CHAPTER FIVE
The assassins were here already! Donya had promised me I’d be safe in the palace. What was I supposed to do? I had the combat capabilities of a mouse. My gift wouldn’t come in handy with no heights in sight. Should I come clean about being a fake?
I wet my lips. “Please pardon me, but I didn’t—”
“If you cry for help, I slit your throat,” the gender-indeterminate voice growled.
I immediately stopped talking. I could swear I’d heard that voice somewhere before.
Keeping the sword pointed at me, the assassin stepped around to stand in front of me.
The moonlight illuminated her bright red curly hair.
From her pointed chin to her sharp eyebrows, she was stunningly lovely.
Red lipstick blazed against her moon-kissed skin.
She was even taller than my current body.
Her spider-thin limbs and trim frame were covered by skintight black clothing.
A dark cape flowed behind her. It looked cool.
Dammit, I was attracted, jealous, and also about to die!
Now I knew where I’d heard her voice. This was the Blood Duchess’s personal maid, the one who’d taken the princess to the doctor. Why did the duchess have to incite murderous hatred in everyone she encountered? I whispered, “If you’d like a raise, we can talk, uh—”
“You’ve forgotten my name again.” She scowled. “You know me as Araceli, but my real name is Ari, heir to the duchy of South Sherda.”
“Nice to meet you—um, which name do you prefer?” I was a bit puzzled because Ari was more commonly a male name, but it didn’t seem politic to bring that up with a sword still pointed at my throat.
The sword wavered. “Araceli, I guess?” She looked confused, then her face hardened, and the blade pressed close to my skin again.
I tried to breathe more shallowly so I wouldn’t cut myself.
“Wait, isn’t the Blood Duchess the ruler of South Sherda?
Are you two related?” Araceli couldn’t possibly be the duchess’s daughter—they looked too close in age.
(Araceli looked about the same age as me, and I was only in my mid-twenties.
Come to think of it, didn’t Hedri look oddly young for a duchess?
Or was I justifying my own lack of accomplishments at my age?)
“Your arrogance has reached the point where you refer to yourself in third person.” Araceli sighed.
“I knew you wouldn’t remember my real name either.
You never remember your victims. As a result, I’ve prepared a short presentation for you about our history together.
” She flared out her cloak dramatically.
The sword, fortunately, lowered. I had no time to feel relieved. Red mist exploded from her garment.
It was probably poisonous. I had but seconds left to live. Slain by a ridiculously hot assassin who’d been targeting someone else! Oh, cruel world!
Instead, the mist paralyzed me in place. I couldn’t even blink. I could only sweat, certain my end would be coming soon.
From her cloak, Araceli pulled out three tiny puppets and put them on her fingers.
Two on her right hand, and one on her left.
“This is you.” She waved a puppet with blonde straw hair and a very angry face drawn in red paint.
“These are my parents.” The other two puppets had clearly been made more carefully, with detailed clothing and tiny buttons.
The mother wore a silk blue dress, the father a doublet.
They had gemstones for eyes. “You were the landgrave ruling over part of our territory after the mysterious deaths of your parents—who you definitely killed, everyone knows that. But you had greater ambitions, so you cozied up to the prince, collected blackmail around the royal court, and then—” Lowering her hands, she peered at me.
“Are you even listening? Or should I just skip straight to your brutal death?”
I’d gotten back just enough motion to bat my eyes frantically. I managed a low grunt.
Araceli fished around in her pocket and retrieved a very tiny stack of papers, which she stuck to the fake duchess.
“Then after you had bribed or threatened enough nobles into your control, you used your puppets to falsify evidence against my family, claiming that my parents had committed treason and spied for a neighboring kingdom—this one, ironically. You also arranged for a fake assassination attempt against the crown prince so that you could pretend to rescue him.”
Whoa, I—I mean the Blood Duchess—was very evil. This could be some useful information to use against her if I survived. I got enough motion back to nod my head to show I was listening.
Araceli threw the duchess puppet to the floor, papers and all, and stomped on it, viciously enough to snap off the wig.
I shuddered, thinking she surely longed to snap my neck in a similar fashion.
Next, she withdrew a tiny puppet of a little boy wearing a waistcoat with short red hair and a puppet of a golden-furred dog. “This is me, and this is Mr. Wuffles.”
I grunted a bit louder. Voice coming back, phew.
Now, if only my legs would follow suit, then I could run.
My older sister once told me that villains like to monologue, and if I were ever about to be murdered, then I should keep the killer talking.
(My sister also liked to monologue, so what did that say about her?)
Araceli made her voice artificially high-pitched as she manipulated her mother’s puppet.
“My little Ari, I need you to be brave. Take Mr. Wuffles and run. Remember that we love you and you should definitely avenge our murders.” In her usual voice, she said, “They didn’t tell me that last part, but it was implied.
Normally if someone kills your parents, you’d kill them back.
Especially the scions of fallen noble families.
Anyone who’s ever seen a puppet show knows that. ”
I nodded before I realized I was agreeing to my death.
Araceli’s voice became deeper. “The entire ducal household is under arrest for high treason.” She pulled out a model guard who attacked the parent puppets, ripping them off her fingers and throwing them to the floor. I gasped. The dog leapt on the guards and then—boom, thrown to the floor, too.
“NOOOOOOOOO!” I screamed, my voice finally coming back. “Not the dog, too. Please let the dog live!”
Araceli glared. “Your vile minions didn’t even spare Mr. Wuffles, but he’ll be avenged.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks. “That’s just too sad. You lost your parents at such a young age. That damn Blood Duchess didn’t even let your family dog live? She’s a vile, putrid, pathetic example of everything wrong with the nobility. You should definitely kill her.”
“That was the idea,” Araceli said, drawing her sword and placing it back at my throat.
“I’m sorry you went through all that. Do you need a hug? I can give you a hug.” I extended my arms. Ooo, I had arm movement back. I could feel my legs returning, too. They tingled all over, but I could twitch my feet again.
“An apology won’t get you off the hook at this point, Blood Duchess!”
“No, I’m not the—”
Araceli spoke over me. “I’ve been plotting this revenge all my life. I trained in the art of the blade. I studied poisons and magic. I gathered allies among your other victims.”
I clapped. “You’ve done so well. Your deceased parents must be proud of you.”
“Stop mocking me!”
“I’m not mocking—” Upon seeing the murderous look on Araceli’s face and the blade inching closer, I shut up and let her continue her monologue.
“I created a false identity and lowered myself to work for the woman who killed my family. It took me a whole year serving as your maid to swap out all your rings for fakes—wait. Where are your rings?” She stared at my bare hands.
I looked down. “I took them off to sleep.”
“You took them off to sleep? But you never take them off! Not to sleep and not to bathe!” Araceli’s hand wavered, that sword point jiggling dangerously.
“I can’t believe I spent years replacing your magical protective relics and the very night I decide to kill you, you render my hard work pointless by taking them all off! ”
“Who wears rings in bed?” The duchess, apparently. No wonder the pale lines stood out so starkly on my borrowed fingers. “You sound like you’ve put an awful lot of work into this. Did you ever think about maybe just poisoning one of the meals you bring every day?”
“You’re protected against poison. Or at least you were before I stole your Ring of Immunity. After going through all this trouble, I want to look you in the eyes when you die.”
I nodded. “Yes, I can see why that would be more satisfying. But why the window? Why not just walk through the door?”
“Your door lock is another relic that explodes when anyone enters without your permission. There’s one on the window, too, but I barely managed to disable that one.”
“I was supposed to lock the door?”
Araceli stared at me. Then she went over to the door and opened it. It wasn’t locked.
I rubbed my bedhead sheepishly. “Sorry, my bad. I’m from the countryside. No one locks their house doors, much less their bedroom doors.”
“I can’t believe you ruined my years of planning.” Araceli advanced on me, her expression even more murderous. “The night I finally decide to assassinate you, you stop bothering to protect yourself? Am I a joke to you? Do you have an army of guards in the other room waiting to arrest me?”
I scrambled backward. “Uh, no, no guards. You see … the thing is … I’m not the Blood Duchess.”
Araceli stared harder. I’d figured she wouldn’t believe me. Maybe I should have screamed as soon as the sword moved away from my throat. I had a lot of sympathy for Araceli’s suffering, but I refused to die for someone else’s crimes.