Soren
I’ve been preparing for this moment. I have one shot, in reality, to do this and succeed. The palace of Moonrise is a fortress–heavily guarded and an absolute maze within, but I’m an expert in my trade, so to speak.
The brown delivery uniform doesn't fit well, but it has to work. I try to keep my shoulders relaxed so I don’t burst through the fabric as I hike the steps to the main entrance of the clinic on the far, backside of the palace while the sun sets over the lake in the distance. Music from the festival continues, never ceasing, not in the week since it began. It’s the perfect cover. The chaos in the city square just outside the palace walls has been keeping the guards busy and distracted, which means the clinic is quiet and nearly empty as I skirt inside. A long, circular front desk is manned by only one witch in a starched, white nurse’s uniform. She looks up from a tablet, smiling faintly at me as I move toward the counter, reaching up to adjust the brown ball cap that matches the horrendous uniform I stuffed myself into an hour ago before setting out on foot.
“Evenin’,” I tell her, leaning my elbow on the counter as she scans my face, my wry, charming smile. “My truck’s parked outside. I’m supposed to deliver a few crates to the kitchen.”
“Well, this is the clinic,” she says with a laugh.
“I understand, but I’m a trainee, and the guy who was supposed to be with me today called in sick, so I’m on my own. I couldn’t get around front, you know, with the festival going on.”
She sighs knowingly, nodding. I wait for her to ask the questions I’m mostly prepared to answer, like who I work for, if she can see my badge, if I have royal clearance to enter the castle, etc. She slides a piece of paper in my direction and clicks a pen, her light brown eyes meeting mine. She taps her pen on the desk. I give her my best, most dazzling smile, and she folds. Melts like butter.
“There’s a gate just around the corner. Just punch in these numbers, and it’ll open for you. You can back right in. The loading dock for the kitchen is to the left. The princess had her dinner early tonight and let the staff go to attend the festival, so if the loading dock is locked, there’s a door to the right of it, and this is the code for that…” She scribbles a series of numbers. “Someone’s likely still working because we have patients staying overnight, so most of us are pulling overnight shifts.”
“Overnight shifts, huh?” I smile, forcing my cheeks to burn with a blush as I ask, “When do you get off, then?”
Now she’s blushing, too. Perfect. “Hopefully soon.”
“I have two more deliveries after this.” I lean against the counter, smiling down at her. “Are you gonna be here? Maybe I can grab you something to eat? Or a coffee?”
She bites her lip, her eyes narrowing in a slightly seductive look that would make a normal, hot-blooded man know he has it in the bag. She reaches for the phone currently ringing off the hook and slides it up to her ear while keeping her eyes on me. I back away, winking at her as I tuck the piece of paper in my chest pocket and turn for the door, that practiced, charming expression fading in a single heartbeat.
It was almost too easy. Takes the fun out of it, if I’m being honest.
I don’t have a truck full of deliveries, of course. I don’t have a truck at all. I hike back down the steps and follow her directions, punching the code into a gate that’s, thankfully, not guarded, keeping my head bowed against the soft, flickering red light of several cameras. I already know the king and queen aren’t here. I stood in the curious crowd watching the princess say goodbye to her sister at the train station earlier this evening, confirming Princess Brie–now the Luna Queen of Emberfyll, wherever the hell that is–has also left.
Princess Maeve is alone. I know that for a fact. I know because I’ve been purposefully going to the bars and restaurants frequented by the highest ranking staff of the castle–those closest to the princess–infiltrating their circles and gathering information.
This wasn’t something I cooked up in a week. No, it’s been weeks. Months. Maybe even years spent plotting my final job.
At least, I keep telling myself that it’s my final one.
The nurse was correct about the loading dock being locked for the night, but it doesn’t matter for me. One last code gets me into the castle where I immediately duck into a storage room, shed my stolen uniform, and slip on my black gloves. I flex my hands once or twice, and within a blink, dark, shadowy armor covers my entire body. Don’t ask me how I got these gloves because the story is long and complicated, but they’re the most important piece of gear I own.
I pull my usual black mask out of the pocket of my discarded pants and slip it over my eyes, then move like a shadow through the quiet, lowest level of the castle. It’s a maze of servants' hallways, small personal apartments and suites used by the staff, and rooms dedicated to cooking, cleaning, laundry, and whatever else these spoiled royals need.
I take the first staircase I come across and climb two stories, popping out in one of the hallways that runs adjacent to the main, luxurious hallways used by the royals and their guests. I’m on the third floor now, I believe. I hope. Because I need to find one more staircase leading up to the fourth floor to officially enter the private wings of the castle used by the royal family without having to break into the private wing on the first floor, which I’d tried and failed the night of the ball.
A door opens along the hallway, and a pair of maids step out. I take a silent step into the shadows, blending into the darkness. They chat back and forth as they carry baskets of laundry, turning for the same staircase I just exited, but by the grace of the Goddess Herself, they don’t see me.
It was too close of a call. I check my watch. I gave myself an hour to get in, and out, and I’ve already wasted twenty minutes. The guards work in shifts, patrolling not only the main corridors bathed in gold but the servants' hallways, as well. They break for an hour this time of day before a new set of guards moves in. I have forty minutes. That’s it. If I’m caught, it’s likely a death sentence, and I really don’t want to kill anyone tonight–especially myself.
I move, holding my breath while relying on vague details from a story I overheard at a pub in Old Moonrise about some staff member fucking another one in this hallway. He’d mentioned they’d closed themself in “the stairwell to the fourth floor,” which caused a ruckus at the table I was spying on because of how close they’d come to getting caught…. But I’d been thinking about how easy it would have been to just climb those stairs and be surrounded by wealth in a matter of seconds.
I check every door, finding more storage rooms, a few closets, nothing of substance until I reach the very end of the hallway, and an open door beckons, the darkened stairwell leading to my freedom coming into view.
“Thank fuck.” I hiss, already sweating in the Ghost issued armor. A door down the hall behind me opens with a crack, but I’m already at the top of the stairs when voices drift my way. I slip through the door at the very top of the stairwell and step into an ornately decorated, but shadowed, corridor lined with antique furniture and vases full of fresh flowers.
Ceiling height windows run along the far wall, giving me a startling view of the festival taking place below. Six crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling but cast no light. No, the only light comes from the flickering, gem-like glow of the festival beyond the gates.
It’s not even midnight. I’d expect a twenty-two-year old woman to be up later than this, especially someone like Maeve. Someone who creeps through the night, scheming, plotting, misbehaving in general.
But what do I even know about her? More than I’d like, I think.
I know she likes chamomile tea with enough honey to drown out the taste. I know she drinks black coffee from cheap diners and spends a whole hell of a lot of time standing aimlessly in the rain, like an idiot, out in the open with no guards, no one to protect her. I know she uses her magic on strangers. I know she puts herself in harm's way with no regard about how valuable she’d be if she fell into the wrong hands.
I hope she’s still as dumb as she was when I first encountered her all those years ago, and so far, my suspicions are correct. I move through the hallways like a phantom, encountering no guards, no maids, no one…
Until I turn a sharp corner and soft footsteps make me halt my progress to her private apartments immediately.
I sidestep into the shadow of an alcove shielded by two heavy, red velvet curtains.
“I think you should go to the festival with him,” the princess says to her companion. “He’s just obsessed with you, Jane.”
“He’s not obsessed.” Jane, whoever she is, clears her throat. “He asked me because he feels sorry for me. It was probably a joke. He probably thought I’d say yes, and then he’d have the chance to laugh at me.”
“Jane, for fuck’s sake, he likes you. I can see it in his eyes. Just go with him tonight. There’s a concert, and you’re missing it!”
“Why aren’t you going to the concert? Shouldn’t you be out enjoying the festivities held in your honor?”
“You know the people of Moonrise use any excuse to throw a festival. I am, actually, looking forward to sitting in the library alone and reading something other than dusty books about history and law, for once. The kitchen maids gave me some rather spicy recommendations for romance novels.”
Jane giggles as their shadows pass my alcove. Princess Maeve walks side by side with a dainty little woman in a maid’s uniform and absolutely towers over her. Dark, thick brown hair is pulled back away from her face as the princess passes within feet of me, but she doesn’t pause, or even look over shoulder.
My eyes drift down to the tight, black shorts she’s wearing. She’s barefoot, too, her arms and stomach covered by a sweatshirt that looks like it’s made for someone five times her size.
Such a strange woman. This–this creature of flame, of untamed power–wearing a sweatshirt and shorts, will be our queen in a month's time.
“Are you sure you don’t want company tonight?”
“I really don’t. I do love your company, though, but I know you’re sick of me.” She nudges Jane’s arm. The maid’s head barely reaches Maeve’s shoulder. I’ve never seen a woman so tall, in fact. She has to be close to six feet, if she hasn’t surpassed that already.
“I’m never sick of you,” Jane says with a little squeak, her voice fading as they turn the corner, “You just stress me out, that’s all.”
Princess Maeve’s laugh is… melodic. I banish the warmth spreading through my chest as I step back into the darkened hallway, my heart hammering, and continue to move toward the private apartment where the princess keeps her valuables.
That’s what I’m here for. Not for her. I’m not that kind of man. She’s useless to me, but her jewels aren’t, and when I reach the wide double doors of her private rooms, I slip a pin out of my pocket and pick the lock with ease, slipping inside unseen.
Again, this is far too easy, but I have mere minutes before the second night shift starts, and new guards begin their patrol.
The princess’s rooms are immaculate and smell like magnolia–a sharp, deep, almost heady floral scent that makes my mind spin as I ignore my surroundings and head directly to her bedroom. My contact was correct about the princess leaving her gems out all over her rooms. I pocket bracelets, necklaces, and a few rings within the first thirty seconds I spend picking over her vanity. Two tiara’s rest on top of her dresser, which is a mess of little knick knacks and pictures that I ignore. I’m not here to spy on her. I’ve never needed to spy on her. Those two times we were in the same place at the same time had been odd coincidences, nothing more.
In fact, the second time felt more like she was the one spying on me, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it at all.
My watch beeps in warning, alerting me that I have ten minutes to finish up and get the hell out of here. I open drawers in her bathroom, pocketing heavy diamond earrings and another ruby necklace. Finished, my pockets full and the black bag I brought along now bursting at the seams, I move through her apartment, but then come to a halt. A shadow moves near to the floor, snaking between the legs of an armchair.
That fucking cat again.
“Well, well,” I sigh as the white cat stares at me from across the sitting room. I glance at the door, which I purposefully left ajar, wanting easy access back to the main hallway. “Nice to see you… again.”
The cat just stares at me with those big, greenish-blue eyes, but it has a collar on. A huge diamond dangles from it, catching the moonlight drifting from the window directly above it.
I lick my lips, wondering if the cat bites, because I’m taking that collar, too.
Being bitten is a risk I’m willing to take. I walk toward it, expecting it to run away, and I really don’t want to have to chase it. It sits completely still as I crouch and reach along its fluffy neck, unclasping the golden chain. I resist the urge to sneeze as I hold up the collar, smiling down at the cat. “I’ll be taking this.”
It lets out a low growl.
“Pleasure doing business with you.” I smirk, giving the feline a wink, and slip the collar into the nearly invisible pocket on my chest.