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Nondescript—that would be a perfect way to describe this omega. From her tawny skin to dark hair and eyes, I wouldn’t be able to pick her apart from others in a crowd. She blended in even as she lay lifeless on the ground, wide and unmoving eyes staring towards the ceiling.
Her palm, stained with blood, remained outstretched towards the dagger that lay several feet away. The iron scent lingered in my nostrils, unwelcome.
“Your Majesty.” The doors to my chambers shuddered with the force of the guards’ pounding. “We’re coming in. Please, stand back.”
Their words were just a whisper behind the storm of my angered breaths. I knelt, ignoring the blossoming pool of blood on the tiles as I gently lifted the dagger.
It wore its age very well. The grip was made for someone with a smaller palm, but the dark green leather yielded under my fingers as I inspected it. The fabric was frayed along the edges, showing signs of constant but mindful use.
The blade, not more than five inches long, had been sharpened to a devious point and polished to a high shine.
If I had looked away for just a moment, or been distracted for a fraction of a second, the entirety of the dagger would have been buried in my throat.
How much time would have passed before someone noticed my absence? Enough for this duplicitous maid to put considerable distance between herself and the palace, making it impossible to track her.
I eyed the dagger again, turning it around in my fingers. The gold coating on the pommel and crosspiece suggested a background with more money than the commoners of Agnivale.
One thing was clear: this was no ordinary assassin acting on her own accord. I had no doubt that credit or gold had crossed palms in exchange for my death.
“Your Majesty?”
A swarm of royal guards was hovering over my shoulder, their shock and horror palpable through their scents. I ignored them, focusing on the enigma before me.
Something didn’t add up. The pieces of the puzzle weren’t gelling as they should, even though on the surface, they seemed to be laid out in perfect order.
Whytonight?Specificallyafterthe coronation? Why wait until I had been crowned to stick a dagger through me?
If someone was looking to be rid of me—and I had no doubt that many did—any night prior to the coronation would have been ideal.
But they had picked this one instead. Why?
Access.
It had to be. With our gates open to nobles and foreigners alike, it would have been easy to slip inside our walls with minimal trouble. On a busy evening, with most assigned to tasks that didn’t involve security, it would have been easy work for the assassin to make her way to my chambers and lie in wait for my return.
It shamed me to say I hadn’t noticed her meek form at first. She’d stood along the far wall like every other servant with her head bowed deferentially. Her scent had been mild and indistinguishable, and I wondered now if she had been using a scent masker to blend into the brickwork.
Two of the royal guards bent near the prone body, lifting one arm each for inspection. I waylaid them with a swipe of my fingers. The last thing I needed was for anyone to tamper with evidence that could lead me to the person who had ordered my death.
Sunlight broke over the horizon, flooding the chamber with the first streamers of orange light. The dawn brought with it an almost unbearable chill, wind whipping through the open windows with a high, blood-curdling whistle.
More than one person in the room flinched from the unexpected assault.
“Hell,” a guard cursed, reaching over to shut the large windows.
As he moved, the dappled sunlight bounced off the blade cradled in my palms, setting alight a little detail I had missed before in the dreary pre-dawn darkness.
There, at the base of the blade, was an insignia that had been wiped away with years of polishing. I angled the weapon closer to the light, squinting at the faded stamp.
Dread suffused my blood as the worn lines became clearer.
Two reeds entangled in their flight towards the sun.
Earth enchanters.
It made sense now. The puzzle pieces were shifting themselves, falling into place as the truth became clear.
A flame unlike any other sparked to life in my chest, burning bright as Olympia’s face flashed in my mind—soft lips and a smattering of freckles. Disarming, they were. Duplicitous and distracting, dragging me further away from the rivalry between our kingdoms. Making it much too easy to disregard lessons from our past.
