Decoy (The Royal Chronicles Book 2)

Camille Peters
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DECOY
CAMILLE PETERS
DECOY

By: Rosewood Publications

Copyright © 2023 by Camille Peters

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express
written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names,
characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living
or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Rosewood Publications
Salt Lake City, Utah
United States of America
www.camillepeters.com

Cover Design by Karri Klawiter

 CO N T E N T S

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue

Thank You
Books By Camille Peters
Acknowledgments
About the Author
CHAP T E R 1
 BLAIR

I t was strange what one noticed when there remained only moments to live. I focused on the
measurement of every shaky breath, each growing more shallow as the fear I’d fought to
suppress coiled its tendrils around my heart. As much as I relished each numbered breath, they were
almost painful.
I struggled to retain a sliver of calm by focusing my thoughts on anything but what lay ahead. I
became hyperaware of every sensation—the stale coldness of my prison, the scratchy feel of the
straw where I sat curled on the floor, the raw pain of my wrists from where my chains had worn away
the skin, and the heavy exhaustion pressing against my senses from a night devoid of sleep, for I’d
refused to let unconsciousness rob me of my final hours.
Once more my thoughts drifted to the events that had led me to this point. I’d been so close…and
now everything was lost. But my regret stemmed far deeper than for my impending lost life, for my
failure had long-lasting consequences beyond my execution. At the reminder of my sentence my terror
rose, tightening its hold over me with its icy fingers.
I touched my throat, wondering what the rough noose would feel like coiling around my neck,
similar to the rope that had draped my dear brother’s neck when he’d been taken from me…before
giving my head a rigid shake.
I didn’t want my last moments to be spent in fear. I leaned against the wall of my cell to stare out
the small barred window high above, where the sky was just beginning to lighten. I tried not to
remember that with the dawn came the dusk of my life and instead focused on the soft golden light
gradually casting away the shadows filling my dank prison. For the briefest moment, I felt almost…
peace.
Yet the emotion was fleeting. I stiffened at the sound of the dungeon door opening and the heavy
footsteps that followed, weaving through the cells until they paused outside mine. I tensed as I
awaited the dreaded pronouncement.
“Prisoner…it’s time.”
Time to die. I’d tried to resolve myself, but panic blinded me and my escalating terror paralyzed
my limbs, ruining my previous resolution to act with dignity until the very end.
When I remained curled up against the cell wall, whoever had been sent to retrieve me released a
frustrated breath, a sigh that was immediately followed by the jingling of keys and the barred door
creaking open. The next moment, a sharp grip dug into my arm to yank me to my feet and turn me to
face the rough, bearded man I recognized as the captain of the guard—the very one who’d had the
honor of informing me of my upcoming execution.
“I said, it’s time.”
In a vain attempt at bravery, I lifted my chin and managed a nod. I numbly followed as he led me
from the cell into the labyrinth of stone corridors lit by torches that cast ominous shadows as we
wove past the other condemned prisoners and up the steps into the prison courtyard.
The chains binding my wrists rattled with every step, but no sound was more deafening than the
wild pounding of my heart. My eyes darted about, searching for a way to escape my doom that lay
moments away, but the guards surrounding me like an impenetrable wall robbed me of that vain hope.
The relief of leaving the dungeon’s all-consuming darkness was immediate. I blinked in the
dazzling light and soaked in the warmth of the rising sun against my face along with a pleasant breeze,
a fresh relief from the pungent stench of the dungeon…but the tranquil moment vanished the moment
my eyes adjusted, bringing the awaiting gallows into view.
The sensation that consumed my thoughts was beyond fear; there were no words to describe the
terror eclipsing my mind along with a single phrase that sent sharp, icy horror to my limbs: I’m about
to die.
My steps faltered and my legs went limp, unable to willingly advance any closer to my doom. The
captain yanked me upright and gave me a hard shove, forcing me towards the steps that led up to the
noose. Panic pounded with every frantic beat of my heart. Already I could feel the scratchy rope
around my neck, the smothering sensation as my life slipped away…
No, don’t think about that. For the moment, you’re alive. Savor it.
We’d nearly crossed the courtyard, whose beauty was lost due to my suffocating terror but which
was thankfully abandoned save for the patrolling guards. At least I’d be granted the mercy of an
execution away from the jeers of the onlookers lacking any sympathy for my cruel fate.
Remember you deserve this. Every choice had a consequence, and my own had laid the path to
this moment stone by stone.
We paused at the base of the steps and I stared up at the noose swinging gently in the breeze,
unable to look away from the death that awaited me…when the captain took a sudden turn away from
the gallows. Puzzled, I followed, risking a single peek into his expression. He looked almost…smug,
as if he took great delight in frightening me.
For a moment, confusion reigned stronger than the fear that had previously eclipsed my every
sense, a puzzlement that deepened as we entered an unfamiliar section of the palace. The commander
led me down several abandoned corridors before stopping outside a door and knocking; the sound
echoed through the heavy stillness.
After a pause, an unfamiliar voice bid us to enter. The footman standing at attention opened the
door to reveal an immaculate study where an elderly man sat writing behind a desk.
The captain pushed me forward. “I’ve brought the prisoner, my lord.”
He didn’t look up at our entrance, merely waved us lazily inside. “Thank you, Captain.” He kept
his gaze riveted to his document, so he missed the captain’s bow before he backed from the room,
leaving me alone with the stranger.
I slowly took in the surrounding opulence, far different than the nothingness I’d expected to be
experiencing minutes after what was to be my execution. Perhaps bringing me here was nothing more
than a ploy to increase the anticipation for the dreaded event, a scenario that seemed far more likely
each minute that trickled by as the man continued to ignore me, heightening my uncertainty.
 He finally set his quill in the inkwell and looked up. He rested the tips of his clasped fingers on
his lips as he studied me with a thoughtful air before giving an approving nod.
“The report did not exaggerate. Despite your sojourn in the dungeon, I can see your potential. You
will do nicely.”
I wanted to ask what he meant, but the fear still clogging my throat made it impossible to speak.
The man slowly rose, granting me full view of his appearance—he possessed the elegance and
bearing of a noble, though his attire was more simple than the usual extravagance of the court;
whatever his position, he wasn’t a member of the royal family I abhorred.
A pensive crease furrowed his brow before his lips lifted in a wry smile. “I suspect you must be
very confused, considering you expected to be swinging from the gallows at this moment.”
I remained silent, but he didn’t seem to be awaiting a reply.
“I ordered the commander to take you through the courtyard on your way here so you could see
them. Let the experience serve as a reminder of your possible fate and make you more open to the
opportunity I’m about to present you.”
It took a moment for his words to register and for me to swallow my apprehension enough to
manage a raspy response. “My possible fate?”
“Indeed.”
The man retook his seat and motioned for me to sit in the one across from him, but my lingering
paralyzing terror made it impossible to move. Again he didn’t seem to notice or care.
“Do not misunderstand: you are still a criminal condemned to die, which is part of the reason you
were the one chosen. But because of the delicate nature of your task, you need an incentive to
motivate you to succeed, and for that reason the gallows are now only a possibility, one that will
become a surety if you fail to cooperate to the best of your ability.”
His words should have invited hope, but instead only dread twisted my stomach. What
opportunity could he possibly offer to a prisoner on death row? Whatever it was, it’d likely be a fate
no better than the one I’d just narrowly escaped.
“What’s your name, prisoner?”
He sought my help for whatever his mysterious purpose was yet hadn’t bothered to learn my
identity? Prisoners have no need for a name. The somber realization only confirmed that no matter
my circumstances, nothing could change who I was; I’d remain forever trapped in the chains that had
bound me within the dungeon. I ached to protest against the unfairness of my situation but was in no
position for rebellion.
He’d been monitoring my reaction and gave a nod, as if he’d sensed my thoughts and wanted to
confirm them. “It would be in your best interest to fully cooperate lest I change my mind about
selecting you, for there are others equally up to the task. Now tell me: what is your name?”
I briefly debated defying him either by refusing to answer or by giving him a pseudonym…but by
the calculating look in his eyes I realized he already knew my identity and that his asking was nothing
more than a test to see how easily I’d comply to his eventual demands.
With my current position standing before the man who held my fate in his hands, unfortunately,
defiance was not a prospective path.
I lifted my chin. “Blair.”
He eyed my stance with a look of approval. “You’re stubborn and defiant, as evidenced not only
by your posture but by that gleam in your eyes. Such traits will be both a hindrance to our plan and a
useful tool, a double-edged sword if you will. For your sake, you’d best wield it the way we
require.”
His words caused the careful walls guarding my emotions to falter. If he could sense it, there was
no use in hiding my resistance any longer. “You assume I’ll go along with a plan you have yet to
disclose even though I have yet to hear any reason why I should.”
“I’m confident in your cooperation, considering the will to live is stronger than even your
rebellious desires…but if I’m mistaken, I can summon the captain to return you to the gallows, if that
is your wish.”
I obediently snapped my mouth shut, earning me a dark smirk. I cringed, hating how pliable I’d
become in the enemy’s hands. How had I sunk so low?
He nodded. “Much better. Your spirit is admirable, but it can lead you to trouble if you’re not
careful. We’ll mold it to a more useful tool once you accept my terms…and you will, I have no doubt.
Now let us begin.” He straightened in his seat. “I’m Rupert, chief advisor to the king. I have consulted
with Their Majesties on the plan I’m about to present. First, I must determine your current
understanding of the situation you’re soon to navigate: have you heard about the false princess?”
It was a needless question. The news had shaken the kingdom to its core. I’d heard the whispers
and had used the resulting confusion to slip into the palace, an opportunity that had unfortunately led
to nothing except my subsequent capture and a death sentence.
If only everything hadn’t gone so terribly wrong.
Rupert’s words tugged me from my dark reminiscences. “You’re perhaps wondering at the
rumor’s validity—after all, the claim that the princess who’s stood beside Their Majesties all these
years being a fake is quite alarming—but I assure you it’s the truth, a secret so well kept that even I
was unaware our princess was a decoy.” His lips pursed in annoyance, his first exhibited emotion
other than contempt.
I frowned. “Why was a decoy necessary for such a length of time?”
“Because of the prophecy given at her birth that foretold her death by the hand of one of our
enemies, she was whisked away to safety, where she still remains, and a decoy was put in her place.
You have no need to know the details.” He sighed. “We believed the threat to be eliminated and thus
got rid of the fake princess in order to restore the real one to her proper place, but unfortunately we
acted too soon, as we’ve since discovered that the threat still remains. We have postponed bringing
the true one to court until we can find the assassin plotting to murder her…which is where you come
in.”
Apprehension pounded my heart as I finally realized the reason for my summons. “I’m to be the
new decoy.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise I’d caught on so quickly. “Indeed. The plan is to bring you in as the
supposed real princess in hopes of trapping the assassin.”
The truth settled over me, a weight almost heavier than my dread when I’d first learned of my
impending execution, for in the end this pronouncement wasn’t any different.
Accepting such a dangerous assignment would be like consuming poison, a process that would
kill me slowly—but kill me it would. The best way to uncover the assassin would be to serve as bait
and expose the threat, thus protecting the true princess even as it disposed of the one who’d die in her
place.
I set my jaw. “So I’m to die anyway.” Despite the illusion of a chance to live, death would come
for me at an unexpected time rather than the dreaded certainty of the noose that had awaited me at
dawn after a long night in the dungeon; in the end, there’d been no escape.
“Not necessarily.” He spoke with callous disregard for my life.
You are a condemned prisoner, I reluctantly reminded myself. Someone with your crimes is
easily expendable.
By his sinister gleam he knew it but had laid his trap well by presenting a possibility impossible
for me to ignore, for hope proved stronger, acting as a single pinprick of light midst my despair. He
allowed this feeling to settle over me for a time before he spoke again.
“Your life was over the moment you committed your crime. I have no regard for it, nor do Their
Majesties. However, luckily for you, we do regard the princess’s life, and because your cooperation
is invaluable, we are offering you an incentive to succeed. If you can uncover the assassin’s identity
before he acts, you will be granted a full pardon. If not…well, you’ll uncover him with a much more
dire price, but rest assured we’ll find him, one way or another.”
My suffocating despair pressed heavily against my chest even as the chance to live caused my
knees to buckle until I collapsed in the proffered seat, the movement rattling the chains still binding
me. No matter my hatred for the royal family or my frustration at being so ill used, I couldn’t escape
the most important truth: I don’t want to die.
Once more he seemed to sense my thoughts and used them as a tool to force me to do his bidding.
He lowered his voice to a chilling hiss. “Remember your feelings as you languished in the dungeon,
counted down your final hours, first glimpsed the gallows, and imagined the sensation of losing your
breath while having your life slowly stolen away, the dreaded feeling of being so close to death…”
He was taunting me in an effort to earn my compliance and thus rob me of my freedom…and
unfortunately, it was working exactly as he intended. Yet horrific as these thoughts were, the notion of
assisting the royal family I despised seemed a worse fate than even death. Despite this opportunity
offering the illusion of an escape, it was still a death sentence, one far more cruel than would come
from the agonizing minutes spent at the gallows.
Yet as much as I abhorred the royal family and loathed to assist them, in the end the will to live
was more persuasive than even the deepest hatred. And if I accepted, I would remain at the palace,
close to…my breath hooked at that realization, nourishment for the hope the advisor’s careful words
had already planted.
Would this second chance make it possible to succeed where I’d previously failed?
I found myself nodding in acceptance, sealing my doomed fate. I glared at his resulting smirk—
now that I knew my value, I need not comply without a fight—but he only chuckled, as if he viewed
me as nothing more than a stubborn child throwing a tantrum.
“Your spirit will only prove useful, further testament you possess the skills and cunning to
succeed in this assignment. Despite your life being worthless, we would prefer to uncover the
assassin without bloodshed, for the matter is a delicate one.”
“Why is that?” I didn’t personally care, but it was imperative I gather all the information I could.
His expression became grave. “Because according to the prophecy, the assassin is a royal.”
I gaped in disbelief. “What exactly did it say?”
“That’s not important.” His obvious dismissiveness only solidified my desire to uncover the
reason now that I had more time than I’d ever expected to receive hours earlier. “What matters is that
a fellow royal is plotting to murder the princess, which will result in a myriad of political
difficulties. Many royals from the surrounding kingdoms are due to arrive for a celebration being held
to greet the new princess. Make your way through the court and uncover their secrets before the
unknown threat strikes…and they definitely will with so great a motive.”
He didn’t need to explain further. As a subject of Estoria, I knew the situation well: the crown
princess was the sole heir to the throne of a kingdom smaller than those that bordered our land, giving
each surrounding kingdom motive to invade our country in order to claim the rare magic we
possessed. Without any other claimant to threaten the invaders’ own claims to the throne, upon the
princess’s death Estoria would easily fall to their scheming hands.
“Anyone from the other kingdoms is a suspect,” Sir Rupert continued. “In total, four princes are
due to arrive, along with several princesses and high-ranking members of the court, none of whom we
can easily dismiss as the threat we’re after, nor the likelihood that any of the royalty are working
together. If you hope to live, you will need to uncover every possibility.”
My mind whirled with the daunting task. With my limited experience, how would I ever uncover
the solution to such a complicated mystery before my borrowed time ran out?
Escape felt like the only option…yet I hesitated to leave until I’d accomplished the very mission
that had landed me in this predicament in the first place. But even these secret schemes weren’t safe,
for Sir Rupert’s smirk returned, darker than ever.
“We haven’t forgotten that you were captured within the palace. Because you refused to disclose
your purpose during your interrogation, the mystery only increases our suspicion. You will not remain
unguarded. Never forget that despite the great power the role you play grants, you are not a princess
—you’re a prisoner, the palace nothing more than your gilded cage that I assure you will be
impossible to escape.”
I set my jaw. That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try. I was under no delusion that I wouldn’t be
executed after the royal family had gotten their use from me, which left nothing to stop me from
risking it all and finding a way to acquire what I’d initially infiltrated the palace for.
The question remained whether I’d be able to locate it before the mysterious assassin found me…
or if he’d strike before I even had the chance.
CHAP T E R 2
 LUKE

T he world swayed as the sickening metallic scent assaulted my senses, the cloth mask over
my nose too thin a barrier to block it completely. I tried to breathe through my mouth with
long, even breaths, but it did little to dispel the memory of the crimson blood staining the ground,
bright even beneath the thin thread of moonlight that penetrated the cloudy night.
Don’t faint, don’t faint, don’t faint…
I silently chanted these words like a prayer as I frantically cast my mind upon anything else, but
the wave of dizziness threatening to pull me beneath the darkness of unconsciousness was impossible
to fully dispel. Bark scratched my palm as I groped for the nearest tree in an effort to keep upright.
Don’t faint.
I took another shaky gulp of air. With my rhythmic breaths and keeping my gaze averted from the
sight I least wanted to see, I managed to push through my aversion just enough to maintain a sliver of
composure.
My cousin and close friend, Malik, silently straightened from our prey and sheathed his stained
dagger. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? It need not be so complicated, Luke.”
In theory he was correct, but the gulf between book study and application had never felt so wide
as it did in this occupation forced upon me.
He awaited an answer, but speaking would only expose him to my precarious balance between my
fragile composure and a faint, so I merely nodded.
He stepped from the shadows that had dutifully shielded him as he’d expertly carried out the
horrible deed. His brows drew together as he studied the emotionless mask I’d been trained to
wear…yet no amount of practice could hide the turmoil he easily glimpsed raging in my eyes.
“I thought that this time…” His sigh swallowed the disappointment I’d do anything to avoid. “You
need to get it together. You’re running out of time.”
How well I knew that. The invisible hourglass measuring each rapidly dwindling day had been
causing me undue anxiety for years; soon there’d be no trickling sand remaining and I’d be forced to
face the moment I’d spent my entire life dreading.
He cast an indifferent glance towards our victim that even the shadows didn’t prevent me from
imagining the sight of in vivid detail. My stomach lurched, and it took considerable effort to suppress
my nausea.
“I did the deed, but perhaps you should be the one to—”
I hastened several steps back to increase my distance from the corpse. “No. Please.”
 He hesitated before reluctantly nodding. “Very well.” He started to turn back towards our target
but paused upon noticing my expression, evidence of my faltering composure. “You’re quite pale. Are
you alright? You’re not going to faint, are you?”
There was never a moment during these blasted missions I was ever alright. Lightheadedness
maintained its claim on my senses as my nails dug into the trunk supporting my body, still weighed
with the desire to succumb to the darkness lapping at my consciousness. “I…I’m not sure.”
His frown deepened. “Perhaps you should keep watch from over there.” He gestured in a
direction blessedly far from where our target had fallen. Keeping watch was entirely unnecessary for
this particular mission, but I gratefully accepted his created excuse to get me away from the place I
least wanted to be.
I hurried through the trees, my usually silent footsteps almost discernible due to my frantic need to
escape, yet in this moment I couldn’t make myself care about this falter in my superb stealth. I finally
arrived at a grove some distance away and collapsed onto my knees.
I yanked my cloth mask down and fought for each ragged breath, soaking in the scent of the earthy
night air…yet not even the thick scent of pine could dispel the lingering aroma of blood, nor the
knowledge that while I still breathed, our target never would again.
I clutched my stomach with a moan as I curled over and pressed my forehead against the damp
undergrowth. Don’t think about it. Just breathe in, breathe out. In, out. Don’t faint.
I silently repeated these words even as my nails dug into the soft earth in a vain attempt to ground
myself. I remained in this position until I detected Malik’s return, not through sound or sight but from
the familiarity of his presence, as my training as an assassin had made me expertly attuned to.
I instinctively stilled before uncurling from my vulnerable position and hastening to my feet just as
Malik emerged from the copse of pines. By his pity I knew my guise hadn’t fooled him; we were too
close for him not to sense the weakness I valiantly attempted to hide.
I took a wavering breath. “Is…is it done?” I stammered.
“There’s no trace that anyone was ever there, as if our target merely…disappeared.”
Horror prickled my skin, but I managed a shaky nod before warily eying his dagger. “And did you
—”
“Yes, all clean.” He unsheathed the knife and spun it between his fingers. The silvery moonlight
reflected off a spotless blade, allowing some of my tension from my rigid posture to ease. His keen
observation noticed and he frowned. “You really need to get over this, Luke.” His tone remained
patient despite my acting like a child.
I’d been trying with focused effort ever since the beginning of my training, for such a weakness
presented quite a difficulty in my field of work. Yet all my efforts to rid myself of it had amounted to
nothing, leaving me an utter failure despite my careful reputation.
“Did you get what we needed?” I fought to keep my voice even, only barely managing to by
concentrating on not thinking about how we’d acquired the necessary information.
Malik handed me a rolled-up piece of parchment, which I shakily accepted. Despite its small size
it felt unbearably heavy, considering it’d been bought with the worst price of all.
“Father will be pleased.”
Malik nodded. “Indeed. He’ll be proud of all you’ve accomplished.”
I snorted. “I’ve accomplished nothing.” Yet the lie we’d been perpetuating for years would
continue. Once again Malik’s skilled kill would be tallied as my own, giving me credit I didn’t
deserve and enhancing my fearsome reputation. He alone knew the truth: the heir to the most deadly
assassin name couldn’t lay claim to any of my missions. Instead, every success belonged to my
dearest friend, who from the beginning had borne my burden as a token of friendship I’d never
required compensation for. I didn’t deserve such loyalty, though I was infinitely grateful for it.
Though I was the heir to the most infamous assassin house in the surrounding kingdoms, I’d never
been able to kill a single soul. It was my greatest secret, one I’d take to my grave…if it didn’t destroy
me first. One day I wouldn’t be able to hide behind Malik’s skills, and then I’d be in trouble.
On impulse, I flexed my hand, feeling the shadow’s constant presence staining my skin. I might
have been able to deceive my father and everyone else beneath our assassin name, but the curse
wasn’t fooled. If I didn’t act soon, eventually it would claim what it had been promised centuries ago.
Its sinister tainting feeling vanished as Malik rested a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You
never give up. Thus I’m certain that one day you’ll be able to do it.”
Would I, though? Even if my aversions could finally leave me in peace, I’d lost years of practice.
Father had been giving me missions gradually escalating in difficulty under the assumption I was
growing in my strength. Though my assassin skills knew no bounds, they’d never been put to the test.
When the inevitable day came when I’d be forced to face one on my own, I feared it’d be well
beyond my capacity. Then all we’d built would crumble by my hand, and the fate my family had
fought for centuries to avoid would finally come upon us…and it would be all my fault.
I groaned and buried my forehead in my hands. “I’m going to destroy everything.”
“I’m certain you’ll be able to live up to your family legacy long before that happens.”
I yearned to believe Malik’s familiar affirmation. But though I knew he meant well, his
reassurances sounded less certain the longer they proved unfounded…especially with how rapidly my
time was slipping away.
Keeping his tone bright, Malik continued. “Even if you’re unable to perform the actual deed, at
least you’ve been able to pay attention to my techniques.”
I squeezed my eyes shut in shame, my silent admission that although in the beginning I’d made a
valiant effort to do just that, in the end I’d been forced to look away, unable to witness the moment
when life vanished from our victim’s eyes. Unfortunately, I could still imagine it all too well.
A heavy silence settled between us before Malik broke it with a sigh. “I see.” He considered a
moment. “Perhaps it’ll help not to think of them as people. Rather”—he paused as he tried to come up
with an appropriate word—”tools.”
“Tools?”
“It’s not that much of a stretch—their actions stole their humanity long ago. Now their only
purpose is to give us what we need before we administer the justice they deserve.”
This teaching had been instilled in me since the earliest days of my education. Deep down I didn’t
truly believe it, though like everything else I pretended I did. I wasn’t entirely certain whether Malik
did either. Perhaps he had convinced himself of the lie to make his path forward easier to traverse.
I’d do well to do the same if I had any hope of surviving the life fate had been unkind enough to force
upon me.
Keeping to the shadows, we began our long trek home. Tonight’s target had been stationed closer
than usual, only an hour away rather than the lengthy journey some missions required. I was grateful;
the sooner we returned, the sooner I could work to block out the events of the night, to bury them with
the countless others from my past I’d spent years trying and failing to completely forget.
 Distance allowed the nauseous fog to gradually fade from my thoughts, leaving only the deep
sense of shame that always followed each of my failures. “I truly thought I could do it this time.”
Indeed, I’d been certain of it the entire week leading up to our mission, but in hindsight those
emotions had been nothing more than an attempt to claim confidence that in reality I didn’t truly feel…
which meant deep down I’d known that once more I wouldn’t be able to follow through with the
duties expected of me.
Malik sighed. “I too hoped you’d be able to. You seemed so determined.”
My memory stretched back to earlier, when we’d first set out. Just enough light had filled the night
to easily track our target without being too much to dispel the darkness necessary to hide our
presence. The breeze had blown from the direction we traveled, further aiding our pursuit.
Confidence filled my every step towards our waiting prey. Surely such ideal conditions boded well
for me finally doing what I’d been born to do.
But then I’d seen him, and every reason about every benefit this man’s death would bring that I’d
been repeatedly reminding myself of vanished in an instant, leaving nothing but disgust that instantly
robbed me of my already weak confidence and with it every skill I’d spent a lifetime mastering.
The thought of his lifeless eyes and the resulting blood stained my thoughts. Tremors had
overcome me, making it impossible to hold my knife, let alone throw it. The hilt burned my skin, a
taunting reminder that the moment I used it, I’d become nothing more than a monster I abhorred.
I hesitated too long, requiring Malik to throw his weapon instead. The whoosh of the dagger and
the resulting sharp gasp of pain became consumed by our target’s fatal silence, the worst sound in the
world. The scent of blood had immediately followed.
With a revulsed shudder I tried to force the gruesome thoughts away in order to search the night
for any sign within the forest that someone might be following us, but unfortunately my haunting
memories weren’t so easily dispelled.
Malik cast me a sidelong glance. “You need to pay attention; enemies could be lurking anywhere.”
“I’m trying.” I sounded as tired as I felt. His scolding expression softened.
“I know, and when you’re not so…distracted, you’re the most skilled of us all.”
His underserved praise was nothing more than a lie; I was an imposter compared to Malik and the
other assassins I trained with, all of whom laid claim to the one thing I couldn’t.
These thoughts haunted me the entire journey and were only magnified when my towering estate
loomed through the trees, cast in a sheen of grey morning light as dawn finally pushed away the
horrible night. The moment we passed through the spidery black gates I wanted to lock myself in my
room, but the footman who greeted us immediately robbed me of these hopes.
“Welcome back, Lord Luke. His Grace wants a full report and to brief you on your next mission.”
Another mission? Already? I hadn’t even had a chance to recover from the last one; I was still
trying to scrub away the blood staining my memories.
Only years of training effectively maintained control over my emotions, a task far easier now than
it’d been beneath the covert cover of darkness. I kept my face impassive as I obediently nodded. The
moment the footman was out of earshot, I turned my silent pleading onto my friend.
His hesitation was only brief. “Whatever his task, I will accompany you if His Grace doesn’t also
have a mission for me.”
Some of my suffocating anxiety slightly eased. “Thank you, Malik.”
With a final pat on my shoulder he departed, leaving me alone in the grand entranceway, where I
remained for several minutes, pretending to be idly admiring the artwork adorning the walls lest any
passerby wander by, when in reality I was struggling to maintain my fragile composure.
I managed to seize hold of it by the thinnest thread, which felt on the brink of breaking once I set
out for my dreaded destination. With every step, the shadows filling the corridors seemed to mock
me, a taunting reminder I was an imposter to our family name.
Excited footsteps suddenly sounded behind me. “You’re home!” That cheerful voice was the only
thing powerful enough to deviate my course from my father and his demand of exact obedience.
I turned in time to catch my younger sister, Laila, as she flung herself at me with her usual joyous
exuberance. Her bright smile alone was enough to chase away the lingering shadows haunting my
thoughts and the bloodstained memories from the night.
Her arms came up around my neck for an affectionate squeeze and I held her close. Her warmth fit
so comfortably in my arms, offering the only light in the endless night that consumed my life.
She allowed my show of affection, but not for long. “Not so tight.” She wriggled about in an effort
to break free, and I reluctantly released her.
I gently set her down. “I’m just happy to see you. You know I love you, don’t you?” I reminded
her constantly so that she’d always remember in the moments of doubt I knew would inevitably come
once I could no longer escape my dreaded future.
She nodded. “I love you too. I missed you.”
I crouched in front of her so we were eye level. “I’ve missed you too. Have you been well while
I’ve been away?”
She nodded eagerly. “I’ve done lots of fun things, but I wish I could have done them with you.
What were you doing?”
Aiding in a murder. But I could never confess the words. My greatest fear wasn’t blood but that
my dear sister would hate me once she learned the truth about who I was. I’d only delayed the
inevitable this long because Malik had been making the kills meant to be mine, but I was rapidly
running out of dawns I could return from a mission and still face my sister. The moment I sold my
soul, I’d be forced to part from her so that I would never stain her innocent world.
I’d give anything not to cast her bright world in shadow, but the curse required the allegiance of
one member of our family every generation. If I didn’t sacrifice myself, then dear Laila would be the
one forced to succumb to its sinister whims.
How ironic that something as pure as love would be what ultimately forced me down the curse’s
path of darkness. Since I couldn’t escape this fate, my only purpose was to keep it from her; it’d
destroy her to be thrust into this cursed and bloody world…which meant I had to be the one to give up
my soul so she could remain forever free.
Even without having forged a contract with her, the shadows lurked far too close, as if waiting for
the first opportunity to rob her of her light. Oblivious to their presence, only sunshine filled Laila’s
gaze as it eagerly met mine.
“I promised my dolls a tea party. Will you play with me?”
I stroked her head. “Of course. I’ll give you all the time I have before my next mission.”
She pouted. “Are you leaving on another one already?”
“I expect Father will have another one for me shortly. I’m going to see him now.” Dread knotted
my stomach, but I forced a smile so she wouldn’t sense my unease.
“I wish I could go so I could spend more time with you.” In her innocence she believed I was her
heroic brother who frequently went on grand adventures…a lie I encouraged through the made-up
stories I told her every time I returned home.
Horror cinched my stomach at the thought of her accompanying me. I’d rather die than allow that.
Seeing my distress, she immediately set out doing what she did best: cheering me up. “Your hug
almost crushed the flowers I picked for you to welcome you home…and to remember me when you go
away again.” Joyous anticipation brightened her dimpled smile as she extended a handful of daisies
she’d picked from our vast gardens, already starting to wilt. The petals seemed so dainty and
breakable…just like her.
It was our usual ritual for her to give me the flowers she’d picked so that I would think of her.
Though nothing would ever compel me to forget her, I kept each of these as well as the notes she had
the habit of writing me. They were my greatest treasures.
I reached for the flowers, but before I could accept them my imagination distorted them so that
their pure petals suddenly dripped with crimson, as if my tainted touch alone had been enough to stain
its dainty white with blood. Instinctively I yanked my hand away.
“Don’t you want them?” Her wide, glassy eyes seeped into my heart.
I shook my head to push away the uncomfortable feeling and forced a soft smile. “Of course I do.
Thank you for picking them for me.” I accepted her gift along with the bright smile that accompanied
it and pressed a soft kiss to her brow. “Now run along. I’ll come play with you as soon as I finish
business with Father.”
“I’ll be waiting!” With an eager wave she turned and skipped down the hallway with a melodic
hum. I wasn’t the only one watching her as she disappeared—I sensed the curse’s lurking presence,
its temptation to reach out and claim the only light left within these tainted walls.
Don’t you dare touch her. It was the usual warning I gave the shadows skirting nearby, staring
after my sister with their sinister hunger. Although for the time being they obeyed, unless I devoted
myself to them they’d have no reason to heed my desperate orders forever.
It was nearly impossible to resume my trek to Father’s study after basking in my darling sister’s
usual sunshine. Upon arriving, I hesitated outside before mustering enough courage to shakily knock
on the door. My heart pounded wildly as I waited, as if bracing myself to face an armed enemy rather
than my own father…though in truth the two weren’t much different.
His cold voice beckoned me forward. “Enter.”
With a wavering breath I obeyed and entered to give my dreaded report that, like all the others
before it, was nothing more than a lie. As usual, I did my best to hide my true feelings from the master
of discovery himself, the most skilled inheritor to the Shadow name in generations—an assassin
who’d become hardened against all emotion and obsessed with duty ever since Mother had left us, the
cost of our curse and all the darkness that accompanied it.
Wordlessly, I handed him the item from our dead target like a cat might present a mouse to his
master. Father lazily unrolled it to peruse its contents and I waited with bated breath, trying not to
fidget. After some time he nodded and lowered the parchment. “Exactly what we needed. Excellent
work, Luke.”
I slowly released a quiet breath, subtle enough that it didn’t alter the assassin persona I’d spent
years mastering. I bowed. “I’m glad you’re pleased, Father.”
“As I always am when you impeccably fulfill your duties as ordered. Did he give you any
trouble?”
 Our target’s sharp intake of pain as his final breath was forcibly seized echoed in my ears, but I
forced myself to smirk. “One shot, as you taught me.”
His own leer was menacing. “Excellent. You’ve been well trained and will make a fine heir to the
Shadow name.”
I greedily accepted his undeserved praise, which only tightened the constant guilt cinching my
heart. I wanted him to be proud of me, even as I remained unwilling to do what it took.
My fingernails dug into my palms as I clenched my fists. “Thank you, Father. I want nothing more
than to please you.”
Liar.
He leaned lazily back in his seat. “I’ve been monitoring you closely these past several years, and
I believe the time has come for you to finally venture from your practice missions to your first real
assignment, one far grander than the paltry kills you’ve done until now.”
Bile rose in my throat. Paltry? But contrary to what I felt, I offered another weak smirk, as he
expected. “Though simple, they’ve been amusing nonetheless, though I’d certainly welcome a greater
challenge.”
I ached to snatch back the condemning words, but doing so would be pointless. Nothing could
persuade Father once he’d made up his mind, so I could at least appease him and amuse myself with
my carefully woven lies.
When I wasn’t forced to embark on actual missions, I found what enjoyment I could from the
assassin game and had become quite a master at playing it. Masters of illusion made for effective
assassins, even when the image I created went entirely against my true self. Only when the stakes I
dreaded became entangled with the play did it lose all amusement; death wasn’t a game, but
something horrific and final.
If I was to succeed in my role, my first kill would have to be the conscience that had no place
amongst my murderous duties. Yet for years I’d feared that when the time came for me to finally
inherit my family’s mantle, my aversions would serve as an impenetrable obstacle.
But far too soon, the time had come to finally put my devotion to the test. I took a carefully
measured breath. “What’s the mission?”
He leaned further back and propped his leg up onto the desk. “You’ll receive a more detailed
brief in the days to follow, but for now I will inform you that word has come that Crown Princess
Evelyn of Estoria was a decoy. The shadows have finally declared the time has come to kill the true
princess now that she’s been restored to the throne…and you already know the reason why we have
particular interest in her life.”
Just hearing that name caused me to tense. “I understand. The resulting confusion will present us
with the best opportunity to finally put our plan many years in the making into motion.”
He nodded. “Indeed.”
“And you want me to be tasked with so great a responsibility?” One that felt like nothing but the
heaviest burden.
“Naturally. You’ve earned it.”
In truth I’d always known I was too soft for my role, let alone one so grand as this. Unfortunately,
I was left without a choice: the crown princess of Estoria must die, else my family would finally
succumb to the curse placed upon us so long ago.
Every part of me ached to reject the mission, especially since I wouldn’t be able to rely on
Malik’s help, forcing me to stand on my own. But the only excuse adequate to escape was the true
reason why my skills weren’t up to my assigned task.
It’d been easy to fabricate my reputation—whenever Malik hadn’t been with me, I’d been able to
come up with clever workarounds to create the illusion of success when in reality I’d failed every
mission given to me thus far. In that moment I regretted the lie I’d carefully crafted by claiming
successes that weren’t mine, all to build up an image that had led me to an assignment where it’d be
impossible to hide my lack of skills. Which meant the time had finally come when I’d be forced to
either face my fears or accept my failure.
I unconsciously flexed my hand. As if attuned to my thoughts, the shadow curse that had been a
part of me since being born into this accursed family tingled my skin, as painful as the many poisons
I’d spent my entire life building up immunity to…but the only antidote for this one was blood spilt by
my own cursed hand.
I knew it was imperative I fulfill my assassin duty before the appointed time dictated by our
family’s curse. Only by accepting this mission would I finally receive the opportunity I’d spent years
longing for, finally granting me access to the one thing in the Estorian palace that magic had
previously barred me from. If I had any hope of altering my dreaded fate, I needed to do the very thing
fear had caused me to avoid: stain my hands with murder.
Even with so persuasive a motive my stomach still coiled, all while sense’s whispers fought to
seduce me: She’s just one life, revenge for her family’s actions against yours all those centuries
ago. What’s one life in exchange for the precious freedom you seek for the generations to come?
My thumb caressed the petal of Laila’s daisy, a reminder of who I was protecting that I hoped
would provide me with the strength I needed to face what was to come. With these persuasions, I
found myself bowing in acquiescence I didn’t want to give. “I shall return once I’ve achieved the
death of the true crown princess of Estoria.”
The words were poison on my tongue, even as the mission brought with it a much-needed sense of
hope. Could I truly fulfill it, especially when unlike many of my past targets, this one had done nothing
to deserve such a horrific fate?
I forced myself to bury these reservations like I had all the others that had fought to sway me over
the years from my destined course in order to become the hardened assassin expected of me. If I
listened to my conscience, I wouldn’t be able to do what was necessary…and I needed to, for the
sake of all I held dear.
Could I truly fulfill the difficult mission every assassin in the preceding generations had all
failed? Most importantly, would I be able to murder the innocent princess when the time came to save
my family, even at the cost of my soul?
CHAP T E R 3
 BLAIR

A fter summoning the captain of the guard to unlock the chains binding me and bring me a change
of clothes, Sir Rupert led me through the immaculate palace hallways to a bedroom—a much
more comfortable cell than the dank dungeon where I’d previously languished—where I’d be staying
the duration of this sentence. A gilded cage, though it remained a prison nonetheless. My first task
would be to find a way out.
I listened with only partial attention to the advisor’s briefing and kept the remainder of my focus
on studying the palace’s layout, my spy senses already at work for my personal mission I was still
determined to accomplish. My survival depended on my success, one that felt far out of reach with my
previous failure still haunting my memory.
No matter what, I would not fail again.
Sir Rupert eventually paused outside a door. “The princess’s room?” I was already gauging the
thick wooden door to determine how easy it’d be to break down. It appeared annoyingly sturdy.
At my inquiry his eyes darted about, as if fearing potential eavesdroppers lurking within the
shadows…and with the threats against the princess, there very well could be. He lowered his voice.
“Do not speak so casually of the princess. For all intents and purposes, you are her.”
He opened the door and stepped aside to let me pass, a show of deference he undoubtedly loathed
bestowing upon me. Upon entering I was immediately greeted with a room of soft blue elegance and
gilded accents, with finely crafted furnishings beyond what even my family could have afforded
during the days of our nobility, yet too simple to befit the heir to the Estorian throne.
“I expected greater extravagance for a room belonging to a princess.” Not to mention its absence
of any personal effects to have belonged to the former decoy…unless all evidence of her existence
had already been stripped away.
“Well discerned.” Despite the compliment, the advisor didn’t sound even begrudgingly
impressed. “We would never taint the true princess’s bedroom with the presence of a criminal. Let
this room’s simplicity serve as a reminder of your true place here—though you’re posing as a royal,
you are far from one in actuality.”
Good riddance for that. He clearly meant to intimidate me, but in truth this demeaning gesture was
a fortuitous turn of events, considering the real princess’s bedroom likely posed tighter security that
would be trickier for me to navigate. For now the submissiveness he expected would be the best
course, so despite the aversion prickling my skin at having to show such humility to the likes of him, I
gave him what he wanted.
 I lowered my eyes. “I understand.”
He seemed satisfied by the demeaning display. “Your own noble background will work in our
favor. Nevertheless, you will still receive additional training in order to create a more effective
performance. Until then, you’ll be locked inside until we have need of you; it won’t do for you to be
caught wandering in places you don’t belong.”
The memory returned of tiptoeing through the shadows in the dead of night nearing my goal, the
sting from my failure that followed before I hastily pushed it away. During my sojourn within the
dungeon I’d already studied my failed mission to the point of obsession, agonizing over every detail
of what I could have possibly done differently. No good would come from further torturing myself
over my past.
“You will not be needed today,” the advisor continued. “But tomorrow you’ll be expected to make
your first appearance. Be ready.”
Without a backwards glance he left, a departure immediately followed by the click of the lock. I
rolled my eyes. Locks were child’s play for someone with my skills, for etiquette wasn’t the only
thing my past had made me well versed in. While the lock on my dungeon cell had proven an
impenetrable challenge, this one wouldn’t prevent me from exploring to my heart’s content.
I pressed my ear against the door. Through the thick wood I detected the presence of attending
guards, two by my estimations. Highly trained guards posed much more of an obstacle; it’d be
suicidal to demonstrate my skills in disarming them so early in this twisted game, not to mention I
currently lacked the means of doing so.
Thankfully there were other ways out of a room other than through a door, though such exploits
were best conducted beneath the shield of darkness. I settled in the window seat to wait out the hours
until night. Unlike my previous days filled with fear measuring each breath, this one passed much
more peacefully.
Though the room was far more spacious than my dungeon cell, the walls still closed in on me.
Feeling claustrophobic, I hurried to the window and tried to open it. Locked. Thankfully, it opened
relatively easily after a few minutes of frantic work with some hairpins I found at the dressing table
where my assigned lady-in-waiting would prepare me for my first appearance as the princess.
The cool evening breeze washed over my senses, and for a tranquil moment I forgot my purpose
in sneaking out and allowed myself to savor the wind’s soft caress and the scent of pine carried from
the trees enclosing the palace grounds.
I took a deep breath, keeping my hand pressed against my heart to feel each steady pulse. I was
alive. Though the threat of the executioner’s ax loomed over me, there remained a glimmer of hope…
one nearly smothered by the lingering terror from my near execution. I could still feel the shadowy
sensation of the noose draped around my neck with such vivid imaginings as to almost feel like a
memory, my fate should this doomed scheme go awry…if the mysterious assassin didn’t take me out
first.
The absence of my usual faithful blade against my thigh felt more exaggerated midst this looming
danger. It’d been confiscated upon my capture, leaving me nothing with which to defend myself. I’d
need to locate another weapon as soon as possible.
I didn’t expect to find anything within the surrounding elegance devoid of anything even remotely
useful to my plight, but with nothing else to do, I searched anyway. Nothing. I pressed my thumb to my
lip in silent consideration as I studied the mental map I’d created of the palace, not from the advisor’s
brief tour but prior to when I’d first infiltrated it. If I remembered correctly, there was an armory on
one of the lower floors near the dungeon; it was my best hope of acquiring what I sought.
My sojourn in the dungeon had only reminded me how precious a commodity time was. The
moment dusk arrived, I made my move. I leapt lightly onto the windowsill and studied the footholds
illuminated by the faint dusk in order to gauge the best route for my climb. To the untrained eye there
was little to work with, but years of practice had made me an expert at finding the perfect grooves to
scale any wall, even in a dress.
Even without the fading light, my window faced the back of the palace grounds, which would
keep me out of sight of the attending guards. My long afternoon studying their patrols from my
window had informed me that one wouldn’t come by for another four minutes, plenty of time for me to
reach my intended destination.
I traced an invisible path in my mind before beginning to climb. Even with the pain lacing my
still-raw wrists, I scaled the wall in no time. I climbed silently onto the roof, where I remained
crouched to more easily blend with the shadows rather than give myself away as an obvious
silhouette against the sky now blanketed with velvety night. I crept silently along the slates but hadn’t
gotten very far when—
My breath caught as I squinted ahead. Was that…but no, it couldn’t be anything more than a trick
of the thin moonlight, because it almost looked as if there was a person just up ahead, crouching low
enough against the roof to melt into the shadows.
Dread coiled around my limbs, rendering me frozen. I could only think of one person who’d be on
the palace roof: the assassin. What ill timing to discover my quandary when I had nothing with which
to defend myself. I had some skill in weaponless combat, but my abilities were mediocre at best;
even with a weapon, I doubted my defenses could adequately stand against someone highly trained in
combat.
Thankfully stealth was another tool in my arsenal, though it seemed unwise to employ it under
such circumstances. The old Blair might have taken her chances in sneaking past her assailant, but
death’s lingering memory compelled me to hesitate.
I remained motionless in my crouched position, waiting for the intruder’s next move. He was so
still I might have questioned whether it was actually a person or merely a decorative statue if I hadn’t
sensed his presence stretching across the distance dividing us…which meant that unless he was an
amateur, he’d detected mine just as easily.
I kept my gaze riveted to him for several endless minutes…before suddenly, in the time it took me
to blink, he vanished. I startled.
What?
I’d barely registered my shock when a sinister presence engulfed me from behind. I tensed and
nearly lost my precarious balance as I swiveled around…and was greeted by a looming dark
silhouette of a man shrouded entirely in black, the lower part of his face covered with a cloth mask.
His eyes and hair were dark beneath the night, making it impossible for me to discern their true color.
“I wondered whether you’d detect my presence. It appears tonight’s opponent at least possesses
some skill, which should make things more interesting.”
His deep, smooth voice contained a bite of mocking. I tightened my jaw at his aggravating toying
and immediately reached for my trusty blade at my thigh…before remembering I didn’t have it.
Curses!
 I frantically felt around the roof for a loose slate to use in defense, all while keeping my attention
riveted to the silhouette, afraid to even blink considering that was when he’d disappeared the first
time. There was no time for me to puzzle out how the man had managed to cross such a vast distance
in an instant without my noticing…unless there were two intruders?
The temptation to search the shadows behind me prickled even as I refused to shift my focus from
the man before me. I sensed his smirk through his mask, his amusement at my dilemma. I swept my leg
beneath his body in hopes of tripping him and creating a chance to make my escape, but I’d barely
moved when a graceful flip landed him behind me.
“That isn’t the polite way to engage in an introduction.”
I glared. “What do you want from me?”
“The very thing I’m sure you desire: an explanation. I’ve traversed many rooftops, but this is the
first time I’ve ever met anyone without prior arrangement.”
He crouched on his heels to better study me. I yearned to flinch away from the force of his
perusal, one that felt invasive as it slithered in search of my secrets.
His eyes bulged. “I never expected to discover a lady in such a place. This is an intriguing turn of
events, one well worth the distraction. Who are you?”
The man was daft if he believed a single inquiry would compel me to reveal my identity…but by
the amusement in his eyes, he didn’t seem to take his own question seriously.
“It’s clear who you are, assassin.”
He bowed. “Not just any assassin.” But he didn’t elaborate any further, which was quite
unfortunate considering I was well versed in most of the prominent assassin houses and would have
likely recognized his title. “Do I have the pleasure of addressing an assassin in return?” At my
prolonged silence he tilted his head. “Not even a single hint? You guard your secrets well.”
“Guarding one’s identity is the most effective defense.” Especially against a man who very well
might be the assassin after me.
“And you’re clearly in need of some advantage.”
Frustration tightened my jaw. I needed a real means of defending myself. I ran my gaze across his
outfit, tight enough to emphasize his muscles but not enough to reveal any concealed weapons.
Apparently he wasn’t amateur enough to hide them in an obvious place. Quite unfortunate.
A blade glistened in the moonlight as he pulled out a hidden dagger and waved it tauntingly. “Is
this what you’re looking for?”
I lunged for it, but he easily leapt out of the way with another aerial flip that landed him on my
other side.
“Even a partial introduction doesn’t give you leave to steal from me. Feisty thing.” He rested his
chin in his hand to study my defensive stance. “You appear well-trained in the art of stealth and some
defense, as evidenced by that leg sweep you attempted. Even without taking into account we’re
meeting on a roof, you’re definitely no ordinary person. What is your mission at the palace?”
“Perhaps I find myself lost.” It was a poor excuse for my presence in such a obscure place, but
surely a defense of words was better than none at all.
He chuckled. “Though I may be an assassin, I’m still a gentleman. If you provide your intended
destination, I can point you in the right direction; it must be quite the place for you not wanting to risk
detection within the palace corridors. Are you after the crown jewels, perhaps?”
“Whether I am or not, my secrets are my own.”
 “Wrong: secrets are meant to be uncovered, and your determination to protect them is nothing
more than a proffered invitation.”
“Then you must determine which you covet more: answers or my life.” I evenly met his gaze.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“I could…but as fun as our interaction is, it’s proving to be an unnecessary distraction from my
own purpose.” He sheathed his weapon and straightened. “Perhaps we’ll encounter one another the
next time we scale the roof…or we’ll meet not cloaked beneath shadow but within the palace, and
then I’ll finally have the name I seek.”
Foreboding quickened my pulse. Without a mask I had no way to protect my identity. If this was
the man I sought, the moment he discovered the role I masqueraded, I’d become his target. And if he
wasn’t, I needed to discover his reason for traipsing the roof and whether it was for another target or
a deeper plan than just eliminating the princess.
It appeared I’d made my first enemy, which made it all the more imperative I get my hands on a
weapon at all costs.
“Aggravating confidence doesn’t guarantee you possess the skill to discover who I am.” I
attempted to sound brave but my voice faltered, betraying me.
He raised a single brow. “A challenge. Perhaps we can play a game: will you discover my
identity before I’ve uncovered yours, or will you pay for your failure with your life?”
“I doubt I’m your true target.”
He studied me for a silent moment, likely uncovering far more than I wanted to share; information
was power, and so far he possessed all the cards.
“For now. For your sake you’d best hope it remains that way. Now I must bid you good night, for
though you claim to be lost, I know exactly where I need to be. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.” With
that, he seemed to melt into the night, as if the shadows themselves had swallowed him up.
Though I immediately felt his absence, I remained unconvinced he was truly gone. I waited,
searching every sound, movement, and sensation filling the darkness. When I was certain he’d truly
left, I resumed my journey towards my destination. The interaction with the assassin had cost me time,
though the lost minutes were easy to make up considering I still retained my life.
Based on my mental map, I estimated the best place to slip back inside the palace, and then it was
a simple trick of navigating the corridors. Each step heightened the memory of the last time I’d snuck
through these hallways, but unlike that doomed night, this time I wouldn’t fail.
I spotted the room I sought just up ahead, unguarded. My excitement at my good fortune vanished
the moment I noticed the lock—glittery light surrounded the keyhole, a protective charm I’d seen
many times but had never learned how to breach.
I supposed it was too much to hope that the royal weapons wouldn’t be guarded by a lock that
was nearly impossible to break, for the magic protecting it not only required a specific key but would
immediately alert the guards that someone was attempting to infiltrate the room.
As far as I knew, only those possessing the royal blood required to wield the kingdom’s magic
could open it. Such a lock undoubtedly also guarded other doors within the palace, the most efficient
protection for the royal family’s secrets and treasures…a seemingly impenetrable obstacle that would
require great ingenuity for me to overcome.
Blast it all.
I firmly tucked away the discouragement weighing upon me and went to work studying the lock,
but I hadn’t been attempting to decipher the riddle long when a voice slithered from the shadows. “I
confess I never expected your mysterious destination to be the royal armory, but considering you lack
a weapon, perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised.”
I startled at the deep voice and spun around. For a moment I saw no one…though I sensed his
already familiar dreaded presence. It took me far too many precious seconds in which he could have
killed me half a dozen ways before I finally detected him, blending so seamlessly into the shadows as
to almost render him invisible.
I wasted more time staring in blatant disbelief, fighting to keep my expression impassive so he
wouldn’t discern how unsettled he’d left me; I wouldn’t give him such satisfaction when he already
possessed the upper hand. It took some time midst my shock to uncover my lost voice. “Did you
follow me?”
That was truly a terrifying thought. It was one thing to know I was being stalked and quite another
to be taken completely by surprise. I’d checked several times and had been certain I remained
alone…which meant he’d tracked me with such precision I had no hopes of noticing him.
He fully emerged into the pools cast by the flickering torchlight, his gaze riveted to me. “I’ve
never pursued such an interesting target—not only are you mischievous, but you’re quite beautiful.”
Too late I remembered that the illuminating candlelight robbed me of any chance of anonymity the
next time we met. I gritted my teeth in frustration over my own carelessness. “You cheated.”
He chuckled. “On the contrary; you failed to mask yourself from the light.”
He was right, and oh how I hated it. One would think I’d have been more careful with the
precious life I’d been granted, but in my eagerness to pursue my goal, I’d already gambled away my
best protection.
Curses.
He leaned against the wall, arms folded in a picture of ease. “It appears you’ve found your
destination well enough, but I suppose you didn’t account for such an obstacle. Perhaps you’re in
need of assistance?”
“From who, you? No one can get past such a lock.”
“For every absolute, there’s always an exception for exceptional assassins.” He wriggled his
eyebrows.
I rolled my eyes. “And you consider yourself of such a prestigious caliber?”
“Challenge accepted.” He crouched to examine the lock barring me from what I desired. “An
enchanted lock. Fascinating.”
He didn’t sound the least bit discouraged, which caused my hope to rise against my better
judgment. “Do you truly know how to get past it?” It was a gamble whether he’d actually tell me,
though it didn’t hurt to place my bet on his inflated ego.
“Close your eyes and allow the master to work.”
Rather than obey, I folded my arms with a wry look. “You must think me a fool to place myself in
such a vulnerable position in the presence of an enemy.”
Rather than being offended he simply nodded in approval, as if I’d just imparted great wisdom. “It
appears you’re not entirely without sense. I suppose I’ll have to protect one of my many valuable
tricks of the trade another way.”
He masked the lock with his body, blocking my view. I tried to crane my neck to better see but
couldn’t manage it. Frustrated, I hit his back with my fists—the only defense I currently had—but his
firm muscles hurt my hand more than I apparently hurt him.
Bemusement filled his backwards glance. “Did you actually think that would work?”
I released a frustrated breath. “It was worth a try.”
He laughed quietly before returning to the lock. I watched him work with a steady glare. The man
was surely bluffing his claims to be able to breach it, for magical locks were impossible to—
The click of the unlocked door echoed through the night. I was too stunned to even attempt to force
a façade of indifference.
“How did you—” Confusion robbed me of the remainder of my words.
The air tingled with his aggravating triumph. “Impeccable skill.”
How vexing that his boasting so far proved justified. My foreboding grew. Even if I finally
located a weapon, if this man was after me, it’d be a fight I’d surely lose considering his abilities
appeared well beyond my own.
Just who was he?
He held up a single finger, as if to bid me to wait, before slipping into the armory. He wasn’t gone
long before he returned.
“Is this what you seek?” He held up a medium-sized dagger encrusted with sapphires, similar to
mine that had been confiscated. Wait, not similar; it was my weapon. But…how had he known? My
annoyance twisted into icy terror. “How—”
His brows furrowed as his gaze lowered to the blade and comprehension dawned; only his blatant
astonishment discounted my ridiculous theory that the man could actually read minds. “Is this really
yours?”
I wanted to lie with a clever quip, but instead I could only stare. Seeing my precious dagger again
beckoned one of my favorite reminisces of when Zeke had given it to me, my first gift after our
parents’ unjust executions had cast our unwanted presence onto our cruel relatives. I’d never
imagined I’d ever again own something so fine. In the end the real gift hadn’t been the dagger itself
but the long hours spent in my brother’s company as he patiently taught me how to wield it, cherished
memories still vivid even with the passage of time and worth far more than our family’s confiscated
treasure.
My fingers itched to grab it from this assassin’s thieving hands, as if by seizing it I could
recapture that lost moment from the grave where my dear brother now rested…a subtle movement the
assassin’s observation effortlessly detected.
“It is yours, which means it was confiscated at some point. The mystery surrounding you only
deepens.” He waved it tauntingly. “Would you like it back?”
Yearning to have it in my possession again almost compelled me to disregard sense and reach for
it…but such a decision was based on impulse, not the sense required for this dangerous game of
strategy with this formidable opponent.
His breaching a seemingly enchanted lock presented me with another problem apart from being in
the presence of the most odious man alive without a means to defend myself. I cast an uncertain
glance down the shadowy corridor. “The lock is enchanted to summon the guards.”
He shrugged. “I can handle them, though the question remains whether you can.”
I might be able to with my dagger, though in truth I definitely shouldn’t be fighting a guard when I
was supposedly the princess. “The guards would respect me as their princess and never attack me.”
He tauntingly played with the blade between his fingers. “Even so, I can sense how desperately
you want this. I’m curious whether your training extended to snatching something of value from your
opponent. Shall we experiment?”
I instinctively reached for it…only for him to immediately hold it out of reach, his movements so
quick they were impossible to follow—one moment he was in front of me, the next he’d ended up
behind me. I spun around, eyes bulging. I’d never met any man like him…which only made him all the
more dangerous.
I expected another round of his silent gloating, but his expression suddenly darkened as his gaze
flickered to the wrist of the hand I’d reached out with. Even in the faint light it was impossible to hide
the raw skin worn away from the chains that had previously bound me.
In an instant he’d bridged the distance separating us to gingerly lift my arm eye level. For a long
moment he didn’t speak, his breaths ragged as he stared at my red skin. “What happened?”
Whether this was an uncharacteristic show of concern or mere curiosity, my time within the
dungeon was one secret I could never divulge, least of all to him. With a glare I yanked away from his
surprisingly gentle grip. “I told you before that my secrets are my own.”
A shadow settled across him and a tense silence passed between us before he finally spoke. “Not
all secrets are worth protecting.” He said nothing more, but his gravity lingered. “If you no longer
want to play this particular game, I suppose there’s no harm in gifting this to you.” He extended the
dagger, a gesture obviously given in pity.
“You have no motive to help me.”
“The thought of a woman prowling the roof in her quest to find a weapon intrigues me, especially
when I have reason to wonder if your need for it is more dire than I initially suspected.”
His gaze returned to my wrists, and too late I hid them behind my back. The concern I thought I’d
glimpsed vanished in an instant, replaced with his usual confidence I’d long since grown tired of.
“Arming you won’t provide me any inconvenience; I’m confident that I possess greater skill with
the blade against any armed opponent.”
Including me, apparently. I lifted my chin. “You might be surprised.”
“Then perhaps a demonstration is in order…but another time.” Once more he extended the dagger,
hilt facing me in invitation. “When that time comes, you’ll owe me a favor.”
Aversion prickled my skin. The last thing I wanted was to be in debt to such an odious man.
“Never.”
He shrugged. “I suppose I could use another dagger. If you manage to unmask me the next time we
meet, then I’ll allow you to claim your prize with no strings attached.” He tucked it away and, in an
instant, the shadows swallowed him up, leaving me entirely alone.
I glared at the spot where he’d disappeared as the gravity of my situation settled around me. A
looming death sentence, an assassin involving me in his dangerous game, a magical lock barring me
from the object of my quest, and no weapon to speak of. My first night of borrowed time and already
my chances of survival appeared far too slim.
But at least I’d discovered my first target to investigate…if I could but unmask him.
 CHAP T E R 4

D reams filled with shadows and masked men consumed my restless sleep until I finally awoke
with the dawn, where I wasted no opportunity in sneaking out the window to the royal
armory in hopes of discovering a way to enter it that the darkness might have hidden; after all, that
assassin had found a way past the enchanted lock.
But no matter how long I studied it, the golden daylight didn’t illuminate any hints, keeping the
room stubbornly inaccessible and me still weaponless. I heaved a frustrated sigh. Perhaps I should
have humbled myself and accepted the dagger the assassin offered, even though doing so would have
been to admit defeat.
Better to swallow your pride than to end up dead because you couldn’t adequately defend
yourself against the unknown enemy. Especially when the anonymity that had been my greatest
protection had been stripped away, leaving me entirely defenseless the next time we met.
I silently cursed myself for my pride, awareness of which had come too late considering I had
mere hours before I was to meet the members of the court who’d been invited to greet the “new
princess,” amongst whom was the mastermind to unmask. While I possessed some training, I was no
expert in deduction, making the assignment seem impossible.
The task felt even more daunting considering I currently only had a single suspect, who seemed
too obvious to be the culprit. The trying events of my past made me doubt I’d suddenly discovered
enough elusive luck to encounter my target by chance in the middle of my first night and still emerge
with my life.
Yet I couldn’t deny the man seemed suspicious, especially considering he hadn’t denied his role
as an assassin, an accusation he’d worn like a badge of honor. It would bring me great satisfaction to
lock him and his conceit within a dungeon cell.
I’d lingered outside the royal armory too long, already attracting the attention of some of the
passing servants; the supposed princess being discovered in such a place would only invite unwanted
suspicion. In order to protect my fragile mask, I reluctantly departed and waited in my room to begin
my first day as the crown princess of Estoria.
Eventually, several maids arrived to help me get ready. My early life before my family’s fall of
being raised in a noble household made me somewhat familiar with the embarrassing affair, but the
experience proved much more unpleasant than when I’d been a child, especially after years of
independence.
It felt amazing to bathe and wash away the grime from my imprisonment, though no amount of soap
could scrub away the feel of the dungeon still clinging to my mind. The hot water and soap stung my
wrists, but the pain only served as a reminder that I was alive, well worth the cost to be clean and
feel human again.
I soaked long after the water grew cold before I was forced to endure their administrations. If I
could survive several endless weeks languishing in a dungeon on death row, I could endure my body
being scrubbed by foreign hands, my clothes draped around me as the maids dressed me like a doll,
and my hair painfully tugged into an elegant chignon.
When they finished and the servants took their leave, the woman staring back at me from the
mirror was a different one entirely; though she bore my face, she seemed to be nothing more than an
imposter playing dress-up. I stared in shock before lifting a hesitant hand to meet my reflection’s
fingertips against the glass. It was me, yet rather than myself, I seemed to be looking at a glimpse of
my life should my past not have taken such a drastic turn.
I attempted to force away my vain imaginings, but the sight of me donned in silk and jewels
invited the daydreams I’d once continuously entertained to grace my mind’s stage—they’d begun as
the fantasies of a young noble girl eager to grow up to become like her elegant mother and had
eventually become nothing more than pieces of fractured light I’d clung to after my entire world
shattered around me, impossible to repair. Eventually, these snippets of broken daydreams had
become too painful, forcing me to lock them away.
I’d thought time had smothered them, only for them to return with this single glimpse of the woman
I might have been if fate hadn’t been so cruel. To think I’d finally get to live out a portion of my
daydreams…though beneath the shadow of a death sentence, the bright glamour I’d once yearned for
was tainted by the darkness of a murderer lying in wait whom I had no idea how to unmask.
I forced myself to turn away, but even without the sight of my reflection I couldn’t escape the
weight of the jewelry across my neck and adorning my ears, nor the feel of silk against my skin with
every flowing step. My fingertips caught hold of the fabric, and though I promised myself only one
touch, I found myself rubbing the silk obsessively between my fingers. Even with each repeated touch
it still didn’t feel entirely real.
I hastily yanked my hand away at the intrusive knock. The advisor strolled in without so much as a
greeting, his sharp gaze already appraising me. Surprise widened his eyes. “You clean up remarkably
well. One would never guess you’ve spent the past month in the dungeon.”
The very dungeon in which the royals I was now being forced to masquerade as had placed me, a
cruel twist of irony. I tightened my jaw to keep back the biting attack burning my tongue, words I
ached to use as a weapon considering I lacked any other. The absence of the familiar blade hidden
along my thigh made me feel naked. No matter the layers of fabric and petticoats, nothing could cover
up who I truly was: a woman fallen from grace.
The advisor’s careful perusal settled into a pensive frown. “Anyone can dress up, but beyond the
proper wardrobe, you must embody the bearing of a royal. Your posture and movements were
passable yesterday—undoubtedly the result of your own background—but you’ve acquired many bad
habits over the years that are in need of correction.”
I hadn’t consciously been standing regally, but it seemed this brush with the elegant world I’d lost
had brought back all the lessons from my childhood training, ones that remained incomplete due to
having been cut so drastically short.
Sir Rupert had anticipated this and had an etiquette mistress brought in. My morning melted away
beneath her tutelage, which she gave with enthusiasm and patience, seeming tickled to have the honor
of helping the “true princess” enter her role with confidence. No one questioned who I was supposed
to be, leaving me the only one in turmoil.
Her training lasted several hours before I was finally released from the tedium and allowed to
take lunch in my room, hidden away from the court as I’d been during breakfast. When the dishes had
been cleared away, Rupert returned. In the brief sojourn we were alone, he informed me of the cover
story Their Majesties had decided upon: I’d been raised within the safety of the magical monastery
bordering the kingdoms with a proper education, but for the sake of my protection I’d had no
knowledge I was a princess until a royal entourage had arrived to bring me to the palace.
After making me repeat the story back to him several times to ensure I remembered it with
exactness, Sir Rupert moved to escort me, pausing in the doorway when I held up my wounded
wrists.
“The maids and etiquette tutor all noticed my injuries, and surely the court will too.” Just as the
assassin had last night. He loomed over my thoughts before I succeeded in forcefully pushing him
away.
I gave the advisor a look of challenge, but he remained entirely unfazed. “Such injuries will
shatter the illusion you are who we claim. I’ll summon a healer at once.”
For all my fascination with the magic that had consumed my purpose for so many years, I’d never
imagined it could be used to effortlessly erase all evidence of my time within the dungeon. My skin
tingled with warmth as the healer gently brushed his hand over each wrist before the sensation faded,
leaving my skin whole and healthy, without any sign of damage inflicted by my chains so that the only
scars were those still marring my memory.
I twisted my wrist experimentally, but there was no lingering pain, as if my injuries hadn’t been
inflicted at all. I should have found the healing wondrous, but it only escalated the anger constantly
simmering beneath the surface. To think the royal family guarded such power so selfishly. The thought
added further evidence to what I knew about Estoria’s magic, one it was my mission to expose if it
was the last thing I ever did.
When the healer left, Rupert escorted me through the immaculate hallways, taking the time to
impart his final instructions in a low murmur so as not to risk being overheard by the guards and
servants we passed. “You will be presented by His Majesty as Princess Evelyn before being required
to mingle with the court, which will give you your first opportunity to begin uncovering the threat
against Her Highness’s life.”
“Won’t it arouse suspicion for the princess to spend more time with the court than with her long-
lost parents?” I asked wryly.
“The court have been informed that you arrived yesterday and spent the entirety of last evening
and this morning with them. They understand the duties required within the world of nobility and will
not question your actions.”
I supposed I’d have to take his word for it.
With every step closer, I focused on keeping my breaths slow and even in hopes of staving off my
rising anxiety. All too soon we arrived at the ballroom where the court waited. The doors swung open
and I stepped into an image of marble and golden elegance illuminated by the glittering light cast by
the diamond chandeliers. A sea of faces awaited me, all bearing expressions of curiosity, one of
which masked a murderous heart.
 I lifted my chin and did my best to walk properly as I’d just been taught. The crowd parted like a
curtain to open up my path towards the dais, where the king and queen stood donned in elegance. It
took considerable effort to push through my aversion to return their tight smile that didn’t quite meet
their eyes. Rather than seek the escape I desperately yearned for, I lifted my skirts daintily and
ascended the steps where they awaited me.
“Our dear daughter.” The queen stiffly embraced me to provide the watching court with the show
they expected. I stiffened but managed not to flinch. It would have seemed more believable and less
awkward if we’d met previously rather than this being our first encounter, but perhaps Their
Majesties had been as reluctant to meet their daughter’s temporary replacement as I’d been to meet
those who’d signed my execution warrant.
The king rested his hand on my shoulder, but in spite of the fatherly demonstration I could feel his
subtle shaking, the only sign of his distress created by the charade. It painted him in a more human
light, but not enough to quench my searing hatred. Nothing could do that.
After their strained performance of parental affection for the attentive onlookers, the king’s arm
came around me to pull me against his side as he faced the court. “Today is a grand day. After years
of being hidden away for her protection, my daughter has finally returned.”
My cheeks burned at the resounding cheers that followed his declaration. He waited for them to
die down before launching into a grand speech that I immediately tuned out; I had more pressing
matters to focus on. My position on the dais granted me full view of those present, allowing me to
plot my first course of action in finding the most effective means of staying alive.
The task had seemed simple enough on paper, but I hadn’t accounted for my lack of confidence in
pretending to be someone not only so different from who I truly was but whom I loathed, all while
playing the role of detective, which I’d never attempted before, one made more stressful with the
deadly stakes.
I felt sheer overwhelm at the task. How was I to narrow dozens of strangers down to a single
threat? It’d been years since my family’s fall from nobility. As a result, I didn’t recognize anyone,
which put me at a distinct disadvantage.
At first glance no one seemed suspicious—all the noblemen appeared every part the gentlemen,
the noblewomen the embodiment of a proper lady, and the royalty all distinguishably royal—but the
image the strangers presented was merely a mask hiding the person within, one they wouldn’t
relinquish without a fight.
I had no clues to point me in the best direction to begin my hunt amongst so many, while the
assassin had already found me, making it all too easy for him to strike at his earliest convenience. I
couldn’t discern a suspicious stare midst the curious attention riveted to me…though I felt something
watching me with a measure of hostility. I glanced around, but midst such a vast sea of onlookers it
was impossible to decipher where the heated look came from, leaving me no clue whom to seek
out…or more importantly, whom to avoid.
After some consideration, I realized that the best course of action would be to use myself as bait.
Even if my position allowed me to interrogate the court without harming the relations between those I
questioned and the Estorian royal family, it wasn’t as if the conversation would yield new information
beyond what anyone else could obtain.
I could talk to a member from each prominent family and casually mention different places and
times that would be convenient ones to be attacked. Time would tell whether or not any would take
the bait and meet me there, but if they did…my trap would spring, and I’d have the mastermind
ensnared.
I could only hope it went as well as my optimistic plans.
The clapping following the king’s speech alerted me it was over. I blinked hastily before forcing
my lips upwards in a strained smile. The king awkwardly patted my shoulder before releasing me,
allowing the queen to approach for another embrace, which she used as a cover to whisper into my
ear. “Please, I’m begging you, find the one who wants to murder my precious daughter.”
I couldn’t care less if someone murdered the Estorian heir to the throne, but I forced myself to
nod. “I will find them, Your Majesty.” After all, my life depended on it.
They stepped back, allowing me to slowly descend the stairs to begin my difficult search in
uncovering the secrets and intrigue surrounding me. Unfortunately, despite my tentative plan, I still
had no idea where to begin. Most members of the court kept their distance, staring without venturing
any closer, as if uncertain I’d allow the proximity. I was grateful for the small reprieve that allowed
me time to plot my first move.
Sir Rupert had only offered me a single clue: that a member of the court was my intended target,
which wasn’t particularly helpful; one would think a prophecy about the princess would have been
more specific. Finding a way to enter the royal archives where prophecies and other important
records were traditionally kept in order to listen to it myself would be yet another goal for my list of
seemingly impossible tasks. Until then, I had no reason to dismiss this information outright.
The court held dozens of suspects, so for now narrowing this vast array down to a much smaller
pool of the few royals present would make my investigation much more manageable. Royalty had
ample motive—Estoria was a small nation. With the death of the sole heir it would be easy to annex
in order to steal the precious magic filling the land. Though the attempt would surely create conflict
with the other kingdoms, with Estoria’s magic within the conquerer’s control and if their army was
large enough, resistance would be relatively easy to subdue.
This motive befitting a royal didn’t immediately dismiss the rest of the court, for all who bore a
title were somehow connected to the royal family—those possessing the highest titles even had
royalty in their blood from being descended from previous monarchs.
A visit to the royal archives would allow me to discern who had the closest ties to the royal
family, as well as grant me the opportunity to research enchanted locks to discover how to break not
only the one guarding the royal armory but the royal treasury as well, my ultimate destination.
I would need to find an opportunity to slip away from my constant supervision given under the
guise of royal protection. My best bet would be to wait for the cover of night…which only increased
the odds of meeting him again.
My silent schemes were interrupted when a brave soul finally approached me—a serious but
handsome dark-haired man accompanied by a woman with flowing brown hair pulled free from the
confine of pins that traditionally trapped the elegant styles of the court.
He bowed low. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Princess Evelyn. I’m Crown Prince Elton of
Eldenwood, and this is my younger sister, Princess Collette.”
She offered a slightly imbalanced curtsy accompanied by a mischievous smile before breaking
away from her brother’s arm to loop hers through mine instead. I stiffened, unaccustomed to being
touched; like with Their Majesties, I had to force myself to remain still rather than recoil.
“It’s wonderful to meet you, though admittedly our pleasure is mingled with confusion. We were
shocked to receive word that the original Evelyn was a decoy. Though unconventional, she was a
sweet girl and I enjoyed her company. To think I’ll likely never see her again…” Her expression
became sad before she forced another smile. “I have no doubt I’ll come to enjoy yours as well.”
I tried to return her bright smile but the task proved difficult through the suspicion casting a cloud
over their polite interactions. Was it coincidence that this prince and princess had been the first to
seek me out, or were their warm words merely rehearsed to draw close enough to me to eventually
strike?
Eldenwood bordered Estoria and, to my knowledge, possessed an army large enough to invade in
hopes of acquiring this land’s magic. But just because they had opportunity didn’t mean they
possessed the lust for power and expansion necessary to seize it. My first order of business would be
to visit the library and immerse myself in its vast knowledge to see if this motive or any other reason
actually existed.
“Are you well, Princess Evelyn?” Princess Collette’s look of concern appeared genuine, but one
could never be entirely sure.
I forced another smile. “I’m merely overwhelmed. There are so many people to acquaint myself
with. Are nobility from all the surrounding kingdoms present?”
My suspicion of these two royals lingered when Prince Elton didn’t even hesitate to offer me
information, a willingness to talk about other kingdoms that could possibly serve as a means of
deflecting any attention away from himself.
“From what I can tell, all have sent a dignitary of notable rank, even if not every royal family is
represented by one of their own members. Brimoire, for instance, has two princes—Crown Prince
Lucian and Prince Ryland—but neither of them are present.”
“Undoubtedly due to the scandal.” Princess Collette’s expression immediately became impish as
she lowered her voice to a theatric whisper. “The former Princess Evelyn was engaged to Prince
Ryland before Estoria suddenly broke it off.”
Intriguing, as well as promising for my purposes. “Do you know why?”
She offered a dainty shrug. “There are various rumors, each more outlandish than the last. I hear
the king is on his way here to attempt to negotiate another alliance, though I doubt he’ll be
successful.”
His lack of success could potentially make Brimoire a prime suspect. They clearly had ample
motive—whispers were that their land was inflicted with some sort of blight, putting them in dire
need of Estoria’s magic, the promise of which had suddenly been snatched from them. I made a mental
note to investigate the king once he arrived.
“Would you mind sharing more about the other royals present?”
They did, though none of the information they presented felt workable at present, save for their
discussion concerning the infamous kingdom of Thorndale. Princess Collette nodded towards the
grave-looking prince standing on the other side of the room. “Their kingdom is known for their greed
and lust for power…and their willingness to acquire it by any means necessary, undoubtedly as a way
to make up for the magic they lost several years ago. I’d be wary of them.”
Though I was admittedly intrigued, their eagerness to cast doubt on Thorndale only increased my
misgivings about their true motive in imparting this information.
Lost magic? That seemed promising. I cast the Thorndalian prince a sidelong glance and found
him watching me through narrowed eyes. The warning about him immediately put that kingdom at the
top of my list to investigate, even as part of me wondered if it seemed too obvious that such a notable
enemy was the one I was searching for, considering the Estorian spies would have likely investigated
them first. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to test the waters.
After a few minutes more of light conversation with Eldenwood’s royalty, I reluctantly made my
way towards the prince of Thorndale, still watching me with an unwavering gaze. “Good afternoon,
you must be Prince Castiel of Thorndale. I’m Princess Evelyn of Estoria.”
I offered a proper curtsy, but he made no motion to bow in return, only continued to stare with an
unreadable stoic expression.
I shifted uneasily. No amount of questions would yield anything useful about the kingdom of
Thorndale or their potential motive for murder if the man proved unwilling to talk. I scrambled for a
topic and gestured to a nearby nature scene portrayed in a blend of cheerful pastels, such a contrast to
his dark, brooding manner.
“I noticed you admiring this painting.”
He remained silent, but his brow twitched slightly upwards in subtle bewilderment, as if
questioning my powers of observation—for anyone who’d been paying him the slightest bit of
attention would have noted his back had determinedly faced said painting the entire time he’d been in
the ballroom.
“There’s a remarkable painting in the alcove just off the throne room that I like to visit every
night,” I said with forced exuberance. “It’s a tucked-away place perfect for quiet reflection before
bed.”
He seemed the last man alive to appreciate fine artwork, but should he read between the lines,
he’d note there would be no witnesses for his crime should he be seeking opportunity.
He betrayed no emotion nor comment, so after a long moment of awkward silence I took my leave
and made my rounds to a few other prominent families, giving each a different time and location—I
told a Princess Liliana of Wisteria about a balcony that enjoyed the most beautiful sunrises every
morning, I informed a count within hearing distance of another prince that I sometimes snuck out for a
moonlit garden stroll in the palace’s rose garden, and I informed Prince Elton out of earshot of
Collette of a tucked-away section of the library where I planned to spend the following morning
researching.
The concentration required for scattering all these clues soon mingled with my heightened stress
and lack of sleep the night before to create a sharp headache. Seeking a much-needed reprieve, I
made my excuses and departed from Prince Elton to make my way to the refreshment table, thankfully
secluded from the suffocating crowd. I pressed my fingers to my aching temples with a sigh. While my
past had made me an expert in constantly entertaining suspicion, it still proved wearying.
“Are you well, Princess?”
That voice…I startled and spun around, half expecting to discover the masked figure I’d traipsed
the rooftop with. Instead I found an achingly handsome man, his fine features accompanied by deep
brown eyes, wavy dark hair, and a charming smile that seemed to reach deep inside me, bringing with
it a sense of familiarity as well as an annoying sense of attraction.
I nearly gasped in surprise. Oh my. His good looks made me instantly wary, for past experience
had taught me that looks and charm could easily become tools to manipulate. The fact he affected me
so keenly gave me every reason to be on my guard until I deciphered his true intentions.
His lips curved slightly upwards, as if he knew his effect on me and took great pleasure in it…
which only heightened my apprehension.
“I am well, thank you,” I shakily managed. Despite it being in my best interests to continue this
conversation, my dismissive tone was an invitation to end it, a hint he ignored by angling his body
closer in preparation for a cozy chat.
“A surprising response after so recently discovering your true identity. I’d find myself quite
unsettled to learn I was a prince in disguise.” He spoke casually in light conversation, but his eyes
were prodding. “I imagined the secret princess to be many things, yet I confess none have met the
reality.”
His smile remained polite, but something lurked beneath his mask of friendliness in the depths of
his dark eyes, a wariness that didn’t match his smooth words. I studied him. For all his charm, instinct
warned me to maintain my guard, despite having no discernible clues as to why.
“Who are you?” Not the most polite of inquiries, but hopefully my borrowed royal status would
allow me enough leeway to get away with it.
“Forgive me for failing to introduce myself. I am Lord Luke, the Son of the Duke of Rosewood, an
Estorian duchy with close ties to your family.”
He offered a deep bow and I curtsied in return, all while my mind whirled. An Estorian dukedom
would put him quite close to the royal family, which would either make him an ally to the crown or
one of its fiercest enemies.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Considering our families have such close ties, I welcome the thought
of an ally as I navigate this new and unfamiliar world.”
It might have been my imagination, but at the mention of ally, his smile became strained. “I’m
always willing to be of service.” As if determined to begin immediately, he held out a glass of punch
that would provide a refreshing respite from the heat brought by the swell of bodies pressing around
me. “Might I offer you a drink?”
I began reaching for it…only for him to suddenly hold it back slightly, a strange reaction that made
me pause long enough for my paranoia to come to a frantic conclusion. What was the likelihood that
the drink had been poisoned?
I’d hesitated too long. Confusion furrowed his brow. “Is something the matter, Princess? If punch
isn’t to your liking, I can retrieve something else for you.” He extended the glass again, this time
without a single hint of wavering, yet it was too late—his earlier hint of uncertainty had already made
me wary.
“There’s no need, but thank you for the offer.”
I carefully monitored his reaction to my refusal, but he simply shrugged. “As you wish.” Without
any hesitation, he took a long sip from the drink, confirming its safety and making me feel slightly
abashed for my paranoia. Either this man wasn’t the one after me, or he’d kill me in a way other than
poison…unless he was simply biding his time for the opportune moment.
Something about his shrug caught my attention—the manner in which he’d performed the casual
gesture seemed similar to the masked man I’d encountered last night. Ordinarily such a simple
movement wouldn’t offer much clue to a person’s identity, but I’d been trained to notice such things.
Not to mention his smooth, deep voice tickled my memory.
A myriad of questions scrambled my thoughts, all eagerly vying to be asked first. As if he sensed
my curiosity and sought to evade it, he bowed to take his leave as suddenly as he’d arrived…only to
pause half-turned away.
 “Is there something you need?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, merely stood a moment as if in silent debate before succumbing to whatever
impulse he fought to resist. A single glance, that was all it took—a confused furrow creased his brow
as his gaze flickered down to my wrists to find what had previously been an ugly and raw wound
completely healed.
The movement was so quick that someone less observant might not have noticed, but in his case it
proved fatal as it was enough for me to confirm what the tense familiarity between us had already
given me reason to suspect: this was the man I’d encountered last night, which meant if his word was
to be believed, he was an assassin.
Whether he was the assassin remained to be determined, but whether or not he was my quarry, I’d
best keep on my guard around him…or the consequences could be deadly.
 CHAP T E R 5

L ord Luke was the man I’d met on the roof, I was almost completely certain. He betrayed no
hints beyond our short introduction, but not only was he familiar, I was well-versed enough in
human behavior to recognize when someone was hiding something.
He hadn’t paid me any particular attention beyond our exchange of pleasantries…which only
made me suspect him all the more. I subtly watched as he conversed with all the poise befitting his
station, but though he behaved the part of a charming gentleman, I sensed his attention lay
elsewhere…and I suspected it was on me.
His interest seemed to be beyond the curiosity exhibited by the other members of the court about
the mysterious princess who’d spent her life in hiding, stares which measured my character even as
they plotted how to exploit me for their own ends. His interest felt suspicious, an emotion easy to
recognize considering it was what I felt towards him.
I studied both him and the memory of our meeting, lingering on all the evidence pointing to his
true identity. If this son of a duke was the assassin I’d met on the roof, it only deepened the mystery
surrounding him and compelled me to want to learn more, a curiosity almost as strong as my need to
unmask him for the sake of my own life and to escape the palace with the object I sought.
Yet something felt…off. If he was working for the one the prophecy spoke of after the princess’s
life, I’d have expected his abilities would have prevented his intentions from being so easily
unmasked. Each breadcrumb leading to him seemed too conveniently placed, even as I couldn’t deny
the suspicion each clue cast on him. He was as good of a place to start as any, especially when I had
no idea how many more measured breaths of borrowed time remained before I ran out.
His gaze flickered towards me with a curious air, and too late I realized I’d been staring too long,
my pensive thoughts making me careless. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly before he winked, a
gesture that only deepened my heated fluster at having been caught. I hastily averted my gaze and
made a pointed effort to avoid looking in his direction, but I remained constantly aware of him so that
I noticed the moment he excused himself to leave.
Anticipation tingled my skin. Now was my chance to spy on him and explore my suspicions. If I
plotted my moves carefully, perhaps I could even succeed in stealing back my dagger, which I
suspected he carried on his person.
I used my growing headache as an excuse to escape the ballroom with a guard trailing close
behind, ignoring Their Majesties’ disappointment and Sir Rupert’s pointed look; the heat of his
disapproving stare followed me from the room, but he made no motion to stop me, one of the few
advantages of my role, though I had no doubt my rebellion would cause me later difficulty. If the man
expected me to investigate, then I needed the ability to roam freely.
I’d worry about him later. Right now I had a quarry to track. It proved surprisingly easy. I
followed him at a distance, using the long shadows cast by the flickering candlelight as cover. He
whistled as he walked at a leisurely pace towards the guest quarters, which lay just beyond the corner
he rounded. I hastened after him…only to suddenly discover him no longer in sight.
I looked wildly around but couldn’t see him anywhere. The decorative hallway ended at a dead
end and lacked any doors he might have slipped through. Where could he have gone? Even if he’d
somehow sensed my presence, how had he managed to slip past me? Such a feat would have been
easy for the man on the roof, which made him all the more dangerous.
Trepidation seized my pounding heart. Losing sight of my elusive target put me at a distinct
disadvantage. I hesitated to give up my pursuit, but lingering only increased the likelihood he’d catch
me rather than my actually finding anything of use. If he knew I suspected him, his active attempts to
thwart me would only make it more difficult to discover anything.
With a quiet sigh I backtracked through the corridors. Rather than return to the suffocating
ballroom, I went to my room to await the night, when I’d be able to sneak around the palace.
I remained extra vigilant as I slinked along the roof, but I didn’t see any sign of the masked man,
as if he’d been nothing more than a phantom swallowed up by the night.
I found my way to the kitchens, where I procured a knife efficient enough to be used as a makeshift
weapon but not one that might be missed. Should the theft be discovered, I hoped the mysterious threat
plaguing the palace would fall under suspicion, rather than the decoy.
I tested its weight in my hand. It wasn’t proportioned in a way ideal for throwing, but it’d have to
do. I used a spare cloth I procured from one of the drawers to carefully strap it to my thigh that had
once been home to my more familiar dagger. Though not quite the same, I found the cool blade against
my skin and the familiar weight of the hilt soothing.
I returned to the silent corridors. Though I’d memorized the palace layout, my nighttime
explorations as well as walking the halls by day had made me more intimate with the placement of the
rooms and the guards’ positions. While there was risk in them discovering my wandering, my
assigned role offered me some protection, which lessened my anxiety enough for me to enjoy the
usual thrill that came from stealth.
My senses tingled from the danger and sense of mystery brought by the puzzle of how to best
navigate the shadowy obstacles in the path to my goal, leaving me feeling alive.
As I neared the royal treasury that had been my target since infiltrating the palace, my senses
suddenly shifted: I was being followed. Whoever the mysterious intruder was, they certainly hadn’t
wasted any time.
With a quiet gasp I pressed myself against the wall and focused on searching the darkness behind
me, holding my breath to better concentrate on every subtle sound filling the night and mask my own
presence. But though I managed to quiet my breaths, I couldn’t muffle the pounding of my heart, a
sound magnified by the surrounding dark stillness.
Nothing.
I searched again, more carefully, but the shadows seemed empty, making me wonder if whatever
had captured my attention had been nothing more than the wild workings of my imagination, more
paranoid after my sojourn in the dungeon. Yet my senses still tingled, a prickling warning I couldn’t
ignore.
Too late, I realized I’d been too obvious in noticing the sinister presence behind me—my spotty
training with Zeke hadn’t prepared me as much as I’d thought, leaving me overconfident…but at least
my awareness would offer me protection in my quest, even if it came with the disadvantage of
alerting whoever followed me that I’d detected them. Thankfully, this time I wasn’t left entirely
defenseless. My hand hovered above the kitchen knife even as my ears continued searching the night.
My thumb had barely grazed the hilt when the whooshing sound of something being thrown
penetrated the darkness. Only reflex gave me the speed necessary to dodge it in time. Instinctively I
yanked my knife free and threw it in the direction the other had come. A soft grunt indicated it’d hit its
mark, but without the light necessary to accurately aim, the wound was likely not fatal.
I reached for the weapon the assailant had thrown…only to find it’d disappeared, likely having
bounced off the wall to become lost in the surrounding darkness.
Fear seized hold of me and I ran, hoping my loud footsteps would alert the palace guards of my
flight, attention that would serve as my only protection as they defended the one they believed to be
their princess. The sound of pursuit followed close behind, drawing ever closer.
Someone suddenly seized my arm and yanked me into a dark and enclosed passageway, which
slid shut behind us. I flailed in protest and made to scream, but the sound was smothered by a hand
pressing tightly against my mouth.
“Be quiet.”
Though I’d only heard him speak a few times, already his voice was eerily familiar: the assassin
from the rooftop. Like last night, he was clad entirely in black with a cloth mask around the lower
part of his face, exposing only his eyes, my only hint to the emotions he might be harboring.
“You!” His hand muffled my exclamation of surprise. He pressed his finger to his lips in silent
warning before resting his ear against the door, listening…but there was no further sound.
Still he waited, tense and alert, trapping me in this awkward position far longer than I wanted. My
breaths grew ragged in response to the dark, confined space closing in around me. It left very little
room for us to maneuver, forcing me to remain trapped in the heat of his presence and every firm line
of his body pressing against mine. Despite my embarrassment, it wasn’t at all an uncomfortable
position, and even offered an almost soothing reprieve…which only escalated my annoyance.
The terror from my recent brush with death, magnified by the lingering memory of the agonizing
hours before my execution, caused me to unconsciously nestle closer…before remembering he was
also a threat. I pressed my hands against his chest in silent urging for him to step away, but he waited
until another agonizing minute had crawled by before finally relaxing.
Though the danger had likely passed, he didn’t pull away, though he did lower his hand, allowing
my suppressed frustration to finally escape. “How dare you. Unhand me this instant.”
“Not the gratitude I expected for saving your life.” But he obediently stepped away, leaving me
relieved to be free from the confines of his embrace—and strangely missing it. “If you prefer to have
been left at the mercy of whomever you were running from, I’m curious enough about your pursuer to
use you as bait, if that is truly your wish.”
I glared, but as before, such a measly weapon had absolutely no effect on him. “You expect me to
believe it’s mere coincidence I happened to encounter you during my flight from my attacker?”
“If it’d truly been me, then I assure you I wouldn’t have missed, which is clearly what happened
considering you’re alive to keep me company in this cozy passageway.”
 Considering he’d already demonstrated an uncanny ability to move about, the likes of which I’d
never seen, unfortunately his boasting was likely not exaggerated. But before I could extend any of my
carefully guarded trust, I spotted something that made my breath catch—a long and still bleeding cut
on his upper cheek near his eye that had definitely not been there last night.
My eyes narrowed. “Where did you get that?”
His brows furrowed. “Get what?” He grazed the scratch and stiffened at the sight of his
bloodstained fingers. “Nowhere.” But his voice shook and his composure faltered into one of almost
panic as he repeatedly wiped his hand on his sleeve.
“It’s fresh, so you clearly just acquired it.” The knife I’d blindly thrown had struck someone. If
it’d been him, I found myself in quite the precarious position being alone in a confined space with a
man bent on my murder.
He didn’t answer, his entire focus on struggling to breathe, as if in the time since I’d pointed out
his cut he’d forgotten how. Gone was his usual confidence, taking with it some of his intimidating
aura.
While not the most ideal distraction, it was better than nothing. I pushed against the wall and it
opened easily, allowing me to stumble back into the corridor…but I hadn’t gotten far when he was
suddenly in front of me again. I was so startled I didn’t even duck beneath his arm to keep running as I
might otherwise have done. Instead I stopped short, gaping.
“How do you do that?”
In his lingering fluster he didn’t immediately answer. He kept frantically scrubbing at his cheek
with his sleeve before forcing a steadying breath and tucking his usual confidence back around him to
straighten.
“Even though the danger has passed, I can’t allow you to escape until I’ve used this welcome
chance to converse with you.”
Though the temptation to run lingered, his inhuman speed rendered it futile. Perhaps a
conversation wouldn’t be entirely useless, considering I could at least use it to confirm whether this
was indeed Lord Luke, son of the Duke of Rosewood.
I released an annoyed huff in acquiescence, and he leaned leisurely against the wall to look me up
and down.
“In our previous introductions you failed to mention that you’re the princess. I admit the
discovery came as quite a surprise that has only invited more questions than from our initial rooftop
encounter, enhanced by my discovery you’re sneaking about and being attacked in your own palace.”
I’d half hoped the faded light would prevent him from recognizing me, but I shouldn’t have
doubted his aggravating skill. “Which means you’re either a nobleman or a royal, considering they’re
the only ones I’ve currently interacted with.”
“You dismiss the possibility of my being one of the attending guards or even a servant. You must
learn to think outside the box, Princess.” Rather than deference, only mocking surrounded my
supposed title.
For a moment I briefly wondered whether I’d been too hasty in my assumptions that Lord Luke
and this assassin were one and the same. Other than similar mannerisms and his having glanced
questioningly at my healed wrists, I had little proof. My gaze flickered to the cut beneath his eye,
quite distinguishable and impossible to hide. That would prove a useful identifier the next time we
met.
 His keen observation noticed the trajectory of my gaze. “It appears that thanks to my carelessness
I am at equal disadvantage, though I suppose both of our knowing one another’s identities will even
the playing field and make this game of cat and mouse all the more interesting.”
“If not from my knife, then where did you get that cut?”
“That, my princess, is a secret, perhaps one I can use to barter for some of your own.”
It took considerable effort to mask my escalating panic. The secrets he coveted were undoubtedly
all that kept his interest; the moment he lost it, my life would be forfeit.
I lifted my chin. “I have no reason to divulge my secrets without your own in exchange.”
“Stubborn, though it appears you know how to play this game.” He sounded thoroughly amused.
“Perhaps a bargaining chip is in order.”
He withdrew my dagger he’d stolen from the royal armory. I immediately lunged for it, but like
last night, he merely held it aloft, his greater height making it impossible for me to even graze my
fingers along the hilt.
“It appears you fail to understand the finer points of negotiation: I’ll give you what you want only
in exchange for what I desire.”
I weighed the potential risks of his offer. “I cannot concede until I fully understand the nature of
your request. What could you possibly need from me?”
He hesitated, as if weighing the pros and cons of tipping his hand this early. “I need access to the
forbidden tomes.”
“The what?” My ignorance escaped before I could hold it back.
His eyebrow rose. “The palace library houses a section of rare books only the royal family can
access. I’d question your lack of knowledge if it weren’t clear how little time you’ve spent at the
palace.”
I gratefully seized his proffered excuse even as I silently berated myself for my careless slip; the
recent attack must have shaken me more than I’d realized.
“The lock guarding what I seek can only be breached by a member of the royal family.”
Of which I most definitely was not. Unfortunately, I wasn’t masquerading as just any princess, but
a magical one whose powers should make it easy to pass through a magical barrier. The moment he
realized how little help I could actually provide, my cover would be blown.
“Despite your royal status, I’m left to wonder whether you can actually assist me, considering
you’ve already proved your inability to enter the royal armory.” He tauntingly twirled my dagger
expertly with his fingers as he pondered a puzzle.
“My unfamiliarity with the magic that comes with my true identity provides ample reason,
whereas you have yet to present an adequate excuse for your own inconsistency: the lock on the royal
armory posed little challenge for you, yet you’re struggling to access the forbidden tomes.” The
contradiction gave me reason to wonder whether my help accessing the forbidden tomes wasn’t what
he was truly after.
He nodded approvingly. “It appears the princess is clever. Unfortunately, the natures of the two
protections are quite different, else I assure you I’d have long since acquired what I seek.”
Despite myself, I found myself curious what this masked man could possibly want to discover
enough to bargain with me. “As much as I value my dagger, it seems an uneven exchange. Considering
you’re a man who sneaks about the palace at night and steals weapons from the royal armory, I have
no reason to trust you.”
 “And my saving your life wasn’t enough to convince you? The nature of my quest leaves me little
use for your eternal silence.”
Perhaps…but even if his claims that he never missed his deathly aims were to be believed, he
might still be my attacker but had missed on purpose to serve as a warning or as a way to force me
into his debt; he seemed the type of man who found great entertainment in playing with his food. I also
couldn’t dismiss the possibility that it wasn’t the knowledge hidden behind a magical lock he sought,
but information about me.
He sighed. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. If you believe I’m requiring too much
for a mere dagger, then I have a much more efficient bargaining chip in mind.” The air immediately
shifted and he took a menacing step closer. “It appears that despite the dangers, you find yourself
alone, Princess.”
Fear lodged in my throat. “Dangers?”
“Indeed. Without the safety of a guard, anything could happen.”
I only lacked a guard because I’d snuck from my bedroom window, leaving those who stood
outside my room with the impression I still slept peacefully within the safe confines of my bedroom.
My wandering the halls unaccompanied tainted the illusion that I was really who I claimed.
He rested his hand on the wall behind me to trap me within a cage and leaned forward, closing in
on me with a determined glint that made me realize what he intended to do. My breath caught. “Either
I cooperate…or you’ll kill me after all.”
Rather than respond, he tauntingly stroked my cheek with my own blade, which was all the
answer I needed. I tensed in preparation to run…only I had no escape. He’d already proved his
quicker speed and would catch me effortlessly, concluding this little game in yet another failure on my
part, only this time there’d be no second chance.
At my desire to live, resistance flared, strengthening my resolve. No, that wouldn’t happen. If I
was to die, it’d be as myself, not as a decoy under a false name. Which meant that until I found a way
to obtain the upper hand, I’d be forced to play according to his rules.
“Very well, I’ll find a way to access the forbidden tomes.”
I sensed his smirk beneath his mask. “It appears you’re wise enough to recognize a warning when
it’s given: it’s dangerous for a princess to be wandering by herself. Who knows what might happen.”
Even with his warning given he didn’t immediately move his threatening presence looming over
me, only a breath away. Finally, with a quiet sigh he pushed away and dismissed me with an
indifferent wave of his hand.
I didn’t hesitate to escape, risking a glance back at the end of the corridor…only to discover that
rather than melt into the surrounding shadows as he’d done last night, he watched me, his gaze
unreadable at such a distance. But I sensed his silent challenge.
With my head whirling with aggravating threats from charming but deadly assassins, the moment I
assured myself he wasn’t following I snuck to the alcove I’d mentioned to Prince Castiel of
Thorndale to see whether he’d taken my bait. There I crouched behind the drapes, parting them just
enough to peer through.
The area remained abandoned until my legs grew numb. Eventually footsteps penetrated the
stillness. I instantly tensed, on high alert…but it wasn’t Prince Castiel who arrived but the same
assassin who seemed determined to make my life a misery. He must have been sent by the prince of
Thorndale, and I took a moment to silently congratulate myself on having figured out the mastermind
Another random document with
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VII

Neiti Holladay tulee oikulliseksi

Seuraavana sunnuntaina Hiram Holladayn kuoleman jälkeen

laskettiin hänen maalliset jäännöksensä hautakammioon hänen
vaimonsa viereen Woodlawinin hautausmaalla; ja kaksi päivää sen
jälkeen avattiin ja jätettiin hänen testamenttinsa, jonka oli laatinut
Graham ja joka oli säilössä konttorin kassakaapissa, valvottavaksi.
Kuten oli odotettu, oli hän määrännyt koko omaisuutensa ilman
mitään ehtoja tyttärelleen Francesille. Poikkeuksena tehtiin vain
muutamia lahjoituksia vanhoille palvelijoille; Rogers sai kauniin
testamentin, ja noin puoli miljoonaa annettiin erinäisille
hyväntekeväisyyslaitoksille, joita vainaja harrasti elämänsä aikana.
Muu kaikki jätettiin hänen tyttärensä vapaaseen käytäntöön.

Huomasimme, että hänen omaisuutensa oli arvioitu liian suureksi,

mutta kuitenkin jäi enemmän kuin neljä miljoonaa dollaria tuolle
nuorelle tytölle — sangen kauniit myötäjäiset! Hän sanoi meille heti
haluavansa jättää kaikki liikeasiat meidän käsiimme ja tahtovansa
kokonaan seurata neuvojamme raha-asioissa. Suurimman osan
näitä asioita hoiti Royce, ja vaikka hän luonnollisesti ei puhunut
minulle asiasta mitään, niin oli kuitenkin selvää, että neiti Holladayn
ystävälliset tunteet häntä kohtaan eivät olleet heikontuneet. Kaikki
konttorissa olijat olivat enemmän taikka vähemmän samassa
uskossa asian suhteen ja toivottivat hänelle onnea ja menestystä.

Niin kului kahdeksan, kymmenen päivää. Huolimatta

sanomalehtien ja poliisin ponnistuksista ei mitään uutta valoa ollut
langennut tuohon kammottavaan murhenäytelmään, ja suurelta
yleisöltä se oli jo jäänyt taka-alalle ja unohtunut antaakseen tilaa
muille huomiotaherättäville tapauksille. Alutta mitä ainakin minuun
tulee, oli harrastukseni vieläkin vähentymätöntä, ja useammin kuin
kerran kävin läpi kaikki yksityiskohdat, vakuuttautuakseni uudelleen,
että arvelumme oli oikea. Ainoastaan yhdessä kohdin minusta näytti
kuin se viittoisi vastakkaiseen. Jos oli olemassa avioton tytär, niin tuo
kuolettava pisto, jonka hän oli antanut isälleen, oli riistänyt häneltä
koko sen aineellisen tuen, jonka tämä oli antanut hänelle ja samalla
kaikki toiveet saada vielä lisää häneltä. Hän olisi siis menetellyt
omaa parastansa vastaan — mutta näinkin ollen voisi se, mitä
Godfrey nimitti väkivallanhimoksi, selittää asian. Ja sitäpaitsi voihan
olettaa, että neiti Holladay pitäisi yltäkylläisen huolen sisarestaan,
kunhan vain hänen ensimmäinen surunsa olisi mennyt ohitse.
Tämän myöntäen olettamus oli täysin paikkansa pitävä.

Mutta eräs toinen asia aiheutti minulle paljon päänvaivaa. Kuinka

nainen oli välttänyt poliisin? Tiesin, että tuossa ranskalaisessa
kaupunginosassa häntä oli haeskeltu ilman mitään tulosta kaikki
paikat, mutta olin myöskin varma siitä, että etsiskely oli toimitettu
huolimattomasti, muuten olisi varmaan löydetty joku jälki hänestä.
Neiti Holladay kieltäytyi luonnollisesti jyrkästi vastaamasta kaikkiin
kysymyksiin, ja tähän nähden huomasin taas olevani pulassa.
Epäilemättä hän ei lainkaan halunnut, että rikollinen nainen
löydettäisiin, ja kuitenkin hänet oli mielestäni löydettävä, jos ei muun
niin neiti Holladayn itsensä vuoksi — vapauttaakseen hänet sen
pilven viimeisestäkin varjosta, joka häälyi hänen yllänsä.

Silloin tapahtui hämmästyttävän nopeasti käänne uusiin

kehkeämismahdollisuuksiin. Eräänä päivänä vähää ennen konttorin
sulkemisaikaa tuli eräs konttoristeista sisempään
konttorihuoneeseen ja sanoi, että ulkona oli eräs nainen, joka sanoi
haluavansa puhutella herra Roycea. Hän ei ollut ilmoittanut
nimeänsä, mutta Royce, joka sillä hetkellä sattui olemaan vapaana,
käski ohjaamaan hänet sisään. Niin pian kun sain nähdä vieraan,
tunsin hänet, ja niin teki päällikkönikin — hän oli neiti Holladayn
kamarineiti. Näin myöskin, että hänen silmänsä olivat punaiset
itkusta, ja kun hän istuutui Roycen kirjoituspöydän viereen, alkoi hän
itkeä uudelleen.

»Mitä nyt, mitä on tapahtunut?» kysyi Royce. »Eihän

emännällenne liene mitään ikävyyttä tapahtunut?»

»Hän ei ole enää emäntäni», nyyhkytti tyttö. »Hän on eroittanut

minut tänään palveluksestaan.»

»Eroittanut teidät!» toisti Royce. »Mistä se johtuu? Luulin, että hän

piti teistä.»

»Niin, sitä olen minäkin luullut, mutta hän on eroittanut minut joka
tapauksessa.»

»Mutta minkävuoksi?» intti toinen.

»Sitä juuri haluaisin tietää. Pyysin ja rukoilin, että hän sanoisi

minulle sen, mutta hän ei tahtonut edes nähdä minua. Niin tulin
tänne. Ajattelin, että ehkä voisin saada jotakin apua täältä.»

»Antakaa minun kuulla kaikki, mitä on tapahtunut», sanoi Royce

tyynnyttäen. »Onhan mahdollista, että voin olla jollakin tavalla teille
hyödyksi.»

»Voi, jospa niin hyvin olisi!» huudahti hän. »Minä kun olen niin
mieltynyt neiti Francesiin! Olen ollut hänen luonaan lähemmäs
kahdeksan vuotta, ja kun hän sitten kohtelee minua tällä tavalla, se
on niin ikävää, että voin surra itseni kuoliaaksi! Olin häntä
pukemassa tänään kahden aikaan, ja hän oli yhtä kiltti kuin
muulloinkin minua kohtaan — vieläpä antoi minulle rintaneulankin,
joka ei häntä enää miellyttänyt. Sitten hän läksi ulos ajelemaan ja tuli
takaisin noin tunnin kuluttua. Menin heti hänen huoneeseensa
auttamaan häntä riisuutumisessa, ja kun koputin ovelle, tuli eräs
vieras nainen ovesta ja sanoi, että neiti Frances oli ottanut hänet
kamarineidikseen eikä tarvinnut minua enää, ja antoi minulle
kuukauden palkan. Ja seisoessani siinä niin ällistyneenä etten voinut
liikahtaakaan, hän löi oven kiinni nenäni edessä. Kun olin tointunut
vähän, pyysin puhutella neiti Francesta, jos ei muuten niin
sanoakseni hyvästi; mutta hän ei tahtonut ottaa minua vastaan. Hän
käski tervehtiä sanoen, että hän ei voinut hyvin eikä halunnut tulla
häirityksi.»

Tytön nyyhkytykset kävivät niin voimakkaiksi, ettei hän voinut

jatkaa.

Roycen katse ilmaisi hämmästystä, enkä ihmetellyt sitä. Miten oli

neiti Holladay yhtäkkiä saanut vastenmielisyyden tätä
hyväluontoista, häneen niin mieltynyttä olentoa kohtaan?
 »Sanotte, ettette tuntenut tuota toista kamarineitiä?» kysyi
päällikköni.

»Niin, hän ei ole koskaan ennen ollut talossa. Niin paljon kuin
ainakin minä tiedän. Neiti Frances toi hänet mukanaan kotiin
vaunuissa.»

»Minkä näköinen hän oli?»

Tyttö epäröi.

»Niinkuin ulkomaalainen, minun mielestäni», sanoi hän vihdoin.

»Ranskalainen ehkä — päättäen siitä, miten hän äänsi 'r':n.»

Tulin tarkkaavaksi. Sama aatos heräsi Roycessa ja minussa

samalla kertaa.

»Onko hän yhdennäköinen neiti Holladayn kanssa?» kysyi hän

äkisti.

»Neiti Holladayn! Ei! Hän on paljon vanhempi, aivan

harmaapäinen.»

No niin, neiti Holladaylla oli luonnollisesti oikeus ottaa

kamarineidikseen ken hyvänsä ja eroittaa kaikkikin palvelijansa, jos
häntä huvitti; mutta sittenkin tuntui hänen tapojansa vastaan
merkillisen sotivalta tämä perin väärä esiintyminen toista kohtaan.

»Sanotte hänen lähettäneen terveisiä, että hän oli sairas?» sanoi

Royce vihdoin. »Oliko hän sairas teidän pukiessanne häntä?»

»E-ei», vastasi tyttö pitkäveteisesti. »En tahdo sanoa, että hän oli
juuri sairas, mutta hän näytti alakuloiselta ja huolestuneelta jonkun
asian vuoksi. Luulen hänen itkeneen. Hän on muuten itkenyt paljon
isänsä kuoleman jälkeen, raukka!» lisäsi hän.

Tämä voi tosin selittää asian. Mutta todennäköisesti ei se ollut

ainoastaan suru isän kadottamisesta, joka oli syynä Frances
Holladayn kyyneleihin.

»Eikä hän näyttänyt teitä kohtaan vihaiselta?»

»Ei, ei tietysti! Hänhän antoi minulle rintaneulan, kuten äsken

sanoin.»

»Pelkään, etten voi tehdä teidän hyväksenne mitään», sanoi

Royce pitkäveteisesti, mietittyään hetkisen. »Luonnollisesti en voi
sekaantua sellaiseen asiaan; neiti Holladaylla on oikeus hoitaa
talouttansa niinkuin itse parhaaksi näkee. Mutta jos ette pääse
takaisin entiselle emännällenne, niin voisi tapahtua, että minä voin
hankkia teille paikan jossakin muualla. Voittehan tulla takaisin
kolmen, neljän päivän perästä, niin katson, mitä olen saanut
aikaan.»

»Sen teen. Paljon kiitoksia!» sanoi hän ja meni.

Minun oli toimiteltava vähän omia asioitani tänä iltana, minkä

vuoksi en ajatellut sen enempää Frances Holladayta ja hänen
asioitaan, mutta seuraavana aamuna sain taas voimakkaan
muistutuksen siitä.

»Saitko neiti Holladayn allekirjoituksen valvonta-asiakirjaan?»

sattui
Graham kysymään kumppaniltaan.
 »En», vastasi Royce vähän hätäytyneenä. »Olin hänen kotonaan
eilisiltana, mutta hän lähetti minulle terveiset ilmoittaen, että hän oli
liian sairas tullakseen alas puhumaan kanssani tai toimimaan
liikeasioita.»

»Ei suinkaan se ole mitään vakavaa laatua?» kysyi toinen

kiireisesti.

»Ei, sitä en luule. Arvattavasti se on vain pientä hermostumista.»

Mutta kun hän uudelleen meni hänen luokseen illalla, sai hän
saman vastauksen, ja samalta hovimestarilta, joka oli ollut monta
vuotta perheen palveluksessa, sen tiedon, että neiti Holladay oli
yhtäkkiä päättänyt jättää kaupungin ja muuttaa kesäasuntoonsa
Long Islandiin. Oli vasta maaliskuun loppupuoli, niin että kokonaista
kaksi kuukautta oli vielä kesäkauden alkuun; mutta hän tunsi
olevansa hyvin heikko, ei voinut edes lähteä huoneestansa ja luuli,
että raitis ilma ja maaelämän hiljaisuus vaikuttaisivat paremmin kuin
mikään muu hänen turmeltuneihin hermoihinsa. Sen vuoksi tulisi
koko talousväki, lukuunottamatta hänen kamarineitiään, keittäjää,
sisäpalvelijaa ja käskyläistä, lähtemään kaupungista seuraavana
päivänä laittaakseen kesäasunnon heti kuntoon.

»En ihmettele, että hänen tarvitsee vähän vahvistaa itseänsä»,

huomautti Graham osaaottavasti. »Hänen on täytynyt kestää vaikea
koettelemus, erittäinkin vaikea tytölle, joka on saanut sellaisen
kasvatuksen kuin hän. Parin kolmen kuukauden hiljaisuus ja lepo
tulevat tekemään hänelle hyvää. Milloin hän itse aikoo lähteä?»

»Viikon perästä, luullakseni. Päivää ei ole vielä varmasti määrätty.

Riippuu siitä, kuinka pian kaikki saadaan järjestykseen maalla.
Eihän ole tarpeellista häiritä häntä nyt millään liikeasioilla? Tämä
valvonta-asiakirja…»

»Voi odottaa siksi kun hän tulee takaisin. Niin, annamme hänen
olla rauhassa niin paljon kuin mahdollista.»

Mutta, kuten näytti, hän oli tullut paremmaksi tai muuttunut, sillä
kaksi päivää sen jälkeen tuli kirje, jonka hänen kamarineitinsä oli
kirjoittanut hänen edestään Grahamille ja jossa hän pyysi häntä
tulemaan luoksensa seuraavan päivän iltana, koska hän halusi
puhua muutamista liikeasioista hänen kanssaan. Minusta näytti
hyvin kummalliselta, että hän kääntyi Grahamin puoleen, mutta tämä
otti kaikessa tapauksessa ajurin ja lähti, tekemättä mitään
huomautusta. Tunti sen jälkeen avautui konttorin ovi ja hän tuli
sisään omituinen ilme kasvoillaan.

»Toden totta minä en käsitä hitustakaan!» puhkesi hän istuessaan

tuolilleen.

Royce kääntyi sivuttain häntä kohti sanomatta mitään, mutta näkyi

kuitenkin selvästi, kuinka levoton hän oli.

»Ajatella, että niin hyvällä ymmärryksellä varustettu tyttö kuin

Frances Holladay on osoittanut olevansa, nyt saa päähänsä sellaisia
oikkuja! Se on käsittämätöntä! Mutta sittenkään en voi olla
ihailematta hänen älykkyyttään. Täällä olen minä oleillut ja uskonut,
ettei hän pitänyt lukua liikeasioistaan ja ettei hänellä olisi
pienintäkään selkoa, mutta hänellä näkyy joka tapauksessa olleen
silmät auki.»

»Mistä on kysymys?» kysyi Royce, kun toinen keskeytti puheensa.

 »Hän aloitti muistuttamalla minua siitä, että hänen omaisuutensa
oli kokonaan hänen käytettävissään, ja että hän sai tehdä sen
kanssa mitä itse tahtoi, mikä minun luonnollisesti oli myönnettävä.
Sitten hän jatkoi ja sanoi tietävänsä, että hänen isänsä aikomuksena
eläessään oli tehdä useampia lahjoituksia ja että hän olisi ne tehnyt,
jollei olisi niin äkkiä kuollut; että lahjoitukset olivat sen luontoisia,
ettei hän halunnut nimensä asettamista niiden yhteyteen ja että hän
aikoi toimittaa ne nimettömästi.»

»Sitten?» kysyi Royce.

»Sitten», sanoi Graham pitkäveteisesti, »hän pyysi minua

myymään sellaisia arvopapereitaan, jotka hyväksi näkisin, niin että
voisin huomenna jättää hänelle satatuhatta dollaria puhtaassa
kullassa — satatuhatta dollaria!»
VIII

Salaperäinen kamarineiti

»Satatuhatta dollaria!» huudahti Royce ja tuijotti kumppaniinsa.

»Niin, satatuhatta dollaria! Se on kaunis summa nuorelle tytölle

annettavaksi kerrallaan, mutta hänellä on varoja siihen.
Luonnollisesti meillä ei ole muuta tehtävänä kuin seurata hänen
ohjeitaan. Arvelen, että voimme molemmat arvata, mitä hän aikoo
rahoilla tehdä.»

Royce nyökäytti päätään. Minä luulin myöskin arvaavani sen.

Rahat olivat tietysti aiotut tuolle toiselle naiselle — kun kaikki kävi
ympäri, niin ei hän siis saisikaan kärsiä rikoksestaan. Minun
mielestäni ei ollut kaukana, ettei neiti Holladay tehnyt itseänsä
osalliseksi rikokseen.

»Hän näkyy todellakin olevan sairas», jatkoi Graham. »Hän näytti

laihalta ja surkastuneelta. Lujitin hänen päätöstänsä etsiä lepoa ja
rauhaa muuttamalla oleskelupaikkaa.»

»Milloin hän lähtee?» kysyi Royce tukahtuneella äänellä.

 »Ylihuomenna luullakseni. Hän ei voinut sanoa varmaan. Itse
asiassa ei hän voinut puhua paljon. Hänen äänensä oli sortunut —
oli vilustunut — se on kai influenssaa, luulen. Olisin tehnyt pahoin,
jos olisin pakottanut häntä puhumaan, sen vuoksi en sitä
yrittänytkään.»

Hän kääntyi pöytänsä ääreen, mutta pyöräytti tuolinsa kohta sen

jälkeen uudelleen.

»Ohimennen sanottuna», sanoi hän, »näin tuon uuden

kamarineidin. En voi sanoa, että hän teki minuun hyvän
vaikutuksen.»

Hän vaikeni hetkiseksi kuin olisi punninnut sanojaan.

»Hän näytti säädylliseltä ja muuten miellyttävältä», jatkoi hän

vihdoin, »mutta en pitänyt hänen silmistään. Ne olivat terävät.
Havaitsin hänen pari kolme kertaa katselevan minua merkillisellä
tavalla. En voi ymmärtää, mistä neiti Holladay on hänet saanut. Hän
on nähtävästi ranskalainen, puhuu selvällä ranskalaisella
korostuksella. Mitä rahoihin tulee, niin on kai parasta, että myymme
jonkun määrän Presbyterialaisen laitoksen osakkeita. Ne ovat hänen
arvopapereistaan vähimmän lupaavia.»

»Niin, minä arvelen samoin», yhtyi Royce; ja hänen kumppaninsa

antoi tarpeelliset määräykset.

Sen jälkeen hän ryhtyi toiseen työhön, ja päivä meni ilman, että
neiti
Holladaysta ja hänen asioistaan puhuttiin sen enempää.
 Rahat myydyistä osakkeista tulivat konttoriin seuraavan päivän
iltapäivällä pienessä sinetillä varustetussa käärössä, johon oli
merkittynä sisällys — sata tuhatta dollaria seteleissä. Graham
käänteli miettiväisenä sitä kädessään.

»Parasta on, että sinä lähdet viemään tätä sinne, John», sanoi
hän kumppanilleen. »Ja Lester voi seurata mukana.»

Royce pisti käärön taskuunsa, kutsuttiin ajuri, ja me lähdimme

matkaan.
Ei mitään tapahtunut matkalla, ja puolen tunnin kuluttua
pysähdyimme
Holladayn talon edessä.

Talo oli vanhanaikainen ruskea kivirakennus; se ei ollut enää

muodikkaimmassa kaupunginosassa, joka oli siirtynyt
keskuspuistoon päin, ja erilaatuisia myymälöitä alkoi tunkeutua
seutuun; mutta se oli ollut Hiram Holladayn kotina neljänkymmenen
vuoden ajan, eikä hän ollut koskaan halunnut muuttaa siitä. Tällä
hetkellä olivat kaikki ikkunaverhot alaslaskettuina ja talo näytti
autiolta. Menimme portaita ylös ovelle, ja heti soitettuamme sen
avasi nainen, jonka vaistomaisesti tunsin olevan uuden
kamarineidin, vaikka hän paljon vähemmän muistutti kamarineitiä
kuin vanhahkoa keskiluokan työläisnaista.

»Tulimme tuomaan rahoja, jotka neiti Holladay pyysi herra

Grahamilta eilen», sanoi Royce. »Minä olen John Royce, hänen
liikekumppaninsa.»

Vastaamatta mitään viittasi nainen meitä astumaan sisään.

 »Luonnollisesti meidän täytyy saada kuitti siitä», lisäsi päällikköni.
»Minulla on täällä sellainen valmiina, niin että emäntänne tarvitsee
vain kirjoittaa sen alle nimensä.»

»Neiti Holladay on liian sairas voidakseen ottaa teitä vastaan»,

sanoi kamarineiti lausuen huolellisesti sanansa. »Vien paperin
hänelle ja hankin allekirjoituksen.»

Royce epäröi hetkisen. Muistuttelin, missä olisin voinut kuulla

tämän äänen ennen. Jossakin, siitä olin varma — tämän vienon,
hillityn, sointuvan äänen. Äkkiä säpsähdin — muistin! Se oli neiti
Holladayn ääni silloin, kun hän nousi tervehtimään päällikköäni sinä
aamuna tutkinto-oikeuspaikassa! Mutta ei — työnsin luotani heti
sellaisen ajatuksen — sehän oli sulaa mielettömyyttä!

»Pelkään, että se ei käy päinsä», sanoi Royce vihdoin. »Summa

on suuri, ja se on minun jätettävä henkilökohtaisesti neiti Holladaylle
tämän todistajan läsnäollessa.»

Nyt oli kamarineidin vuoro epäröidä; näin hänen huulensa

puristuvan onnettomuutta ennustavalla tavalla.

»Kuten tahdotte», vastasi hän. »Mutta minä sanon teille jo

ennakolta, että emäntäni on hyvin hermostunut, ja hänen on kielletty
puhumasta.»

»Hänen ei tarvitse puhua», vastasi Royce lyhyesti. Mitään

vastaamatta nainen meni portaita ylös ja näytti tietä.

Neiti Holladay makasi taaksepäin nojautuneena syvässä

lepotuolissa kääre päässä, ja puolipimeässä, joka vallitsi huoneessa,
voin nähdä kuinka muuttunut hän oli. Hän näytti paljon laihemmalta
ja vanhemmalta ja ryki välistä tavalla, joka kauhistutti minua. Ei
ainoastaan murhe, ajattelin, ole voinut aikaan saada tätä surullista
muutosta; täytyi olla olemassa joku salaisuus, joka painoi häntä.

Seuralaiseni pani luonnollisesti myöskin merkille tämän

muutoksen — suuremman muutoksen ehkä kuin mitä voin nähdä —
ja näin kuinka hän säikähti ja tuli liikuttuneeksi.

»Paras neiti Holladay», aloitti hän, mutta neiti Holladay keskeytti

hänet pienellä käskevällä liikkeellä.

»Ei, ei!» kuiskasi hän käheästi. »Älkää puhuko!»

Hän vaikeni ja hillitsi itsensä. Kun hän uudelleen puhui, tapahtui se

kokonaan toisella äänellä.

»Minulla on rahat, joita olette pyytänyt», sanoi hän ja ojensi

käärön.

»Kiitos», jupisi hän.

»Haluatteko laskea ne?»

»Ei, sitä ei tarvitse!»

»Minulla on täällä kuitti», sanoi hän ja otti esiin täytekynän. »Olkaa

hyvä ja kirjoittakaa alle.»

Hän otti kynän vapisevin käsin, asetti kuitin lepotuolin käsinojan

päälle tarkistamatta sitä ja kirjoitti hitaasti ja vaivaloisesti nimensä.
Sitten nojausi hän taas taaksepäin helpotuksesta huokaisten ja sulki
kasvot käsiinsä.
 Royce pisti kuitin lompakkoonsa ja seisoi sitten hetkisen kahden
vaiheella. Mutta kamarineiti oli avannut oven ja odotti meitä. Hänen
emäntänsä ei antanut mitään merkkiä; ei ollut mitään veruketta
viipyä kauempaa; seurasimme siis palvelijaa.

»Neiti Holladay näyttää olevan hyvin sairas», sanoi Royce hiukan

vapisevalla äänellä, kun nainen pysähtyi meidän edessämme
alemmassa eteishuoneessa.

»Niin — hyvin.»

Taas sama ääni! Käytin tilaisuutta katsellakseni häntä tarkoin.

Hänen hiuksensa alkoivat todellakin harmaantua, hänen kasvonsa
olivat juovien uurtamat, joita juovia vain köyhyys ja huolet olivat
piirtäneet: ja kuitenkin kaiken tämän ohella kuvittelin voivani havaita
kalpean, mutta elävän yhtäläisyyden Hiram Holladayn tyttären
kanssa. Loin vielä kerran silmäyksen häneen — yhtäläisyys oli
heikko, epämääräinen — ehkäpä hermostoni oli ylenmäärin
kiihoittunut ja petti minua. Sillä miten oli mahdollista, että niin
voimakas yhdennäköisyys voisi olla olemassa?

»Hän on tietysti kysynyt neuvoa lääkäriltä?» kysyi Royce.

»Kyllä, tietysti.»

»Ja onko hän neuvonut nauttimaan lepoa ja rauhaa?»

»On.»

»Milloin lähdette maalle?»

»Huomenna tai ylihuomenna, luullakseni.»

 Royce kääntyi ovea kohti, mutta pysähtyi kahden vaiheella. Hän
avasi huulensa sanoakseen jotakin vielä — hänen levottomuutensa
pakoitti häntä siihen — mutta muutti sitten taas mielensä ja meni
ulos ovesta, jota nainen piti avoinna.

»Hyvästi», sanoi hän vakavasti. »Toivon, että neiti Holladay saa

hupaisen matkan.»

Ovi sulkeutui perässämme mennessämme portaita alas.

»Jenkinson on perheen lääkäri», sanoi hän. »Ajakaamme hänen

luokseen kuulemaan, kuinka sairas neiti Holladay oikein on. Olen
huolissani hänen puolestaan, Lester.»

»Se on hyvä ajatus», sanoin ja annoin ajurille osoitteen.

Tohtori oli kotona ja otti meidät heti vastaan.

»Tohtori Jenkinson», aloitti päällikköni ilman enempiä

valmisteluita, »olen John Royce toiminimestä Graham & Royce.
Otaksun teidän tietävän, että olemme neiti Frances Holladayn
lainopilliset neuvonantajat?»

»Kyllä», vastasi Jenkinson. »Hauska tehdä tuttavuutta, herra

Royce.»

»Luonnollisesti harrastamme hänen menestystänsä ja kaikkea

mikä häntä koskee, ja olen tullut tänne pyytämään teiltä muutamia
varmoja selityksiä hänen tilastaan? Haluaisimme tietää, tohtori,
kuinka sairas hän oikeastaan on?»

»Sairas», toisti Jenkinson nähtävästi kummastuen. »Onko hän

sairas?»
 »Eikö hän sitten ole teidän hoidossanne? Luulin teidän olevan
perheen lääkärin.»

»Niin minä olenkin», myönsi hän. »Mutta minä en ole nähnyt neiti
Holladayta kahdeksaan, neljääntoista päivään. Silloin hän oli aivan
terve, vähän hermostunut ehkä ja alakuloinen, mutta varmasti ei niin
paljon, että olisi tarvinnut lääkärinhoitoa. Hän on aina ollut
tavattoman vahva.»

Royce näytti hämmästyneeltä. Mitä minuun tulee, niin päässäni

meni kaikki ymmälle.

»Kerron teille kaikki», sanoi päällikköni vihdoin. »Haluaisin saada

teiltä neuvon.»

Sitten hän alkoi kiireesti kertoa kaikesta, mitä hän tiesi neiti
Holladayn sairaudesta, ja lopetti selonteolla käynnistämme hänen
luonaan, lisäten, että kamarineiti oli sanonut emäntänsä olevan
lääkärin hoidossa. Jenkinson kuunteli loppuun keskeyttämättä häntä,
mutta hän oli silminnähtävästi sekä ihmeissään että ikävissään.

»Ja sanotte, että hän näytti todellakin sairaalta?» kysyi hän.

»Niin, hyvin sairas minun kokemattomissa silmissäni,

huolestuttavan sairas. Hän näytti laihalta ja kuihtuneelta — voi tuskin
puhua.— ja millainen yskä hänellä oli! Tuskin tunsin häntä.»

Tohtori mietti taaskin vähän aikaa. Hän oli hyvin etevä lääkäri,
jonka hoidokkaiden joukkoon kuului monta huomattavaa henkilöä, ja
voin nähdä, että hän tunsi itsensä loukatuksi siitä, että oli turvauduttu
johonkin toiseen lääkäriin.
 »Luonnollisesti neiti Holladaylla on täysi vapautensa», sanoi hän
vihdoin, »kysyä neuvoa toiselta lääkäriltä, jos hän pitää sen
parempana.»

»Mutta olisiko se teidän mielestänne ollut uskottavaa?» kysyi

päällikköni.

»Kymmenen minuuttia sitten se olisi minusta näyttänyt

mahdottomalta», vastasi tohtori painolla. »Mutta naisethan muuttavat
helposti mieltänsä, kuten me lääkärit saamme suruksemme usein
kokea.»

Royce epäröi ja kävi suoraan asiaan.

»Tohtori Jenkinson», aloitti hän totisena, »eikö teistä olisi parasta

mennä neiti Holladayn luo — tiedätte, kuinka suuresti hänen isänsä
luotti teihin — ja vakuuttaa hänelle, että hän on hyvissä käsissä?
Myönnän, etten tiedä mitä minun on ajateltava, mutta pelkään, että
joku vaara uhkaa häntä. Ehkäpä hän on joutunut puoskarien käsiin.»

Jenkinson hymyili.

»Kehoitus etsimään lepoa ja hiljaisuutta näyttää kyllä sangen

viisaalta», sanoi hän, »ja on ristiriidassa sen kanssa mitä
puoskaroitsijat antavat.»

»Mutta sittenkin, eikö olisi parasta, että te itse näkisitte hänet?»

intti Royce.

Tohtori oli kahden vaiheella ja istui hetken aikaa naputtaen

sormillaan tuolinsa käsinojaan.
 »Se nyt ei olisi aivan ammattiarvon mukaista», sanoi hän vihdoin.
»Mutta voinhan tervehtiä häntä vanhana ystävänä. Hartauteni
perhettä kohtaan pitäisi olla riittävä tekosyy, arvelen.»

Roycen katse kirkastui, ja hän puristi sydämellisesti lääkärin kättä.

»Kiitos, tohtori!» sanoi hän lämpimästi. »Se vapauttaisi toiminimen

paljosta huolesta — puhumatta minusta mieskohtaisesti», lisäsi hän.

Jenkinson nauroi hyväntahtoisesti.

»Sen tiesin kyllä», sanoi hän. »Saammehan me lääkärit kuulla

kaikkea mahdollista kielittelyä. Ja tämä ilahduttaa minua todellakin.
Jos tahdotte odottaa minua täällä, niin lähden heti matkaan.»

Luonnollisesti suostuimme, ja hän kutsui vaununsa ja lähti.

»Vihdoinkin», sanoin, »saamme nähdä esiripun taakse, ehkäpä yksi
ainoa vilahdus olisi kylliksi luomaan valoa pimeyteen.» Mutta puolen
tunnin kuluttua tohtorimme palasi, ja silmäys hänen katseeseensa
ilmaisi minulle, että kohtalo oli taaskin sallinut meidän pettyä.

»Lähetin hänelle käyntikorttini», kertoi tohtori lyhyesti, »mutta neiti

Holladay käski hyvin yksinkertaisesti tervehtimään sanoen, että hän
ei voinut ottaa vastaan.»

Roycen katse synkkeni.

»Ja siinäkö oli kaikki?» kysyi hän.

»Ni-in! Luonnollisesti ei minulla ollut muuta valittavana kuin lähteä

tieheni. Niskoitteleminen oli mahdotonta.»

»Tietysti», myönsi toinen. »Mutta, tohtori, miten selitätte sen?»

 Jenkinson istui ja näytti vähän aikaa tutkivan maton kuvioita.

»Suoraan sanoen, herra Royce», sanoi hän vihdoin, »en minä

tiedä mitä ajatella. Todennäköisintä on, että neiti Holladay kärsii
jonkinlaista mielenhäiriötä — ehkäpä vain akuuttista, sellaista, joka
tavallisesti menee ohitse — mutta joka helposti voi kehittyä
vakavaluontoiseksi, niin, jopa pysyväksikin.»

Se ajatus oli herännyt minussakin, ja Roycen kasvojen ilmeestä

näin, että hänkin oli sitä ajatellut.

»Eikö ole mitään keinoa, jonka avulla voisimme saada varmuuden

asian tilasta?» kysyi hän. »Kenties hänet on pelastettava omasta
itsestään.»

»Hyvin mahdollista», myönsi tohtori päätään nyökäyttäen, »mutta

hän on täysi-ikäinen ja määrää itse mitä tekee. Ei ole olemassa
keitään sukulaisiakaan, jotka voisivat sekaantua asiaan — eikä edes
läheisiä ystäviä, sen kyllä tiedän. En näe mitään keinoa, jollette te
hänen lainopillisena neuvonantajanaan voi kääntyä viranomaisten
puoleen ja pyytää heiltä hänen mielentilansa tutkimista.»

Mutta Royce teki heti kieltävän liikkeen.

»Se on mahdotonta!» hän sanoi. »Meillä ei ole kerrassaan mitään

aihetta sellaisen askeleen ottamiseen. Se loukkaisi häntä
kuolettavasti.»

»Niin, se on selvää», tunnusti lääkäri. »Pelkäänpä, siis ettei tällä

hetkellä voida tehdä mitään, asia saa olla sellaisenaan, kunnes
jotakin varmempaa tapahtuu.»