"Vi?"
Princess Lilliana murmured as she stirred in her vast, unfamiliar bed. Sunlight, muted by the heavy velvet curtains, painted dim stripes across the room. She blinked, rubbing her eyes to dispel the lingering silks of sleep and the residue of the calming draught Doctor Rye had administered. Her head felt thick, and vague, unpleasant images from the previous night flickered at the edges of her memory – a scream, the scent of blood, a terrifying coldness.
She looked around. Her grand chamber was quiet, save for the soft rustling of maids moving about. Elara and Lyra, the two young women assigned to her, were already busy. One was preparing a steaming bath in the adjoining marble chamber, its herbal scent just reaching Lilliana; the other was laying out a day dress of soft rose-colored silk and a selection of simple jewelry on a nearby chaise lounge.
Lilliana pushed herself up against the plush pillows. "Vi?" she called out, her voice a little hoarse. She looked around the room, expecting to see her Lady in waiting.
One of the maids, Elara, paused in her task of arranging silver-backed brushes on the dressing table and curtsied. "Good morning, Your Highness. I trust you slept well?"
"Well enough," Lilliana murmured. "Excuse me, where is Vi?"
The maid looked momentarily confused. "I beg your pardon, Your Highness, I am not familiar with that name amongst the palace staff."
Lilliana managed a weak smile. "Oh, I am so sorry, my mistake. I meant my Lady-in-Waiting, Lady Viviana. Has she risen yet?"
"Ah, forgive my ignorance, Your Highness," Elara replied, her expression clearing. "Lady Viviana was up before sunrise, I believe. She mentioned she was going to the West Wing Library. She said something about wishing to procure some… uplifting reading material, perhaps a light romance or a book of poetry, for you, Your Highness. To help you relax and recover your spirits after…" She paused then looked at Lyra and continued. " … after last night."
Lilliana's stomach gave a little lurch at the reminder. "Oh," she said faintly. "Yes, that is… very thoughtful of her. Alright. Thank you, Elara."
"Your bath is ready, Your Highness," Lyra announced quietly from the doorway of the bathing chamber. "It is scented with calming chamomile and rose petals, as per Doctor Rye's specific suggestion."
Lilliana pushed the heavy covers off her body, a shiver tracing its way down her spine that had little to do with the morning chill. "Wonderful. I'm coming."
Meanwhile, Viviana clutched a small handful of books to her chest as she paced the quiet, dusty aisles of the West Wing Library. The scent of old parchment and honey was a familiar comfort, but her mind was far from settled. She had selected one slim volume of Tobitian love poetry for Lilliana, a necessary prop, but the other two tomes were far more practical: a detailed history of the Eldorian royal line and a surprisingly comprehensive atlas of Eldoria and its surrounding territories, complete with notes on fortifications.
"Right," her thoughts churned, cold and precise. "One inept assassin from the Veil Guild has been dealt with by the Prince himself, but this kingdom, this palace, likely harbors more hidden threats – and more opportunities. And Dominic… he's not just a brute with a sword; he's a brutally efficient and intelligent one. This isn't going to be a simple in-and-out mission." She steadied her hand to prevent the books from falling. " The kill list Talon provided is extensive, clearly designed to cripple Eldoria's leadership. Who should I prioritize to create the most… strategically useful ripples before I take down the main target?" She asked herself.
"Eliminating General Vorlag, the commander of the Iron Legion, might cause significant internal strife and weaken their military readiness. Or perhaps Lord Chancellor Marius, notoriously corrupt and widely despised; his death could be spun as an internal purge, sowing further distrust within the court. But Dominic… he's the ultimate prize, the head of the serpent. He feels like someone who needs to be dealt with last, after his primary supports are meticulously weakened or removed. I still have ninety-nine days. Ample time for careful, orderly planning. No need to rush and make a critical error, not with a target as dangerous as him."
Lost in these grim calculations, her gaze unfocused, she turned a corner at the end of an aisle too quickly.
BAM!
She collided with something solid – something very tall and unyielding. The books flew from her grasp, scattering across the polished floor. Viviana herself stumbled backwards, lost her footing, and landed with a distinct, undignified hard thump on her bottom.
"Oof! Ouch!!!" she exclaimed, genuine pain shooting through her. Without thinking, she spat. "Good heavens, can't you watch where you're planting your enormous, clumsy feet, you blind bat? I never knew they allowed such lumbering dolts to roam freely around the palace corridors! Some people possess absolutely no spatial awareness whatsoever!" She rubbed her backside vigorously, glaring up, ready to deliver another piece of her mind.
Her rank died in her throat. Towering over her was Prince Dominic.
He was dressed not in courtly silks, but in a simple, practical black tunic that hugged his broad shoulders, dark, close-fitting trousers, and sturdy, knee-high leather boots. It was training attire, strikingly similar to what she herself would wear for rigorous practice with the Abyss Guild. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd already been engaged in some strenuous activity. He stood perfectly still, dusting an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve with an air of grim annoyance, one dark eyebrow slightly raised as he regarded her sprawled on the floor. His blue eyes were piercing like chipped ice.
Mortification, cold and swift, washed over Viviana. Her eyes widened in horror. She scrambled to her feet, wincing as her bruised tailbone protested. The "innocent, flustered lady" facade slammed back into place with near-audible effort.
"Oh! Oh, Your Royal Highness!" she gasped, her voice suddenly breathy and high-pitched. "A thousand, thousand apologies! Please, I implore you, forgive my abominable clumsiness! And my… my utterly dreadful and uncalled-for words! It was a shocking outburst! I… I didn't see where I was going! I was completely lost in thought, no excuse at all! It's entirely my fault! How terribly, terribly clumsy of me! Please, Your Highness, I beg your pardon! I am so very sorry!" She executed a series of deep, rapid curtsies, bowing her head low.
Prince Dominic didn't say anything for a long, unnerving moment, just continued to stare at her with that unnerving, penetrating intensity. Then, his voice, low and flat, sliced through her babbling apologies with two carefully aired words that sounded more like an accusation than a question: "Blind… bat? Dolt?"
Viviana risked a tiny peek up from beneath her eyelashes. His expression was unreadable but certainly not forgiving. A nervous, slightly hysterical chuckle escaped her. "A… a manner of speaking, Your Highness! A rather… unfortunate and ignorant turn of phrase from a silly, frivolous book I was perusing! Utterly meaningless, truly! Nonsense words! I am dreadfully, profoundly sorry, Your Highness! So very, very sorry!" She bowed again, wishing the floor would swallow her whole.
Just then, Lord Theodore rounded the corner, also dressed for training in a dark brown tunic and similar attire to Dominic. He took in the scene at a glance: books scattered carelessly across the floor, Viviana bowing deeply and looking utterly flustered and pale, and Dominic standing over her like a thundercloud about to burst.
Viviana lifted her head slightly, her eyes meeting Theodore's. A flicker of desperate hope for rescue crossed her face. She immediately dropped her gaze and bent down, almost kneeling, to start frantically gathering the scattered books, her cheeks burning.
Theodore started to bend to assist her. "Allow me, Lady Viviana…" he began, his voice kind.
"Oh no, my lord, please! It was entirely my clumsiness that caused this mess. I shall manage perfectly. Thank you ever so much for the offer," Viviana stammered, desperate to escape the Prince's presence. She snatched up the books, nearly dropping one again in her haste, offered a wobbly, all-encompassing curtsy to both Dominic and Theodore without daring to look at the Prince again, and then practically fled down the corridor, her dignity in tatters.
Theodore turned to Dominic, who was still standing there, an unreadable, almost grim expression on his face as he watched Viviana's hasty retreat.
"Well," Theodore said, a hint of amusement lacing his tone, "that was… rather eventful for this, early in the morning. What happened here, Dom? Did you accidentally startle the poor girl into a stupor?"
Dominic didn't answer his cousin's question directly. Instead, after a long moment, his gaze still fixed on the empty corridor where Viviana had vanished, he asked, his voice flat and lacked his usual intonation, "Theodore… what, precisely, is a 'dolt'?"
Theodore's eyes widened almost softly, and the corner of his mouth twitched as he struggled to suppress a smile. He cleared his throat. "A 'dolt,' cousin?" he repeated, drawing out the word as if tasting it. "Well, if my understanding of the less… shall we say, courtly vocabulary is accurate, I believe it is not a 'what' but rather a 'who.' And, generally speaking, it refers to… ah… an idiot. A fool. Someone remarkably stupid or clumsy."
Prince Dominic of Eldoria turned slowly to look at his cousin. His usual cold, impassive composure was, for a fleeting instant, shattered. His dark eyebrows shot up towards his hairline, and a flicker of genuine surprise – quickly followed by a distinct shadow of offense – crossed his stern features. "She called me… an idiot?"