Snippet #1729992

There was a swirling mist in the morning air which was slowly burning off, but Ember decided to take advantage of it while he could. It was something of a gift; his ability to blend into his surroundings seamlessly, and the thick mist was making his job that much easier. He was wearing his everyday attire. The armor he usually wore on his jobs would stick out like a sore thumb in the daylight, but his gear was waiting in his pack for when it was time to get the job done. At this moment, all he had to do was watch. Watch his intended target; study her movements so that he could pick the right time and the right way to strike. This particular job had many aspects which would prove more difficult than most, and Ember had to exercise the appropriate amount of caution. One couldn’t just waltz into the castle and murder the world’s most beloved princess. No, he would have to choose his moment carefully.

The castle was breathtaking and glorious, if you enjoyed that sort of thing. It was easy to see how much power and gold the royal family possessed just by looking at the place they called home. Not only was it enormous, it was built so extravagantly that it was abundantly clear that taste wasn’t a factor. The castle was one big showy display of wealth for the entire kingdom to see. There was one aspect of the castle which was truly beautiful though, and that was the gardens. Beautiful plants and trees, both domestic and exotic, were arrayed in the most glorious fashion. It was like stepping into another, much more magical world when you walked through those gardens, and it took Ember’s breath away. Of course, there was no time to dwell on such beauty, and Ember made his way through the gardens and toward the castle swiftly. He’d been through the castle grounds on a few other occasions. Once, there was a foreign ambassador staying at the castle that Ember was paid extremely well to kill, so he knew the lay of the land, at least. He sneaked passed two guards and hid himself in a bush growing alongside the castle wall. Once there, Ember pulled out the slip of paper Charles had given him at the tavern the previous night. The name was still there, written in blood red ink: Freya Midir. He turned the sheet of parchment over to reveal a map of the castle. An “X” marked the spot of the princess’s quarters. Unsurprisingly, there were several stories up. Of course they royals couldn’t have made it easy on him and choose to have their quarters on the ground floor. It looked like he was going to be doing some wall scaling.

Ember sighed and tucked the map away. He looked around. Scaling the wall of the castle in bright daylight was not the smartest or easiest move, but if he was going to get any reconnaissance done, he was going to have to risk it. Lucky for him, everything seemed to be quiet. As long as he didn’t make too much noise, the chances were slim that any of the guards would think to look up. Also lucky for him was the fact that moving silently was one of his strong suits as well. He grabbed on to the sturdy vines which crawled up the castle stone and hoisted himself forward. About halfway to his destination, he heard voices coming from above. Now was not the time to stop and listen, as he was still in plain sight for anyone with the inclination to look up to see, but it did make him pause long enough for the momentum he had going to cease. His foot slipped, and he felt the bottom half of his body to fall out from under him. Ember clung tightly to the vines with both his hands and managed to stop himself from falling to his death, but the slip was loud enough for those above him to hear if they had been listening. Ember repositioned himself on the wall and listened. He waited for someone to walk out on to the balcony above to investigate the noise, but no one did. The voices—they were all female—continued without pause, and it seemed that Ember was safe. Inwardly, he cursed himself for being so reckless, but continued up the wall. He reached the balcony and swung himself over noiselessly, darting immediately behind a marble statue which covered him fully.

“My, your Highness, what a beautiful flower!” he was in time to hear. Well, he had the right place, at least, even if he had done a rather poor job in getting to it. He continued to listen as they all chattered away; surprised that none of the voices seemed to belong to Princess Freya. Her ladies in waiting gossiped about meaningless dribble, and, just as Ember was beginning to grow bored, there was some sort of commotion. Ember chanced craning his neck around the statue to get a look at what was going on. The princess seemed to have injured herself in some way. Then he saw her. She looked different from how he’d imagined. She was beautiful; glorious even, but that was to be expected. There were stories of her beauty which reached far and near; stories about how the Crown Prince fell in love with her at first sight. Ember could well believe it. This was not how she differed from the image in his imagination, though. The difference was in her manner, and her attitude. She did not seem like the rest of the royals. She did not have the same tinges of pride in her eyes, nor did she chatter away with the same mindless enthusiasm of her ladies in waiting. She sat there, and her mind seemed to be far away. The look on her face was one he’d seen on himself when looking in the mirror: it was grief. The princess was grieving for some reason unknown to him. Something about that look told Ember that the stories of how Freya had fallen in love with the prince were somewhat exaggerated. This didn’t surprise him.

Perhaps that was why she had to die.

Ember continued to look at the princess as she wiped the blood from her finger. His heart leaped as her head then began to move in his direction. He moved before she could see him. He had the fleeting wish that she had seen him. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to kill her. Something about that look he’d seen on her face made him wish he hadn’t agreed to take this job. But it was too late.

Ember moved swiftly to the other side of the balcony. The room it led to was the princess’s private chambers. He would find a place to lie low in there, change into his assassin armor, and when she decided to retire, he would be waiting.