It was a struggle to leave my bed the next morning and one I almost lost. I toyed with the lie that the absense of one servant would not be noticed during this troublesome period. I played it through my mind right up until the point where Arianna had me escorted from the grounds and then with a sigh I threw the covers back. That wasn't the end of it though. It was an effort to swing my legs around, stand on two unsteady feet and dress my body and hair. Which looked a mess. I scrunched my face up and started again.
Breakfast with the servants was a quiet affair and after I had eaten, I retreated to the royal breakfast hall, ready to wait on any of the siblings. I expected to see Arianna there first as Sandor so often forgot to eat and the other sisters were less inclined to rise early. I was not to be disappointed. I thought perhaps she looked a little pale.
"How are you keeping?" I asked tentatively. To remark on her appearance would probably come across as rude and she'd be particularly unhappy if she didn't want anyone to think her ill.
"Have any of the others been down yet?" Arianna asked, sweeping my question aside. I shook my head gently.
"No, your highness. Would you like to wait for them?" I aimed for a tone that was both demure and respectful and wondered if Ari knew me well enough to recognise the signs. Retreating. Closing off. Doing everything I could to protect my sanity without losing my position. My life. I knew no other so I knew that however unsavoury it got, I didn't want to leave.
Marie looked just as exhausted as Arianna felt, and looking at the table, she only felt even worse. There were times when the five of them had sat with their mother here laughing and drinking deep bowls of chocolate every morning. Now her mother was in a coma. One brother was dead. One sister had tried to kill her. The other sister, she was forbidden to approach. And the other brother wasn't really a brother at all.
Though really, Arianna thought with a sigh, he was the only one she still had. And Casilda, she supposed, but then she had never much liked her little sister, she was so clingy, so desperate to be included in the others' doings.
"No," she repeated, sipping her tea. "I suppose I have a funeral to arrange, don't I? Goodness." She sat back. "You know, I always thought the first state funeral I would have to prepare would be my mother's."
That didn't exactly sound good, but Marie barely lifted an eyebrow. After all, that was how the old Arianna would have acted.
Old Arianna, new Arianna. Weren't they just the same person? There had been no great change over her, no matter how she tried to convince herself. Only some strange emotion, part guilt, part grief. When Derrick was buried, she would be over that. Her mother was at death's door, it was only a matter of time... Lady Popplewell was to speak for her on the Council. She would be queen, and the world would be right once more.
With a pang she thought of her and Sandor laughing the night before. But then, when had he ever been on her side? When had any of them? The most loyal person she had with her was Marie, and that wasn't saying much. She didn't trust that Vivian girl as far as she could throw her, but that was the way with assassins. Arianna was entirely alone. If it was because she had pushed people away, that was merely a detail. If she was alone, she would act alone.
And that began with Derrick's funeral.
"Come on, Marie," she said- because that small loyalty was nothing, she guessed, worth throwing away lightly. "Let's go and see to the body."
"Stella. You were in my dream the other night. And everyone called you Princess." -Lauren2010
The injured assassin cracked open an eye at the sound of his name and surreptitiously looked to the door. It really was Sandor, thank the heavens! The old man with his bony, prodding fingers was nowhere in sight, either, and the heavens were doubly thanked. If Garis never had to pretend sleep again to escape Old Illnessbane's fussing, he would die a happy man.
But he couldn't seem too happy to see Sandor; that'd be suspicious. So instead of exclaiming his commander's name with great and obvious relief, Garis settled for groggily groaning, "Sandor? Is that you?" and covering his eyes with his arm.
"Yes." Well somebody was sounding a bit grumpy as they staggered towards the assassin's bedside to take a seat. "I thought you prided yourself on recognizing people without needing to see them."
"My head hurts." And it did, but not as much as when Ilgard was around and yammering about anything and everything.
"Deal with it. We need to talk about Derrick." Was it just Garis, or was Sandor actually not as harsh as usual? Still, it wouldn't hurt to take precautions...
Garis jerked upright, but quickly doubled over in pain; broken ribs were so inconvenient. "Please no more punching!" he gasped. "I didn't kill him, really! The drug should be wearing off sometime--"
"Last night."
"What?" Garis looked up at Sandor, his eyes wide in surprise.
"Derrick woke up last night. He's at the Dancer right now."
"Then you got him out of the crypt safely? That's a relief," he said, relaxing and leaning on Sandor for support.
Sandor stiffened and didn't answer. Oh dear.
"You didn't get him out of the crypt?"
"..." Oh dearie dear.
Garis buried his face in Sandor's shoulder and groaned, "If not you, then who?"
The older man did not sound happy as he replied, "Vivian."
"Who?"
"That woman. The other assassin."
"Oh. So that's her name." Garis mused on it for a moment. "Suits her."
Sandor gently took a hold of the assassin's shoulders and pushed him back to regard him, the peculiar expression on his commander's face making Garis wonder, What did I say...?
She slipped back into the palace right as the guards were changing. Finding the other princess' room, Rosalie, might be a bit of a task. But if she walked along the halls enough she was bound to find some clue as to where it was eventually. But with any luck, she'd see them walking to breakfast.
And Lady Luck was indeed with her. By the time she'd reached the hallway connecting to Arianna and Derrick's rooms, the late-rising nobles were just beginning to leave their rooms. She joined in with the crowd, weaving between taller men to try and catch a head of blonde hair in the crowd.
Vivian waited on the outskirts of the breakfast hall, walking around the room and pretending to be looking for a seat. Thankfully her clothing, a burgundy velvet dress with a gold belt for her needles and her gold necklace for opening windows, fit in with the rest of the crowd's semi-lavish attire. The sea of dark and black clothing didn't help her case, any flash of colour would be noticed like a swan amongst ducks, but vanishing shouldn't be too problematic.
Finally. The young features and blonde hair of Rosalie came into view. Now it was just a mater of keeping the girl in sight until she went back to her room. Not a prayer Vivian was risking a kill in open view.
It was a simple case of staying out of sight and sitting at an out of the way table. Idle smalltalk, an old debt cashed in as she said who her father was, pretending that prince Derrick was still dead. But once the princess left Vivian excused herself from the group of nobles that had gathered around the spark of conversation and followed her.
Room found, Vivian checked the halls to make sure nobody was around. It was a risk walking in through the front door, but Rosalie might be gone from her rooms by the time Vivian found the right window. And Vivian had never been patient.
She knocked, carefully. At the princess' sudden "come in" she opened the door, closing and locking it behind her, turning to the princess with a smile.
Rosalie's eyes widened upon seeing her. "Who... who are you?"
"Expecting a maid?" she said smoothly, beginning to walk closer to the chair she princess sat on. "But it doesn't mater. I simply come with an offer."
Rosalie gulped. "What if I don't want to hear it?"
Vivian sat in the chair in front of the princess. Just within reach to clamp a hand over her mouth and prick her within a second. "Do you want to live?"
A writer is a world trapped in a person— Victor Hugo
Ink is blood. Paper is bandages. The wounded press books to their heart to know they're not alone.
Rosalie blinked. What kind of a question was that? And from some person that she didn't know? Rosalie wondered if the woman was joking. Maybe she was some maid had heard about what was going on at the palace and decided to make her boring job a little more fun. But she doubted it. Ari knew that Rosalie had double-crossed her. Maybe the others--Sandor, Casilda, were becoming aware of this too. And on top that, the woman was so serious, and had such and intense, cold look in her eye.
Rosalie gulped and scooted a little backward. "Yes," she said, trying not to sound like a desperate fool. "Yes, I want to live. I'll do anything."
All our dreams can come true — if we have the courage to pursue them. -- Walt Disney
“You are not thinking about her the way I think you are thinking about her.”
The man had the audacity to look confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Riiight. The innocent act only held so well, and he liked to think he had some practice seeing through it. It was probably best to let it drop: subordinate or not, Garis was prone to going against whatever he said, voluntarily or not, and he wasn’t going to do anything that’d make it more likely for his assassin to see her again. It took some effort to stop the territoriality from turning into anger, but channeling it off for later was not an altogether uncommon practice. He’d keep it nice and bottled for when he stumbled on the woman again.
Breathe. Dropping Garis’ shoulders and the maybe kinda sorta jealous look that might have stolen over his features for an instant, he was then reminded that an injured Garis was a touchy one as the man complacently dropped back against him, half-sprawled on the bed and half-propped up on him.
Kind of like Casie’s hugs, except a lot looser but just as demanding, in a slightly different manner. Or he was just projecting. Again.
Garis had to make everything complicated, didn’t he.
“Where’s Ilgard?”
A groan. “As long as he’s not here, I don’t care.”
...if he was well enough to whine, he was well on his way to recovery. Good enough for Sandor, though he would prefer it if he could keep an eye on him at all times. Or have Ilgard around, since the old man was certainly the best way to get a patient to stay put, bar putting said patient in a high-security cell and tying him down to the bed.
Which might be a tad overkill.
So. One person alive.
Perhaps it was time to go check on the others. Given how his sisters had been going at it, that either of them had gotten killed during the night would have come to absolutely no surprise, though the lack of mass panic seemed reasonable indication it wasn’t the case.
And Derrick was still safe. Hopefully. He couldn’t possibly have gotten killed in the fifteen minutes it’d taken him to get here, could he?
No. Safe.
This felt like the best day he’d had in a while. Kind of sad, really, but he’d take what he could.
Now he had to keep it that way.
Which did mean getting out of this room and making sure his dear siblings weren’t out for more blood. Which also implied getting Garis off him and explaining to him once again that please do not go waltzing off again and for the love of all that is good and holy in this world don’t get hurt please do it for me or I’m going to kick your ass.
Five minute and some whining later, that was done.
That he lingered at the door for perhaps a moment or two more was of no consequence at all.
Now to find Casie. Ari and Rosie might come, but later. Priorities.
Lumi: they stand no chance against the JAG SAFETY BLANKET
She smiled at the princess' suppressed signs of fear. "I hear there's been quite the... upset in the palace. What with you trying to kill Arianna and Derrick." Her smile widened at the dumbstruck look on Rosalie's face. Before the girl could utter a protest, she said, "Don't ask how I know."
"What is it you want, then?" Rosalie said, trying to sound like the collected person Arianna was. She almost reached it.
Vivian laced her fingers together. "Maybe, if you went after Casilda first, the security wouldn't tighten quite as quickly. Then your plans could be carried out just, slightly, easier." Why Garis hadn't figured this out, she wasn't sure. Perhaps laying the blame on the younger sisters would have been easier, in his mind. She smiled. It simply left more space for her. "I could do this for you."
Rosalie jumped on the opening Vivian had left on purpose. "I've already hired somebody to deal with my sister."
"He's out of commission," the assassin said in a dangerously low whisper, smile taking on a cold-blooded edge. "I took care of him."
The princess' eyes widened. "Alright, alright, you can take care of her. And the whole job."
"At the same payment?" Vivian asked, too-sweet smile on her lips. Time to find out how rich the other assassin's blood was.
A vigorous nod was her answer. "Yes, money is no object."
Vivian got up. "Good. I'll see you once Casilda has been dealt with." Or, if her plan was to work properly, once Casilda looked like she was dealt with. The assassin flashed Rosalie a parting smile, eyes twinkling. "Don't worry about finding me."
With that, she slipped out of the room.
A writer is a world trapped in a person— Victor Hugo
Ink is blood. Paper is bandages. The wounded press books to their heart to know they're not alone.
There had been no great change in Arianna then, already she could quip about her brother's death. It brought a clogging, choking lump to my throat just to think about it but I swallowed that down like too much bad gruel. Should I be so surprised? No. It wasn't as if I were any different either, I was grieving but my character itself was yet unchanged. Still the steady, reliable Marie with my inner bite and strength. Really it should be a good sign. The lack of change in Arianna should clear her name, afterall, no woman, no matter how cruel, could take a brother's life without destroying her own. And Arianna wasn't cruel, not always. It had to be hard growing up with such a burden on your shoulders. So hard.
It felt wrong that time should pass so quickly. How long had it been now? Three days, four? I didn't know anymore but with every day that passed I could see Arianna readying herself to take control. Next it was the funerals which would be extravagant but tasteful, graceful. Then the council meeting and then the crowning. I expected it would be a week now, two tops. Then I would be serving the queen. A queen I had always expected to serve. Except for a few days. A few short, sweet days full of so many surprises, some pleasant, some not.
"Yes, your highness," I said mechanically and followed her out of the room. I left a reasonable distance between us though that pained me. It would have been nice to touch her shoulder just once and say I knew how she felt, that I knew what she was going through. I knew how well that would go down though.
"How do you feel about white lilys? I was going to order them for my mother's funeral anyway." Arianna's tone was not exactly light but I was sure she cared about the flowers as little as I did.
"A good idea," I said. "Will you wait and hold the funerals together?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Might I inquire as to your next intentions? Will you support Sandor's investigation?" What it was which made me so bold I can not say. I was thinking of Derrick at the time and how easily I could express myself around him. Perhaps that was why the words came out so bluntly. There was a moment of hesitation on her part but this was smoothly covered as we entered the crypt. I was to take her silence as a respect for her late brother.
We descended the steps in a continued state of quiet and I prepared myself to see him again. I had not been down to pay my respects, not since that first day. Too quickly we were at the bottom but before I raised my eyes to the stone pedastal, a sharp intake of breath from Arianna caught my attention. I looked up, searching for what might have disturbed her. It didn't take much searching.
"Marie," Arianna said in a very steady tone. The sort of steady tone you should always pay close attention to. "Do my eyes deceive me or is there no body in this crypt?"
Casilda would be interesting to find. She hadn't been at breakfast— but from the time talking to Rosialie had taken there was a good chance the youngest princess would be at breakfast or just leaving.
Vivian kept her eyes on connecting hallways, hoping to catch a flash of the girl walking down the hall. Or, alternatively, Arianna. At one point during the day Vivian would have to go to the eldest. If only to prove she had actually been watching.
A flash of blonde made her nearly turn on her heel. Only the groups of nobles walking down the hall prevented her. A quick duck into the shadows of another hallway and she could track her latest target. But Casilda wouldn't die just yet. Not if Vivian expected payment for Rosialie.
And deep down, Rosialie was top priority. And if payment was offered for killing her Vivian was not about to refuse. But, living was another priority and getting paid twice would be welcome.
"Good morning, Casilda," Vivian said when nobody was around.
Casilda spun. "Did you kill her yet?"
Vivian's smile faltered. Did this girl not know the meaning of quiet? "Not yet. I learned that something... extra, would be needed."
The girl's eyes twinkled. "What?"
"There's a plot against your life," Vivian whispered, leading Casilda down the hall. "If you pretend to be ill, then you won't be as large a target."
Casilda stopped. "Were you the one ordered to kill me?"
Vivian chuckled. "Even if I was, I'm certainly keeping you safe. Since you did hire me, after all."
The girl was still weary. "I can just pretend to be sick."
"It will be much more convincing," Vivian said, pulling out one of her needles, "if you have some real sickness behind that." At the princess' disbelieving glare Vivian tried not to roll her eyes. Although a small smile formed on her lips that Casilda trusted her that little. "It's not fatal."
"If it is, I'm gonna have Sandor on you!"
Vivian tried not to chuckle. "Would you really have time? Now hold still." She took the princess' arm and sunk the needle in, causing Casilda to let out an "ow" that reverberated across the hallways. Vivian dropped the princess' arm, her instinct to run away stronger than silencing an already made sound.
It was very difficult not to lecture her on the importance of quiet after that.
"Was it really so bad?" she asked instead.
Casilda rubbed her arm. "Yes!"
"Alright then," Vivian said with a touch of a sigh she couldn't suppress. "You should start feeling a bit sick within an hour. But it won't be worse than a cold."
"I hate colds," Casilda whined in reply.
Vivian tucked the needle back into her belt. "Well, you'll have one for about a day to throw off the other assassin. Nothing bad. Now, it might be a good idea to go to your room before the hallways fill."
Not waiting for a reply, the assassin turned away and went down the hall. She turned around again, out of sight of the princess, to see where she would need to go to collect her payment later. Once that was settled, it was time to go back to Rosialie.
A writer is a world trapped in a person— Victor Hugo
Ink is blood. Paper is bandages. The wounded press books to their heart to know they're not alone.
Sandor Sometimes he felt like imposing martial law to the whole castle. The nobles milling around like so much flies around a rotting corpse, buzzing gossip and sly glances grated, and he wanted nothing more than kick their frills and sneers away from his family, so they could deal with their mess in peace—or what little of it they could hope to keep.
He should reinforce the guard. And tell them to get those smug snakes to stop wandering in those dark corners. Next thing they knew he’d have another assassin on his hands, and gods knew he’d had enough of those for a lifetime.
They were slowing him down. He didn’t have time for this nonsense.
At least they had the good sense to stay clear. Probably his headache-enhanced glare was a good enough deterrent, as was the very clear if implicit message of ‘I am not in the mood to deal with your pompous crap’.
Maybe he needed to get thrashed and knocked out more often.
Wait, no.
...He couldn’t wait until this shit settled down.
“Casilda?”
This felt like yesterday. Minus one dead brother and plus one pest of an assassin.
Please don’t let her be crying.
“Sandor!”
Her voice was a bit off, but a look revealed no trace of tears. Good day was keeping up, apparently. Miracles did happen, it seemed. Though she was looking at him a bit resentfully, which he didn’t quite understand until he remembered that regrettable incident that had involved an unconscious Garis and an absent Ilgard.
And his own very short temper.
Whoops.
“I’m sorry about last night...” Earlier glare gone, he was now hovering at the door, not quite sure of his welcome. “It’s been a couple of very long days.” Not much of an excuse, really, but it was all he had. Such a good brother he was.
Except she wasn’t the one who’d almost died.
She seemed to consider that for a moment, while he waited for the verdict. “It’s alright”, she granted, and he sighed a bit in relief. Very good day. “I’ve been worried too.” Hello again, guilt. “But it’s going to get better now, I know it.”
How she could smile now, he had no idea, but he’d take and just be glad of it.
“Are you alright?” She seemed a bit... off. It was gone before he could catch it though, waved off by a gesture and a pout. “Don’t worry about me!” And she was rolling her eyes at his aborted and instinctive move forward, so he held himself back and counted himself lucky to be spared the hug-and-cry. Worrying was what he did, because someone obviously had to, in this family.
She knew him far too well, or he’d just gotten too easy to read, because she shook her head at him like he was being the ridiculous one. “It’s just a cold or something. I’ll be fine, alright?”
Maybe he was worrying too much. And getting sick after all that had happened would be no surprise, with the stress and all. He didn’t like it, of course, but he couldn’t do much against a cold, so he nodded along, a bit reluctant but alright with letting go of the topic if she didn’t want him to insist. “Alright. And—”
“—be careful, yes, you’ve told me already.” He didn’t think he’d ever been able to refuse her anything, or do anything but yield when she looked like that.
It was almost enough to let him believe for a moment that nothing had changed. “Fine. Get some proper rest if you’re feeling si—and alright I’m stopping now.” He knew the exasperated-with-his-worrying look too.
He’d gotten what he’d come for. Maybe a bit more. Casie was alright, and not-crying.
And well enough to laugh at him, which meant he could leave more or less reassured.
This was a good day.
Lumi: they stand no chance against the JAG SAFETY BLANKET
{...This scene is striking me as very familiar. Like that other time the women go to check on their king three days after his death and find his tomb empty xD}
Arianna-
Luckily, crypts were made out of stone, stocky statues and thick columns.
Lucky, because otherwise, Arianna would have broken every breakable in the place. It took all her self control not to hit Marie, who was cowering several metres away.
"Perhaps... perhaps they've taken him to prepare him?"
"No. He was to lie in state until I gave orders otherwise. Until I gave orders. Is there anyone higher ranking than me in this kingdom?"
"Well, no-"
"Unless my mother has made a miraculous recovery and is walking around the castle as well? Am I to go upstairs and find her bed empty?"
"Your mother is still alive, Your Highness."
Arianna kicked a heavy tomb, and screamed, partly in frustration, partly due to the pain in her big toe. "When is anything going to go right for me? What the hell is going on in this palace? First Derrick was dead and I felt so guilty about that and now they've taken his body or done something to trick me. Then that assassin kisses me and tries to kill me- I can't decide which I resent more- and that woman Vivian who I wouldn't trust as far as I can throw is suddenly by my side and she's just so rude... And Rosalie wants to kill me, isn't that nice? And when I was just thinking that I could trust Sandor, which I'm pretty sure I can't because I have a rather good idea that he's behind this all-"
She stopped, thinking of what she had just said. No, it was more than a good idea. Sandor did know what was going on, she was sure of it. Wasn't he friends with the assassin?
She turned, limping. That was a stupid thing to do, she had hurt her foot badly. She set her jaw and walked as if nothing was wrong.
"Come on, Marie. We're going to pay my bastard brother a visit."
"I-oh-alright," Marie said, sounding slightly distracted. Heaven knows why.
And the two of them walked towards Sandor's rooms.
"Stella. You were in my dream the other night. And everyone called you Princess." -Lauren2010
"You need to exercise," Ilgard had told him, and Garis had been all too happy to agree (not too happy though, as that would have been suspicious). "Nothing too strenuous, or you will wind up bedridden again."
Garis had nodded mutely then, suppressing a shudder of horror. Having to deal with Old Illnessbane any longer was not something the assassin desired. And so, once the old man who always reeked of illness had given him free reign for the day, Garis had quickly run through a list of possible activities that would not involve him overextending himself.
The list was woefully short, and the attention-craving assassin came to the sad conclusion that there were only two things he could do: go down to the barracks and spend the day with the boys, or do some princess-watching. As fun as a day with the boys would be (perhaps a bit too fun), Garis had been contracted to kill some princesses, and kill some princesses he would. Especially after the eldest had survived his first attempt.
And so this was why, some time before noon, Garis found himself perched in a tree with a good view through the window of Princess Arianna's rooms. The princess was out at the moment, however, which made for a pretty boring scene. Hopefully the princess would return soon, but until then, Garis would watch and wait, observing the eldest princess's habits... after he got something to eat.
Mere moments later, the assassin was perched back upon his stout limb, a meat pastry in one hand and a flagon of ale in the other. Sitting back in the shade, he munched pensively upon his brunch, casting the occasional glance about his hiding place. No one noticed him, and there was no one worth noticing. With a sigh, the bored assassin went back to staring into the princess's suite.
Hopefully it wouldn't take too long to find an opening.
This time, she went for the window. It would be a bit too suspicious for the princess to be discovered dead after only one other person had left the room.
Rosalie jumped as Vivian pulled open the unlocked window— did none of these siblings know the value of one?— and entered.
"Dead," the assassin said before Rosalie could ask. The princess would not get the chance to check the accuracy of that statement.
The princess got up, a bit too quickly, Vivian noted, and vanished into another chamber. When she returned, Rosalie had a large purse in her hands.
She gave it to Vivian. "You'll get the rest when Arianna has been killed."
Vivian took the purse before even beginning to weigh the risks. Garis' blood was indeed rich for him to have demanded a sum this large. Even just half of the total was enough to buy a small portion of the kingdom.
But she couldn't trust Derrick to keep her around just yet. And she had been hired by Arianna already, which ensured her safety for a certain period of time for now. And there was no trusting somebody who needed to die. It was a case of first come, first serve.
Vivian smiled and hung the purse on her belt, keeping her hand there to begin pulling out a needle. She began stepping closer to the princess. "I won't be needing it, thank you."
"Wha— What do you mean?" Rosalie asked, eyes wide.
Vivian closed the distance between them, one hand choking the girl's air supply to silence her screams, the other to prick her arm. A little pressure to her pulse for extra incentive for quiet.
The assassin lowered the girl's limp body to the floor so as not to alert anybody by a loud thump. Locking the door was an extra precaution to the princess' body not being found. She slipped out the window and closed it behind her. Stashing this purse would be required before going to see Casilda.
The purse in her room at the Dancer, Vivian went back to the castle to see the youngest. A window entrance again, but if it was for the same reason Vivian had yet to decide.
"Did you kill her?" Casilda asked before Vivian had even entered completely.
Vivian smirked. "Of course."
The girl clapped her hands and rushed into another room. Vivian used the time to allow herself a momentary flash of irritation. The girl was too quick to speak, too prone to saying what was best kept hidden. It would be a risk to keep her around. Especially if Vivian wanted to stay within the palace walls for as long as she could.
And, she had every intention of doing just that.
Caslida returned with another purse. Vivian estimated the weight, and it felt like the exact sum. She had a feeling this girl wasn't about to let her ask for more, anyway.
"You can go now," the princess said, looking a bit worse for wear thanks to the first part of the poison.
Vivian hung the purse on her belt, right next to the needle with the second part of the poison. "I don't think I will."
Before Caslida could even turn, Vivian knew her reflex to scream for a guard would be well-honed, she had taken the girl by the throat and pressed on her pulse. Once Caslida was limp, Vivian sunk the needle into her arm.
She took special care to carry the body to bed and tuck her in, if only to buy herself some time should somebody enter. Chances are at least one person had seen her sick. Her being sound asleep wouldn't be too odd. As with Rosalie, she locked the door for more time. It was a shame she hadn't been able to do that with Rosalie, but that princess' rooms were much farther than where she planed on spending her time. Caslida's rooms were positioned so guards could seal off the castle in a few minutes when the girl's body was discovered.
The thought of guards brought her mind to Sandor.
And he oversaw the protection of all the siblings.
Getting past him was going to be... interesting.
Going to Arianna first was her best chance. If Sandor crossed paths with her when she was at the eldest princess' side, then he wouldn't be able to kill her on the spot. Not until he explained to Arianna what he was going after her for. Which would buy her much needed time to vanish.
Vivian ruled out Derrick as possible protection. She hadn't been hired by him, and the pair seemed to be at least friends. Chances are Derrick could be told what Vivian had done instantly and wouldn't mind Vivian's death. And it was outside of the palace, which made it riskier. Less hallways to weave through and less passages leading to outside.
There was also Garis. Sandor had shown just a bit too much protection over that assassin to rule him out. Possibly, if she could use him...
But Garis was last on her list and he would also be the hardest to reach, chances are. And if Sandor was making his rounds, and an injured friend was on the list... not good. She'd risk only getting to Garis while he was there or running into him in the hall, after he'd seen her work.
Besides, Vivian was supposed to be protecting Arianna from any sort of threat. It would be wise to try and meet up with her at one point in time today. And there was no time like the present. The purse Caslida had given her would have to wait, eve if it did mean opening herself up to questions. Vivian was just thankful it wasn't unusual for a woman to have two purses.
As she walked, Vivian just hoped Sandor didn't see the bodies and meet her first.
A writer is a world trapped in a person— Victor Hugo
Ink is blood. Paper is bandages. The wounded press books to their heart to know they're not alone.
When your heart gets pierced with arrows, don't rip them out and pierce those around you in retribution for your hurt. You'll only unnecessarily wound others and bleed to death yourself. — LadyMysterio
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