Chapter 28
CHAPTER
28
Saryn and Theory gathered us in the common area, each of us standing anxiously around the long table where it lined the largest bookshelf.
“It’s time to test your skills beyond the hollow of Basdie.” Theory eyed each of us intently.
My stomach tightened into anxious knots at the prospect of getting to leave this place for any amount of time.
“You’re being given your first mission, which means you need to plan and prepare as a team,” Saryn clarified.
“You’re going with us, right?” Cairis questioned, and I knew the answer before either instructor spoke.
“No, you’re going alone. It’s time to put all this training to good use.”
I could see Nori fidgeting, picking at her nails, something she always did when her nerves were getting the best of her. If she wasn’t so damn good at healing herself, her fingertips would be a regular bloody mess.
Trace spoke up, looking confident and intrigued, “What’s the mission?”
Always all business with him.
“You’re going to be attending a party, a ball, in honor of a celestial event.”
Cairis chimed in obnoxiously before Theory could finish her thought, “A party? Ha, what kind of challenge is that?”
“Silence!” Theory looked like she was a second away from backhanding him. From that point on, the rest of us waited patiently in silence, listening carefully to each detail.
“The party is just the means to get you all onto the premises without being detected. A very wealthy family will be hosting, but their son, who resides on the estate, has been dealing in illegal goods under their noses. Your mission is to retrieve a particular box of items that he should not possess. The retrieval of said items is essential to your future missions. It goes without saying that failure is not an option.”
I inhaled deeply, letting the weight of her words settle in.
Varro’s voice rang out. “What are the rules of engagement?”
Saryn smiled slyly. The same look he always gave when he was thinking something truly devious.
“There are none. Get in and get out with the box. Go undetected if possible, and don’t get caught. If you happen to make that filthy thief disappear for good, you wouldn’t be hurting my feelings.”
We all knew this moment would come, when all the training suddenly coalesced with reality. Hearing Saryn speak so flippantly about a stranger’s life, as if it were nothing more than collateral damage, was still shocking. Trace didn’t seem fazed.
Hands tucked nonchalantly in his pockets; Trace began his questioning. “What intel do we have?”
Theory rolled out a scroll across the table, covered in faded drawings.
“We managed to get ahold of some of the original designs of the household from the bricklayers who built the place. There’s no guarantee that they are up-to-date, but it’s the best we’ve got.”
My eyes scanned the illustrations, noting how massive the structure was. It was practically a palace, but these weren’t Royals or Honored Fae.
“What else?” Trace probed.
“We have reason to believe he is hiding the stolen goods near or around the bedroom of his youngest siblings; so young they are still tended to by a nanny.”
Nori gasped at the thought of children being put in harm’s way.
“There will be many guests at the ball, plenty of dancing, plenty of wine, and—knowing these people—plenty of debauchery, but you’re not to be distracted from the task at hand. There will be a chime when the celestial event begins, and most guests will make their way out to the terrace. This is when you should plan to make your move. If you’re quick about it, you should be gone before the guests even return. The details of how you accomplish this we leave up to you.”
My mind was already spinning, playing out every scenario, thinking of the roles we’d each need to play. I was a planner, a list maker with a propensity for overthinking, but now I was focused on how we didn’t end up dead, or worse. And I knew what “worse” was. I’d practiced that art many nights with the Vesper.
Just when I thought Theory and Saryn had offered all they were going to give us, they added, “Tomorrow, a tailor from the king will be arriving. You’ll each be fitted for the ball with custom attire of your own design or request. That same tailor will be measuring you for custom weaponry. You’ll make a list of what each of you want, and it will be crafted to your exact sizing and delivered shortly thereafter.”
“And who should we expect to pay for all of this?” Cairis questioned.
Saryn smirked. “The Order has direct access to the king’s purse. Whatever we desire, whatever we require, shall be ours.” He winked.
Before walking off to leave us to our scheming, he said, “The event is in two weeks. Get your plan together. I suggest someone teaches Cairis to waltz, otherwise he’ll be a dead giveaway.”
That night none of us visited the Vespers or the healing pools. We pored over the designs of the estate, planning our movements. Two weeks might have seemed like plenty of time, but not to us. I’m glad everyone was just as ready as I was.
Most of us were focused, but Cairis would not shut up about all the fancy weaponry he was going to order. I rolled my eyes at his obnoxious tangents, but it was amusing how much he was hyping up Nori about the prospect of getting an entire arsenal sized just right for her petite stature. He’d whip around her, pretending to jab at her with tiny little Nori-sized daggers.
Trace, Varro, and I were heads down in a debate about the best approach. Gia sipped at her mulled cider and instructed us to “just tell her what to do.”
Late into the evening, we had devised the following concept. Gia would serve as the bait for the host’s son. Fully shifted in disguise, she would lure him to a spot far from his siblings’ bedroom, seducing him into distraction, while many of the guests made their way onto the balcony.
Nori would glamour the children into thinking she was their nanny. With a brief glance at the real nanny, she could pull it off, especially because young children were significantly less perceptive about the illusion than adults. Her job was to get them away from their room, freeing up Trace to find the goods while Varro used Siren Song to lull the real nanny into a slumber.
Cairis would be standing guard at the end of the hallway, ready to alert us if anything was going awry and be the first line of defense if things derailed into chaos. My job was to intercept anything and anyone that kept the plan from happening.
While it seemed like I didn’t have a real role, they assured me that having me on alert and ready to improvise was going to be pivotal if the need arose. Whether that meant obstructing and distracting a guard, sending a warning signal, or coming to Cairis’ aid if things got really messy. The possibilities of my position were endless.
Varro said I was the one that acted on instinct. I had proven I could adapt, and that he was certain I’d spend every day until the mission playing out every possible scenario.
I didn’t know whether or not to take that as a compliment, but since no one disagreed with the plan, the first night was a small victory.
The next day the tailor showed up as expected, and we each held private appointments with him to get measured and discuss our outfits. The ball was going to consist of extremely wealthy attendees. Each of us knew that our attire needed to be just ostentatious enough to blend in.
Nori read aloud from a book that attempted to explain the celestial event they were celebrating, which was referred to as the “Canary Veil.” Every twenty years, the night sky would be blanketed in yellow, with the stars twinkling in the background. Unlike a solar eclipse where day briefly turned to night, the sky would remain bright, even when it was supposed to be dark out. The book described a God who was punished for his vanity and had his vision permanently altered. He was only able to see shades of yellow henceforth. On this one night, all others would see the world through his eyes.
It is said that those who stand under the Canary Veil would be granted extra youth from the eerie light of the sky. Why a bunch of Fae needed more youth was beyond me. We already lived an extremely long lifetime, assuming we did not fall ill or get struck down.
It’s no surprise I’d never heard of it. Apparently, I’d lived too far south my entire life to witness it. It was more of a regional celebration.
When I explained what I wanted for my dress, the tailor looked at me wide-eyed, unsure as to whether I was joking or not.
I had planned to be modest with my weaponry request, especially since I’d have nowhere to hide them. But then I saw Cairis’ long list of items, and he had reminded me that no one said the request had to be just for the party. I followed his logic and added a handful more items to my parchment.
I demanded that everyone attend a few classes led by Gia and me on dancing. We weren’t certain if we’d be pulled into the festivities, but if we were, we would need to blend in like each of us had grown up dancing at these sorts of events.
Cairis and Trace needed the most work, simply because their size worked against them. Cairis was clunky in his steps, constantly jamming Gia’s poor toes.
Trace was extremely stiff. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t because he was practicing with me, which forced his hands to be wrapped around my waist and our bodies closer than they’d been in a long time. I continued to critique him. He wouldn’t let me get off easy in the flight field; I wasn’t about to let him mess this up for us just because he didn’t have a musical bone in his rigid physique.
To no one’s surprise, Varro was a great dancer. He was fluid like water, his body bending and curving with each dip of mine. Maybe his sister or mother had taught him to dance. I imagined him whirling his sister around, the sea breeze tousling her hair with each turn. Nori was light and graceful on her feet, but we all knew that if she had to dance with a stranger, the intimacy of it might be more than she bargained for on our first mission.
Over the next few days, Cairis improved. He emphasized that he’d been putting in work with the Vesper. We all laughed at the thought of Cairis waltzing in that tiny room, especially given the fact that most of us practiced violence with a Vesper, not dancing. I wasn’t about to criticize his commitment, though.
By the end of the week our custom weapons had arrived, as well as the final adjustments to our attire. I purposefully hid my dress from the others. I wasn’t sure I was going to get up enough courage to wear it, but since I had nothing else in my closet, I knew I had no actual choice.
When I had lain in bed at night imagining what it meant to be part of the Order—an assassin, a spy, a weapon of his majesty—I hadn’t imagined it would involve ball gowns and parties, but here we were.
The night before the mission, tension and anxiety could be felt amongst all of us. We’d gone through the plan many times. I’d played out every possible scenario in my head. We were feeling confident, but it also felt strange. Like a prisoner’s day out. This was the first time we’d be leaving Basdie in months. Would anyone be tempted to flee? What would the consequences be if they did? Worse than that, what if someone got hurt? What if we lost someone?
Saryn constantly lectured us that this was a real mission, the risks were all legitimate, and not to underestimate anything. He said never to minimize this to a retrieval mission because things rarely go to plan. He was excellent at dampening any confidence with his incessant warnings.
I heard cracks and quakes within the walls of the stronghold, but it was not the waterfall. I wandered toward the flight deck and found Trace out there by himself. In the distance, dark gray storm clouds were lurking in, and I could see the intermittent flashes of lightning scattered all about. The sound of deep thunder rolled our way.
Trace sat there on the ledge, sketching the landscape before him. I had almost forgotten he drew at all, and was quickly reminded of how much natural talent he possessed. Despite the effortless sweeps of the charcoal across the page, his shoulders remained lifted, uptight with a tension that coated his entire frame. He never seemed at ease anymore. Always on edge, always ready for a fight. I hated seeing him like that, but I knew he was prepared for anything and that brought me a sense of security.
“My father always taught me that a clear mind the night before a mission is more decisive and purposeful,” he said, continuing to sketch.
“How many missions did your father send you on?”
“Enough to know that they rarely go to plan.”
“You must have learned to improvise, then.”
“At a cost.” He sighed. “A storm is a bad omen amongst my people.”
Those were words I did not need to hear the night before our mission. I tried to sound confident when I replied, “We’re your people now. I’m going to let the thunder soothe me like a lullaby and sleep like a babe. I suggest you do the same.”
I turned on my heel and left his side before he could respond.