Chapter 2: The Palace

The seamstress shop sits on the corner of a brick building with a dim blue door. I approach, taking my time to reach the entryway. I’ve never had fancy gowns or attended a ball before. Most of my marks are ones I can reach in alleyways or dark bar corners. All I need for that is my cloak.

The king will be more difficult. I will have to blend in, look like a noble who belongs in silk gowns and glittering jewels to even get through the door.

I take a breath before turning the handle and stepping inside. The shop is filled with beautiful gowns from reds, blues, and purples to greens, yellows, and bright oranges. The silk is finer than anything I’ve ever owned.

I approach the first dress and lightly run my fingers down the fabric, stunned. Was it cut out for this?

“Hello, how can I help you?”

I turn to find a woman in a plain dress–at least, plain compared to her merchandise. She looks a little older, her dark hair mixed with strands of white. She smiles kindly but I can tell there is apprehension mixed in. I’m dressed in my usual black cotton gown with my cloak around me. I like dark colors. They make it easier to move through the night.

“Um, I’m Hera,” I tell her. “I’m supposed to choose a gown for the ball?”

“Ah, yes! Hera!” she grins. “Come in, child.”

She leads me through the dresses to a lounge area with a few chairs and a dressing room.

“I’m Madame Cicily,” she says as she gathers her tape measure and paper. “What color are you looking for, dear?”

“Uh, I hadn’t really thought about it,” I admit.

She looks up at me, studying me slowly from head to toe. “I think I have just the thing for you. Wait here, I will bring a few options for you to try.”

She disappears and I sink slowly onto one of the lounge chairs, waiting. She reemerges a moment later, carrying three dresses. The first is a deep green with intricate beading along the corset and black lace. The second is a royal purple, the corset woven with lace. And finally, the third is a midnight blue with beautiful golden threading.

“That one,” I say, pointing to the blue. It is my favorite color.

Madame Cicily helps me into the gown and directs me to the mirror.

I look stunning, the color complimenting my skin tone and fiery red hair. It’s revealing enough cleavage to seduce my way out of an unwanted situation while being modest enough to not gather too much attention.

Hopefully, it’s enough to capture the king.

“It’s perfect,” I say.

She grins, “I agree, you look stunning.”

She helps me out of the gown and takes my measurements.

“Come by Friday before the ball, I will help you dress and have shoes to match,” she tells me.

I smile, thank her, and bid her goodbye.

The next few days pass quickly. I review a plan with Althea, making sure she has it memorized. Once the job is done, I’ll send word and she will meet me at the docks where we will take the first ship out. At the same time, I will send word to Lucas who will meet us with my money and our papers.

I don’t care where we go, but after the king is dead, they will hunt his killer relentlessly. I have to disappear.

Friday comes too quickly. I hug Althea tightly and head to the seamstress.

Madame Cicily helps me dress in the gown, hands me matching shoes, and does my hair. When I look in the mirror, I’m unrecognizable. She’s done my hair half up, half down, the curls sitting gracefully on my head as the rest cascades down my back.

Beneath the dress is a dagger strapped to my thigh, one snug between my breasts, and a third strapped to my ankle hidden by my skirts.

I just need to get in, capture the king’s attention, get him alone, and slit his throat, then get out. Easy, right?

Madame Cicily orders me a carriage–an instruction sent from my patron, no doubt. I climb inside and travel to the palace. It doesn’t take long to arrive but by the time I step out, the sun has set and darkness has enveloped the sky.

I join the line of nobles and royals filing into the palace. At the door, I present my invitation to the guard. He barely glances at it as he waves me in.

Well, now for the hard part.

I follow the line of people leading to the grand ballroom.

I refrain from dropping my jaw. The ballroom is beautiful, the ceiling absurdly high with golden columns and marble floors. Nobles are dancing in the center of the room, their gowns flashing colors I’ve never seen before.

On the far side of the room sits the throne and the king.

I take a moment to move closer, studying him as I slip through the crowd.

He is more handsome and young than I expected, his hair dark as night. On his head, slightly tilted, sits his golden crown, glimmering in the light of the hall. He is well built, and although his clothes aren’t especially tight, it’s a little too easy to see the physique beneath.

D*mn. I was going to enjoy seducing this one.

I step into line behind the nobles introducing themselves to the king. Finally, it’s my turn.

I move up and bow, leaning forward slightly so that the king can glimpse my chest.

“Your Majesty,” I say, rising. I gaze up through my eyelashes, smiling at him.

I’m not surprised to find him staring. but am surprised by the heat of his gaze.

Unfortunately, I won’t have time for a quick f*ck before I finish the job. Focus, Hera.

“I don’t know you,” the king says, his voice as silky as my dress. I suppress a shiver.

“You wouldn’t, your majesty. I am traveling and not from here,” I smile at him.

“What’s your name?”

“Aurora Dracor, highness,” I say. It’s the name I use when on the job, and it’s simple enough that it’s pretty malleable.

He’s silent for a moment, letting his gaze wander along my body. I let him look. The more he looks and wants, the easier it will be to get him alone.

“My lady Aurora, will you dance with me?” he stands and comes down the steps, standing in front of me and offering his hand.

I act shy but place my hand in his, letting him lead me to the dance floor.

Men are too predictable.

The next dance is a waltz, and we fall into step beside the other dancers. I can hear their whispers and feel their gazes on me as King Ambrose guides me around the dance floor.

“How long are you here, Aurora?” he asks me.

I can feel the heat from his body, his chest close to mine. My hand is on his upper arm, my fingers enjoying the hard muscle beneath. He sure is a specimen to be reckoned with.

“As long as you’d like, Your Majesty,” I say sweetly.

He smirks. I have the impression he sees through my façade, although he’s made no move to stop playing along.

“Do you ask all the ladies to dance?” I ask.

“You’re the first.”

“Ever?” I say, surprised. Wow, I’d have to thank Madame Cicily profusely for the dress.

“I’m always being introduced to daughters and ladies, but yes, you’re the first I’ve asked to dance,” he tells me. His gaze is on me, his eyes a deep gold.

It’s a bummer his first was here to kill him.

I allow him to dance with me through two more songs before feigning tiredness.

“Is there perhaps somewhere we can go, your majesty? So that I can rest with a little more privacy?”

He hesitates, but after the second song, most of the prying eyes have turned away. He gives in. I feel electricity surge through me as his hand connects with mine, leading me deeper into the shadows of the palace.