The good thing about being trapped in the room for two days is that people who've taken a liking to you would pity you enough to bring different things to occupy oneself. I sit in front of the window, bars of light shining iridescent along the white canvas and charcoal dustings that litter my hands, face, and paper. Poppy brought me little art supplies she found in the house; supplies that weren't in use. Blue even joined in and snuck me some blue and yellow paint; although it didn't suit the theme I'm focusing on, I took the paint anyway. I sketch drawings of my old home, black and orange for the trees I could see from my bedroom window. The pond just beyond the clearing that always gave Alec, Faith and I pneumonia and an extended lecture from my parents. I needed a distraction. Thinking about the man underground, locked behind bars until his trial is heard, is not helping my case.
Oh how I would love to understand what he meant. By this game he spoke about. It's been like a knawing sensation in my brain, but now that it's quiet; it's all I hear.
I scratch until the pencil breaks in my hand and I sigh, slumping a bit against the bed frame. I look to the door; the door that is now guarded by sweet sweet Poppy since Rider had to tend to the guests coming here tonight; oversee their safe trip here or something like that. I didn't listen when the General warned me not to make a scene and stay in the shadows. All I heard was: sweet, sweet reprieve...and some time to plan a little chaos.
I gather my things and set them on the table before sauntering to the door, knocking twice as I'd told Poppy I'd do.
She opens the lock, peeking through the chain still attached to the door from the outside.
"I need more colour. Something pretty. I don't think Blue would have anything bright enough for a sunset would she?"
Poppy inclines her head, thinking. I pretend to think too. Although I already know what I want.
"Ah! I hear the sleeping flowers give a perfect yellow hue once mixed with tumeric. Can you fetch me some?"
She doesn't respond. Instead she purses her lips, looking down the hall in case someone was to magically pop up and reprimand her.
I apologize to her in my head, reminding myself I'll make it up to her...somehow. "If you can't get it, I'll be as quiet as—" She shakes her head vigorously, interrupting me. I smile mentally at that. Once the sleeping flowers are obtained, I can set the plan in motion. All I need now is a little girl who usually makes her way to the gardens at four for a stroll with her dolls.
When Poppy leaves, I count the minutes in my head. There are a lot of guests in the house. Making a path to the gardens on the outside is going to be tough. A shadow rounds the corner two minutes later; small and pocket sized. I whistle, the sound of a blue bird. A tiny head peaks around the corner, a teddy bear hanging from her hand.
She approaches the door with a little smile, analysing the lock like another toy to play with. "Hey Blue." I coo, hoping she's not a michevious child who'd lock me in the room and run away giggling. "I know you're going to the gardens. May I come with you? I hear there's a lot of people here tonight, do you want to have some fun?"
She looks at me curiously but doesn't hesitate. She unlocks the door and reaches for my sleeve, sauntering toward the garden. I have to be back before Poppy enters my room to find me missing. Then I'll be in deep shit.
We creep through the house as fast as possible, as I tell Blue all about the royal blue stink bugs that live around the rose bushes. She grins at me like she knows exactly where this is going.
The gardens are clear, that's expected considering nobody would be wandering outside. There are, however, guards at the other end of the garden to keep watch for any outside intruders. I place a finger to my lips, motioning for Blue to stay quiet. She giggles, a sound so childlike a warmth bubbles inside me and I laugh silently too.
We wander to the rose bushes, instantly spotting the suspects that's going to cause a riot for the pristine, elegant people entering the hall about now.
We gather as much as we could before racing back to my room. Blue didn't question the game. All she knew is that she had to lock me back in my room before Poppy returned. Then she plants the bombs and aggravates the stink bugs so they set off at the right time. As one of Blue's main caretakers, Poppy will be summoned to address the scene and by then Blue will be back at my room, unlocking the door for me to race to the dungeons.
It all goes as planned, screams and glass breaking and loud shouts from Daina paints a smile on my face. The thing about the stink bugs is not only their scent. They're called Puffers where I grew up; known for marking anything and everything they land on in a colour of radiant royal blue once they emit their little defense mechanism.
I hear Rider call for Blue, Poppy's footsteps fade down the hallway. Then the door clicks open.
I wink at the little girl, patting her on the head. The glimmer in her eyes and the royal blue hues decorating her hair and face tells me that I've just created a mini monster. I should know. I had that same look on my face as a child.
I throw a cloak over my shoulders, gathering the flowers Poppy gifted me only minutes earlier. I know that there are two guards who usually man the door to the dungeons at this hour. They're shifts don't end until midnight, but I don't have enough time to wait until then.
I take two lefts, a right, and another left, down a flight of stairs that leads to another section of the house. I manage to stay on light feet, entering alcoves at any sign of a passing guard or a clank of armour against armour. I feel my lungs build with pressure as every step contains a high probability of me being caught. Then, there is the hall that leads to the dungeons. I crouch at the intersection, preparing the flowers. When I was younger, instead of flowers we used bags of powder. We'd attach it to a stick and throw it as far as we could, the contact disarming the string and letting the bag fall; releasing a bloom of the colour of our choosing. This is no different. With a bag filled with sleeping flower powder attached to a long stick I picked up in the garden, I jump out of my hiding place and throw it as hard as I could. I hear the knock before I can look up, the guards holler and shout at me. The cloak accompanied with the darkness of the hall makes it hard to see, but the familiar colour permeating the hall and the heavy thuds of two bodies are all I need for confirmation. I pull my mask up, grabbing the keys from the guards pocket and entering the chamber.
The man sits at the end of the cell hallway. Elbows propped on his knees, a distant look in his eyes. "What the hell do you want?" He hisses.
"I want to negotiate." I throw my hood back and step up to the cage. His eyes scan me, knowing well the trouble I'm risking just by being here.
"A dead man does not negotiate."
"You're not dead yet." I retort. His eyebrow quirks warily, contemplating.
"Okay. What the hell do you want with me?"
"I want to ensure that on your way to the trial tomorrow, you'll keep my name a secret." He laughs at my request, and I know why.
"You had no qualms about giving them my name. Why should I keep yours?"
"I know you have a daughter." His face drops, jaw clenching hard. "Even a dying assassin would want to say something to his daughter. I can help give them compensation. Somehow."
"How exactly are you planning on doing that? You were sent to do one task and you couldn't even—"
"Stealing and killing are two very very different tasks Ansel. You may question me in that department but I'm very skilled at other things. Don't dismiss it just yet."
"You'd go this far just for me to keep your name a secret?" It sounds mocking. He intends for me to ask something else so he might have me under debt. But I know by his face that this means a great deal to him; keeping a name is the least he can do.
"Tell me what you meant earlier. You said it was getting more dangerous. No one should know of another's failed mission unless they're already rotting six feet under. I was given an extension. I want to believe you have knowledge of the logic behind it."
His fingers touch each other in contemplation. Each one touching the other in a rhythm; a pattern. "If I give this information to you, how am I guaranteed you'll really help me?"
I knew this question was coming. Before he can finish I take out a sharpened piece of wood and slice my finger as hard as I can. He looks beyond disbelief, but my heart is racing too fast to process it. Whatever information it is, it's priceless. "I am now bound by blood and by honour. By decree of the Reaper, those before and after, I shall pledge honesty to our alliance until the debt is paid."
He looks at my finger, muttering something under his breath; most likely the same words of an oath I've just recited. There's no going back now.
"I am under another oath as to not share this information. So I will be very, very vague. The rest is up to you." I nod for him to continue and he slumps against the wall. "The Reaper sees it necessary to eliminate those who...would not fit his future agenda. Instead of doing it himself or sending hitmen, he's made it into...something else."
"What do you mean something else?"
I can see him struggling to find words. To find a loophole through his original oath. "Have you ever played chess Skye?" I nod, a wary look obscuring my curiosity. "I hear that the boss likes games. One where there is only one victor." He looks around at the walls, then the bars of the cage. Then to me. "One where the weak and the soldiers and the strong are thrown into the ring."
"You're being more vague than I'd expected."
"I can't do much for you at this point. There's a wolf among your little herd. You can't trust anyone, Skye. Not even your own intuition." With that, silence follows. The cogs in my head turn violently, grease slicking the metal. But I can't seem to match them together. "I'll keep your name a secret. My daughter's name is Irimya. She lives in Poor Man's Grove, near the old cathedral. She knows who you are. If you don't find her, she'll find you."
That was all that was left to be said. I make my way through the chambers once more, stepping over the guards that are beginning to move from a temporary slumber, then lock myself back into my room before Poppy or Rider can know.
Two hours later and the sketch in front of me still remains a mystery. A sketch of a chess board, the black charcoal pieces roughly drawn on the paper not making it any easier for my concentration. Poppy has left the door as a temporary guard, which means there is no way I'm leaving this room again until the Big Man needs me – also highly improbable. A knock at the door catches my attention and I sit up, wary and confused. They don't usually knock. A head peaks through the cracked door, a familiar semi-drunk smile stretching from ear to ear.
"Hello madam." Kay closes the door behind him; to what I should have noticed was an empty hallway.
"Has Rider not been there all this time?"
"He's escorting the Duke of Lansleigh back to his city."
I drop my charcoal stick in shock, recalling all the chaos that happened while I spoke to Ansel. "The Duke of another city was here? Did Blue get into trouble?" Had I known there were vastly superior people at the feast I would've never put her in that position. Then again, the General can take responsibility for not telling me.
"Actually, many of them were present. And no, she didn't. I don't think murder will even be enough for the General to punish Blue." He laughed, rounding my hunched frame on the floor and studying my crap drawing. "Are you playing fake chess by yourself? Have you already gone mad? Your trial period hasn't even ended yet."
"I can assure you I'm perfectly sane. I'm trying to figure something out."
"Anything I can help with while I'm supervising?" Kay slumps to his haunches, his thick dreadlocks obscuring my view of the paper. "Well first of all the king is in the wrong place."
"I'm aware of that, I was in a rush. Say there were more than two players. Many kings and queens and bishops and pawns. What strategy do you think would win with that many people?"
"Chess is about strategy yes, but with that many opponents your best bet is not what kind, but if it's better than your opponents." He takes the charcoal from my hand and draws an X on the King. "The Queen is the winning piece. Your strategy won't be to ultimately annihilate her but to leave her defenceless. There is no best way to win or the perfect strategy, but how well you use your opponents moves against them."
"Something tell me you always win the chess games."
"Oh, no, I failed constantly but it sounded smart enough."
A light chuckle leaves me and it's the best I've felt in days. Maybe, just maybe, I could survive my eternal imprisonment in this fake lonesome, castle.
"Why are you contemplating these things?"
"Bored. I've been locked in here for two days."
"Hmm." He hums and stands, hands delving into his pockets. His stance changes, so does his aura. His smile is no longer his but I'm assuming it's from the lighting in the room.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes. Although I've been wondering...do you feel guilty for manipulating the two softest people in this house?"
My heart skips a beat, my outer senses kicking in. My guard goes up almost like a reflex. "Pardon me?"
"You know, I had no idea who you were until I was told to take this job. The poor General needed men after his trust was betrayed. Who better to fill that place but a humble soul from Ruse in search of a better life."
I'm up on my feet instantly, hands fisted into tight balls. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Calm down girl. You'll make a scene."
"And I'm damn well good at it too so answer the question."
He smirks, dark and cunning; a look I've never seen on Kay or at least who I thought was Kay. "My name is Arman. You may call me whatever you like." A familiar smile stretched on his face; kind, attentive, soft. Fake. "We have a lot to talk about Skye. You're a few days late."