Valek wondered if it would be as easy as the Commander made it sound. He hoped so. “Speaking of money, I need a handful of gold for expenses.”
Ambrose filled a pouch. “I included a few diamonds. They’re perfect for big bribes. Ladies find them irresistible.” He tossed it to Valek. “Buy yourself a new dagger. That one you carry is—”
“My favorite blade and I plan to sink it deep into the King’s heart.”
“You do that and you’ll become my chief of security. Who better to protect me than one who can get through the tightest security?”
“No one.”
Ambrose grinned. “Right.”
Valek stood, saluted Ambrose with his mug, downed the contents in one gulp and set it on the table.
“Valek,” Ambrose said.
He turned back. The humor was gone from Ambrose’s gaze. In its place was a cold hardness like a dagger made of ice.
“Kill them all,” the Commander said.
“All?”
“All the royals. King, Queen, princes...everyone with royal blood.”
Valek stared at him.
“They’re a weed. If we don’t get all the roots, they’ll grow back. Do you understand?”
He did. It just seemed...heartless despite the logic. “Yes, sir.”
* * *
The countdown had begun. Six months to assassinate the King and his entire family. Valek traveled to Jewelstown, which was located near the castle’s complex. The town had been renamed after Queen Jewel—a wedding gift from the King. Valek spent every night the first week searching for a way inside the complex. The steep and smooth outer walls were not only difficult to climb, but too exposed.
He dressed as a servant and was able to enter the main gates without trouble. However, he soon discovered the servants were restricted to their corridors and quarters and rarely saw the royals let alone interacted with them. Only the trusted servants, who’d worked in the castle for years, were allowed into the royal apartments and kitchen. Smart.
One thing he’d learned at Hedda’s was patience. Hired as an errand boy, Valek gathered information about the daily activities of the staff for a few weeks before discovering one way to get inside the royal apartments.
“Where’s Darrick?” one of the housekeeping servants asked. “He was supposed to clean the chamber pots hours ago.” She twisted her apron.
“He’s sick,” Valek said. “I heard him in the outhouse.” He lowered his voice. “It sounded bad.” Thanks to the dose of White Fright Valek had slipped him yesterday morning. “I’m between jobs, ma’am. I could dump them for you.”
She chewed on her lip.
“Unless you want to?”
“Heavens no. Follow me.” She set off.
Valek hurried to keep up. She led him to a wash station.
“You dump the contents into that bucket.” She pointed to a grungy, smelly metal pail. “Then you wash the pot in the soapy water, dry it and return it. When you’re done, take the bucket down to the outhouses and dump it. Understand?”
Ah, the glamorous life of an assassin. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” She escorted him through the royal suites and guest rooms, showing him the location of all the pots. The housekeeper watched him for a while, but soon another servant caught her attention and she hurried off.
As Valek continued cleaning pots, he noted the room locations, guards and who the other servants were. The next day, poor Darrick wasn’t any better and Valek filled in for him again. By the time Darrick was well enough to return to work, the housekeeper had assigned the boy to other duties. Darrick didn’t complain at all.
Valek learned as much as he could during his twice-daily forays into the royal apartments. Within a couple of weeks, he determined that he wouldn’t get close to the Queen or the King by cleaning chamber pots. However, he noticed one of the Queen’s women wasn’t a lady-in-waiting or a servant. She arrived in the morning and styled the Queen’s hair, picked out her gown for the day and applied makeup to Queen Jewel’s face. She would return again before dinner and help the Queen get ready for the evening meal. They spent much of the time alone in the Queen’s quarters. Her guards were banished to the outer rooms while she dressed.
He made a few discreet inquiries about this woman.
“Oh, that’s Parveen,” one of the biggest castle gossips said. “She has a little beauty shop in Jewelstown she won’t give up. The Queen indulges her because she’s supposedly the best.” The woman lowered her voice and leaned close. “I personally think the Queen can do better. Did you see her hair yesterday? It looked like a bird’s nest.” She tsked.
After he cleaned the pots in the morning, he followed Parveen into Jewelstown. Sure enough, she entered a shop along Lowell Street. Valek wouldn’t describe it as “little.” The place spanned almost a full block. Mirrors covered the walls, and chairs ringed the interior.
Customers filled those chairs as an army of beauticians worked on cutting and styling hair. A few barbers attended male customers. Parveen smiled brightly, calling to her associates. Soon she was braiding a young woman’s long copper hair.
Within a few hours, Valek understood why Parveen kept her shop. The women treated her with respect and kindness, unlike the Queen, and Parveen thrived in the homey atmosphere. As soon as Parveen left to return to the castle, her warm smile disappeared.
An idea sparked. This woman may be the key to getting to the King. He just had to figure out the best way to use her. Valek considered romancing her, but there’d be no reason for her to take him to her appointments with the Queen. He could disguise himself as Parveen. Except he didn’t have the hairstyling skills to convince the Queen. And while he could kill the Queen before having to fix her hair, he’d no idea how he’d reach the rest of the royals. No. He needed to be working inside the castle for a season at least.
After watching her and the shop for a few days, Valek formulated a plan. He ran his fingers through his hair. Good thing he hadn’t cut it in seasons. The black strands fell past his shoulders. Valek bought a long skirt, blouse, female undergarments, socks and a heavy shawl from a used clothing store.
As he worked to hide weapons, money and the diamonds in the skirt’s fabric, Valek smiled, remembering the teasing he’d gotten from the other students at Hedda’s school when he learned how to sew from the seamstress. He ignored the taunts of “King Knitter” because, unlike them, he understood how useful having skill with a needle and thread would be. Hedda taught them how to apply makeup and create disguises, but didn’t see the benefit in sewing.
With a small pack slung over his shoulder, Valek emerged from the inn where he’d been staying to live on the streets as Valma. After a week of scavenged food, sleeping in alleys and no bathing except to shave, he resembled a homeless teen girl. Valek avoided the dangerous crowd, but befriended a fringer to help him with the next part of his plan.
“Wait, you want me to pretend to rob the lady?” Bug asked.
The skinny boy was around thirteen, but he was tall for his age. His light green eyes were the only spots of color on him. His clothing, skin and greasy hair had been coated by multiple layers of gray street grime.
“Yes. Do you have a weapon?” Valek asked, pitching his voice higher so he sounded feminine.
Bug flicked open a shank made from an old razor blade, wood and wires. “I don’t know about this, Valma. What if the watchers show up?”
“They won’t.” Valek had already bribed a few town watchmen to avoid patrolling the area that night.
Bug scratched his neck. “So I jump the lady, demand money, and you come to the rescue, chasing me off?”
“Yes.”
“What for?”
“It’s better you don’t know.”
“Yeah? What’s in it for me?”
??
?A couple silvers.”
“How about I keep the lady’s purse? Gotta be more than two silvers in there,” Bug said.
“Do you want the town watch hunting for you?”
“No. All right, but I want four silvers.”
“Three or else I’ll ask Hoot.”
Bug scoffed. “Hoot won’t do it.”
“He will for three silvers.”
“Okay, but if I smell a watcher, I’m outta there.”
* * *
By this time, Valek knew Parveen’s routine by heart. She traveled the same streets to and from the castle unless she was running late. Tonight, the Queen kept her longer than normal, so instead of walking her typical route home, Parveen took a shortcut through a narrow street without lanterns. It saved her a few blocks and allowed Valek to put his plan into motion. Bug blended in with the dark factories facing the street.
When Parveen reached the halfway mark, Bug leaped from his hiding spot and pressed his blade to her neck. “Gimme all your money or I’ll slit your throat!”
She stared at him in shock. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound escaped. Parveen clutched her purse tight to her stomach.
A freezer, Valek thought as he slipped from his place and shouted, “Hey!”
Bug turned his head and cursed right before Valek slammed into him, knocking him down. The shank flew from his hand. Then Bug and Valek grappled for a bit before Bug scrambled to his feet and bolted.
During the entire encounter, Parveen stood blinking at them as if she couldn’t quite comprehend what had just happened.
“Are you all right?” Valek asked in a falsetto. “There’s no blood.”
At the word blood, Parveen gasped and touched her neck. “Oh my...he wanted my money... I’d never...”
“He’s gone now. You’re safe.”
“I am...” And then with more animation, “I am, thanks to you!”
Valek shrugged. “Are you going to report this to the town watch?”
“I... Did you get a good look at him?”
“A street rat like me.”
“Oh.” She peered at him as if seeing him for the first time. “I...don’t think so. No harm done and I’m late for...” Parveen drew in a breath as if to steady her nerves. She opened her purse. “Here, let me give you—”
“No, thanks. That’s not why I helped you.”
“Surely you could use some money for food?”
“Yeah, but it’s...” He glanced at the ground. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
Gotcha. He met her gaze. “I’d rather earn a living then beg for it.”
“Then why don’t you apply for a job?”
Valek gestured to his shabby and stained clothes—street living was hard on a skirt. “Most people won’t let me into their place of business let alone hire me.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, you can work for me.”
He acted surprised. “Really?”
“Yes. As long as you don’t mind cleaning up hair and washing towels?”
“I don’t mind.”
“All right, then. What’s your name?”
“Valma.”
“Valma, I’m Parveen. Let’s go and I’ll introduce you to my staff.”
Parveen not only hired him, but let him stay in a small room above the beauty shop and gave him an advance payment so he could buy clean clothes. All in all, a lovely woman. He hoped he wouldn’t have to kill her.
* * *
Valek worked hard in the beauty shop. Leery at first, the staff welcomed him once Parveen explained how he’d saved her life. He paid attention to the stylists and after two weeks they showed him a few basics. His finger dexterity proved to be useful for braiding hair and soon he learned how to weave the strands into intricate patterns. Then it was only a matter of time before he had his own clients.
“You’re a natural,” Parveen said one day as she admired his work.
Valek discovered that cutting and styling hair was similar to carving a stone. You started with a formless mass and then you shaped it into a thing of beauty.
After a season of working in the shop, Valek felt confident not only in his ability to blend in as a female, but in his ability to set the next phase of his plan in motion. Getting to this point had taken almost two seasons. He had only about ten weeks left until the Commander arrived.
One morning near the end of the warming season, Parveen arrived to open the shop. Sweat beaded her pale face and she moved as if she walked on the deck of a boat in storm-tossed seas. She pressed a hand to her mouth while her other groped for a chair.
Valek rushed to her side and helped her sit down. “You look awful.”
“I feel awful.” She hunched forward, resting her forehead in her hands.
“Let me take you home. You should sleep.”
“I can’t. The Queen—”
“Wouldn’t want to get sick.”
“She thinks she’s immune. That illness only strikes commoners.” Parveen pushed to her feet. “I’d better leave now. It’ll take me...” She wobbled. “Longer.”
“I’m coming with you,” Valek said.
“But—”
“Do you want to be alone when you pass out in the street? If that’s the case, leave your purse here.”
“All right.”
It took forever to get Parveen to the castle and up to Queen Jewel’s rooms. Before Parveen collapsed into a chair to catch her breath, Valek pricked her with a sleeping potion.
“Why are you here?” the Queen demanded. “What’s wrong with her?”
This was the first time Valek had seen the Queen in person. Known for bewitching the King with her exquisiteness, her emerald eyes, long eyelashes, full lips, high cheekbones, curvy figure and flawless skin were legendary, yet he found no beauty within her. He curtsied and explained.
“Help her stand, then. I need my hair done.”
But Parveen had passed out. He made a show of trying to wake her.
Impatient, Queen Jewel strode over and slapped her cheek. Hard. “Wake up, Parveen. I will not be late for my appointments.” She reached back to deliver another blow.
Valek stepped close and the Queen’s hand slammed into his back instead. It stung. The lady had an arm. He ignored the pain. “If I may, your majesty. I can style your hair for you.”
“You?” Her cold gaze swept over him.
“I’ve been working with Parveen for seasons.”
She glanced back at the unconscious woman and sighed. “All right, but if I look hideous I’m sending you to the gallows.”
Nice lady. The idea of killing her no longer seemed so heartless.
The Queen settled into an overstuffed chair facing a mirror. Valek gathered her long thick auburn hair in his hands. It reached halfway down her back and flowed like silk. He studied her oval-shaped face and slightly pointed chin, deciding on a style that would enhance her features.
With quick, sure motions, he pinned her hair up, creating rows of curls that gathered into an intricate knot at the back of her head. Then he pulled a few tendrils down to drape over her shoulders. Without being asked, he sorted through her gowns and selected a pale green one trimmed with cream lace. Then he matched her makeup to the colors of the gown and sewed an extra piece of lace onto a barrette, clipping it into her hair. He fished a long pearl necklace from her overflowing jewelry box. It was so long that he looped it three times around her neck to create a cascading effect over her décolletage.
When finished, she surveyed herself in the ring of full-length mirrors for a long time. “Quiet, quick and efficient. What’s your name?”
“Valma, your majesty.”
“All right, Valma, you can fill in until Parveen is better.”
“Thank you. I’ll take her home and be right back.”
“Back?”
“Just in case you need your makeup fixed or would like a new hairstyle for the afternoon.”
“What about your clients?” she asked.
He gave her a puzzled expression. “No one is more important than you. I’ll cancel all my appointments.”
Her expression grew distant and he saw the wheels turning. Had he hooked her?
“Can you stay overnight, as well?” she asked.
Yes. “If it pleases your majesty.”
“It does.” She returned to gazing at herself in the mirror.
* * *
By the time Parveen felt better, Valek had usurped her. Parveen took the news well. Actually, she seemed relieved and was thrilled with the diamond thank-you gift for her years of service that was supposedly from the Queen. Happy that he didn’t have to kill Parveen, Valek settled into his new position. The Queen assigned him a small two-room apartment between the guest wing and her suite.
Between grooming sessions with the Queen, he explored every inch of the castle. He marked the location of every member of the royal family’s sleeping quarters except the King’s. Valek avoided encountering the King. He’d seen paintings of the man—tall, broad-shouldered, with graying black hair and rugged good looks, but Valek worried if he saw the King in person, he’d kill him right there.
No. Valek planned to strike in the middle of the night—an assassin’s best friend. And the only time the King spent without his entourage of guards was when he visited the Queen’s bedroom at night, which wasn’t often or predictable. And with the rumblings of revolt in the air, his visits became more infrequent. At least when the King planned to visit her, she received word in the early evening and she’d call Valek to style her hair the way the King liked it.
When the warm season drew to a close, Valek took an evening off to go into Jewelstown. He changed before meeting the Commander. The fabric of his pants chafed against his thighs and calves. He’d been wearing a skirt so long, pants now seemed to restrict his movements—odd and amusing at the same time.
Valek looped around the Black Cat Tavern. A clash of voices and clangs of dishes and mugs poured from the open windows—normal tavern sounds. Too bad the four goons hiding in the shadows around the building were not standard. Assassins? No. They were too easy to spot. Valek waited until a group of people entered and he slipped inside with them.