, revealing a young-ish looking man. He might have been in his mid or late twenties, it was hard to tell. He had no features that stood out particularly, and his hair was cropped short. He didn't even have any tattoos on his face. When Siara started searching through his pockets, however, she found a small slip of parchment. On it were two words.

She stood up again, shoving the slip of parchment into a pocket just as Josephine and the delegates returned to the room. They looked at the mess and body in shock, Josephine hurrying over to look for herself.

"What happened?" she asked. Siara glanced at her hand, then looked back to the body in front of her. She shrugged.

"This guy tried to kill me," she stated, perfectly simply. The delegates were muttering to each other, eyeing Siara. Josephine looked around at them, then pulled Siara off to the side.

"Why would someone try to kill you?"

"I don't think it was me he was trying to kill," Siara pulled the parchment from her pocket, showing it to Josephine. The ambassador stared at the writing for a moment, eyes widening. Siara slipped the parchment away again, glancing back at the delegates, then the body, before locking eyes with Josephine.

"Any idea why anyone would want you dead, Ambassador?" she asked. Josephine shook her head.

"None," she said, seeming to be struggling with what she had read. "Maybe because of my work?"

"Perhaps," Siara shrugged, "but I can assure you, I'm not going to be going anywhere without my weapons on me now."

Josephine nodded, not even contemplating arguing.

"I'm going to talk to the delegates," she said. "Would you mind finding a guard or someone to send for the authorities to get this cleaned up?"

Siara nodded. She doubted anyone else would make an attempt on Josephine's life so soon after the first one failed. She pulled the parchment out once more as she stepped out of the room, searching it for any more hint as to who had sent the assassin.

But all she could see on it were those two words.

Josephine Montilyet.