Chapter One: The Queen's Assassin

Alice Sarentor was a queen without a king, born into the throne, and yet to take a husband. She claimed a king would make her look weak, and had refused the courtship of hundreds of suitors. But it was a lie. A cover-up used to protect her secret love: the one man who listened to her song of terror and came to know the tune. Despite her efforts to push him away, she could not resist his temptation. He was tall with dark hair, a slim face and green eyes that shined like the emeralds of her amulets. But it was not his looks that she found desirable, it was his power. She met him when she was a maiden of fifteen years, but even then she could tell he was as powerful a man as she was a woman.

Alice often dreamed of the night they met, and tonight was no different, as had been the past several weeks. It’s frequency always increased with the time that he was away, and he had been gone for a long time. She let herself relive the memory the moment she lay her head to rest on her feather stuffed pillow. In her dream, she was at the King’s feasts. It was before he went to rest in the afterlife called Sheol. Everything was just as she remembered it. All the noblemen and women of the Inner Circles of Ringland were in attendance.  The men wore their finest robes and the women were dressed in gowns of flowing silk, everyone in purple and red, the colors of Ringland. All wore elegant masks bejeweled with rubies and amethysts. Stringed instruments echoed throughout the hall, and the smell of salted roast-beef permeated through the air. She could still taste the sweet red wine on her lips.

She looked down from her seat, which stood humbly beside her father’s throne, gazing at the nobility dancing and laughing and drinking. They looked so happy behind their papier-mâché masks, bound in leather and crafted with plaster. She thought about how one day she would be their Queen, their ruler, never knowing that the day would come so soon.

She could put a name to all the smiling faces, even behind their masks. Her father had many feasts, and she’d come to know all the noblemen and women, if not by first name then at least by surname. But there was one face she did not recognize. He wore a black mask bejeweled with obsidian that matched his dark hair. He wore a deep blue jacket that was so dark she would have thought it was black had he not been standing in the glow of the torchlight on the back wall. He was younger than the other men and women who danced around him, perhaps only a few years older than she was. She wanted to know who he was. She wanted to know everything about him. She stepped down from her seat, one foot in front of the other with one hand to hold up the flowing fabrics of her gown, and walked to this newcomer.

Alice tried to move across the dance floor, but through the crowed of dancing lords and ladies she lost her footing. They were too fast and danced too quick for her to escape.  Every man looked the same, and the dresses of all the ladies seemed to form one wave of cloth. She tried to breath, but there was no air around her. The heat of the bodies surrounding her made her head go foggy. Soon she was off balance, and missing steps. She looked up, but there was no sign of escape. Her chest tightened as she struggled for breath, and after another missed step she felt a pull on her arm and the next moment she was free. The tide of people were behind her; she could breathe again, and the world had stopped spinning. 

“You must tread with caution, my Princess, if you wish to cross the sea of dances.” She looked up and saw the strange man with the black mask smiling at her and holding her arm.

“I’m the Princess. I don’t need to tread with caution.” She pulled away from him, giving a devilish smirk.

“They say life is a dance with the gods, and even Princesses need to be careful when it comes to the gods.” He took a small sip from his goblet, and turned his gaze to the dancing going on around him. 

Who are you to tell me to be careful? She scowled at him and crossed her arms, and when he did nothing, she grew even angrier. All her life she had been pampered; every need or want met at a moment’s notice. And then this strange man was ignoring her. 

“And who are you exactly?”

He turned to her, lifting up his mask, revealing a face the gods had blessed. “You can call me Cott.”

“Cott? Like a bed?” She rolled her eyes. “You’re not from around here.”

“No, not like a bed. But you can still sleep on me.” 

Flustered and disheveled, the Princess wanted to leave at that moment. Call the guards and have him thrown out for speaking to her that way, but there was something about him, so different than any one else she’d ever known, that made her want to stay. 

“Here, would you like some?” He lifted and goblet to her lips, and before she could think of whether he was friend or foe, she drank it all. 

Leaned against the white marble pillar beneath the torchlight, she stared into his eyes as he made jests about the lords and ladies. His green, starry eyes glowed against their black sky that was his well groomed hair. He’d make fun of the gentlemen who tripped over the lady’s gowns, and boast at how much better a job he could do. But whenever she asked him to dance he changed the subject. 

“Oh my.” Alice said, looking up for the first time from her new friend in hours, “Everyone’s leaving.” 

“I suppose I should be as well.” Cott said with a sad smile. “It has been a pleasure spending the evening with you, my Princess.” He bowed low and placed a delicate kiss on her hand. He went to turn and leave, but Alice didn’t want him to leave. A pull in her stomach swept over her entire body, her fingers started to tremble, and her bottom lip began to quiver. 

She grabbed his arm before it was too late and said, “I—I’ll walk you to the gates.” 

“I would be honored.” He smiled and bowed again, and then they left. Through the hustle of everyone else leaving, no one saw her slip out with him, and she was grateful for it. She didn’t want their evening to end. And once they reached the gates, she still wasn’t satisfied. 

“My Princess, thank you for the splendid evening. It was one I will cherish always.” He turned to leave again, but she stopped him once more and pulled him to a small off shoot where she knew no one would find them.

“There.” She pointed to the tallest tower. “That’s where I sleep. Stay here until everyone leaves, at midnight the guards switch. Come to me then. I’ll wait for you.” Cott went to object, but she stopped him. “You must obey me. I am the Princess.”

“Which means your father is the King. I could be killed just for—” Alice pressed her lips against his. 

“I am the Princess. Wait here, and then come to me. I’ll be waiting.” She didn’t wait for him to answer her. She almost ran to her chambers, skipping as little as she could. 

She tossed and turned in her bed, waiting, longing for him to keep his promise. But soon she began to wonder if he was really going to come to her. Have I been fooled by a stranger in a mask? No, Cott wouldn’t do that. He smiled at me. But everyone smiles at me. But his was so genuine, he had to come. 

Midnight came and went, and her doubts consumed her. But still she held out hope. But when the sky began to brighten, she feared her thoughts of dismay were right. He had lied to me. But then she heard a creak. The sound of her hardwood floors moving under the weight of someone’s feet was so sweet in her ears. She sat up, short of breath and anxious, praying to the gods it was him. And it was. 

The Queen wanted to live in that moment for the rest of her life but, as all her dreams did, it ended much too soon. She woke in haze, still leaving her dream behind and coming into the present. She looked about her room, trying to discover what woke her. The night was a peaceful one, moonlight shined in through her open window, and a small breeze made the curtains ripple in its wake. It was the same window her love had climbed through all those years ago. But it had long been shut, as their relationship grew more serious she had a secret entrance crafted, and that was all he used when he came to see her. Why was it opened now?

A sinking feeling in her stomach told her she was being watched. She looked around the room, frantically searching for any truth to the feeling. Blood rushed through her veins as her heart began to race. She wanted to scream for help, but then she heard it. The sound of a creak from the wood of her floors. The open window, the creak, the dream, it was all reminiscent of him. Could it be her lover come to see her? She drew in a slow quiet breath and pulled the covers over her shoulders as she looked for the source of the sound. 

“Is that you?” There was fear in her stomach, but a tentative sound of hope chimed in her voice. It had been so long since she’d seen him, and she longed for his presence. 

Another creak came, and then she spotted it: a shadow standing in the corner of her castle chambers, hidden behind the curtains flickering in the wind. The cool of the night tickled the back of her neck, and she shivered. Excitement spread through her like the first time he’d come to see her. And then the excitement turned to fear when the shadow spoke. 

“I am not your lover.” It said.

Her heart sank at the unfamiliar voice. Then why are you here? She knew she could easily scream for her Queen’s Guards and they would come to her rescue, but she did not need rescuing, and if she wanted to make the shadow pay for ruining the moment that never was, she had to resist. She moved slowly, sliding her hand beneath her pillow, and grabbing the small knife hidden beneath. The blade was a gift, small and sleek, only the size of her index finger, and made of glass crafted from the sand of the Silica Dessert. 

A knife is not a child’s toy. Hold it with a firm grip. A loose wrist and you will lose your life. Her lover had warned her. And you must thrust forward with all your strength. 

That was their relationship, the Queen and her lover. He taught her to fight, and she taught him how to lead. For the Queen, leading came natural, but for her lover, it did not. At times it was inconvenient, but he had his own uses and the inconvenience was worth it. They both needed each other’s strengths on their side. But she would eventually outgrow his usefulness, and she knew that one day she would cast him aside. But for now she would keep him around. 

“Don’t hurt me.” False tears welled in the Queen’s eyes and fell down her cheeks. She hated crying, but knew it could save her life. She shuffled from beneath the covers and rose to her feet, keeping the knife hidden beneath the folds of her garments. She knew pleading for her life would not save it, but it could buy her enough time to strike first.  She took a small step foreword, trying to get close.
“Alice Sarentor, Queen of Ringland. Your lies have destroyed this Kingdom. You shall pay for your crimes.” The shadow remained hidden amongst the curtains, unmoving and quiet aside from the voice. 

I do what I have to in order to make this Kingdom a better place, and if I have to lie for that to happen, then so be it, she wanted to say, but she knew it would be a mistake. 

“Please,” Alice took another step, “I can give you whatever you like. Gold.” She took another step. “Food.” And then another. “An army. Whatever you desire.” She could almost reach out and touch its dark hooded tunic.

“I don’t want anything you own.” 

At that, Alice stood up straight and wiped the tears from her eyes. She was close enough now, she could kill the shadow in an instant. 

She ripped the blade from its hiding place and tried to plunge it into the belly of the intruder, just as her lover had taught her, but the shadow was quick. It dogged out of the way, and then leapt at her. 

Alice’s knees buckled under the force of the shadow’s strength and she toppled to the ground. It mounted her, rammed a knee against her blade hand, forcing her to release it, and the next moment Alice was blocking fist after fist raining down on her. Pain spread across her face as she felt her skin open under the force. The crack of a stiff elbow against her jaw made her ears ring, and her mouth filled with blood. She began to cough, spraying the blood all over herself and the shadow above her. 

Dazed from the attack, she barely knew what was going on. But once she found the strength to open her eyes, she saw a dagger shimmering in the moonlight, and just as it came down at her, instincts kicked in and she threw up a stiff hand. She grabbed the wrist of the attacker, held on tight, bent its thin wrist, and dug her fingers into the spongy flesh until the blade dropped, just as she’d been taught.

Alice rolled the shadow onto its back and then she was on top. In a blind rage she began hammering her fists into what she assumed was its face. The shadow let out a high-pitched shriek. And then something clicked in Alice’s mind. The attacker was a woman. Alice continued to throw as many punches as she could, pulling out locks of hair, and biting at whatever flesh she could find. She took a second to breathe and saw the blade not more than three feet from her. She wanted to grab it and stab the woman as many times as it took till she was happy again, but there was not time.

“Help!” She screamed instead. Her Guards would be there at any moment, but in that moment the Guards weren’t, the shadow landed a hard fist on on the side of her face, and Alice fell off in a daze. 

After the Queen screamed for help, the shadow knew it was time to leave if she wanted to escape with her life. However, that also meant she’d have to abandon her mission. She was only supposed to leave when the job was finished, but if it meant she lost her life in the process, would it be worth it? She did not know. Just before she left, she glanced back at the Queen of Ringland, lying bloodied and dazed on the floor, and shook her head. The Queen looked like a victim, but the shadow knew she deserved every bruise, every cut, and more. 

Alice sat up placing a hand on her already swollen cheek, and stared at the shadow standing in her window. The moonlight caught her face, and Alice saw her for the first time. She was no older than herself. Her hair was blond, lighter than her own, her face was bloodied with scratch marks, and her cheeks were red from where Alice clawed at her. The chamber door slammed open and eight guards stood, steel bared against the growing light. The woman jumped out of the window and was gone.

“Are you alright, my Queen?” A Guard was on one knee staring Alice in the eyes, fear and concern oozing through his voice. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” Alice stood and shoved the other Guards who tried to help her up off of her. “Why didn’t you come sooner?” She stared at them, her eyes wild.

“My Queen, we did not hear you.”

“Never mind it.” Alice looked down and flattened the wrinkles out of her soiled robes. She pushed her hair out her eyes and looked to the window. “Where is the shadow?” Alice ran to the window and saw nothing. She examined the castle walls standing thirty feet tall and looked for her attacker, but she was not there. She franticly moved her eyes, looking in off places where shadows could hide, and then out of the corner of her eye, she saw it move in and out her sight. “There.” She pointed.

“What do you see? There is nothing, my Queen.” 

“Wait.” Alice said, still pointing. She could feel their doubts, and after a moment, even she started to doubt herself. But then the shadow was visible again. It started scaling the outer castle walls as easy as if she was walking up a pair of stairs.

“My gods.” One Guard gasped. The shadow reached the top of the castle walls, and leapt. Alice heard herself gasp. She killed herself? I could have done that. But then, the shadow reappeared, leaping from rooftop to rooftop of the mansions belonging to the nobility of the Inner Circles. She gripped the banister. She could have screamed in anger, but then she heard a voice she recognized.

“What happened?” Rydell Phaun, Alice’s top adviser, said. He was a small man who always seemed to hunch his back and play with his hands. 

“Rydell,” She collapsed in his open arms, “the window.” She shrieked not too dramatically, “Someone tried to take my life.” 

“Are you injured, my Queen?” 

Alice did not answer. She sobbed into his arms, making sure to get some blood on his cloak. “Find her.” She ordered at last.

Rydell cocked his head, hearing the pronoun. “A woman tried to do this?”

“Yes,” Alice looked down at the lock of blond hair, which she had ripped from the assassin scalp during their fight, “a woman.”

 © 2016 Chase Collins