Fuck.

He has my bracelet.

Of the many things that could have happened at the market, encountering the fallen prince was not one of them. I did not expect to see him there— let alone be recognized and pursued.

It has been years.

And now he has my only tangible link to them— to the few souls I cherish that have transcended the realm of mortality. That bracelet is more than an accessory, it is my only reminder of them. I need it back.

Nieven casts me a worried glance from across the dining table. We were discussing which clients to accept for the next two months when I noticed the bracelet missing.

“Did something happen?” he asks.

I shake my head, “I’ve an errand to run tomorrow. It won’t take long but you should have someone else take over my training session.”

Last spring, he had assigned me two newcomers to teach the subtle, and painful, art of poison. Neither displayed remarkable talent, they were fragile and easily broke from the smallest dose of snake venom I made them try. Heaven knows I survived far worse as a child alone in the slums of Haskova. But I came through it stronger; they, however, seemed determined to shatter with every step.

At least they were willing.

“I’m sure they won’t mind a day off. You’re too harsh on them,” he says.

“Are they not alive still?” I retort. Their predecessors were not so lucky.

“Barely, seeing as they end up in the infirmary every week,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes at me.

“They need to build their tolerance,” I scowl and get up to leave. The initial step to becoming a poisonous vessel is to train resistance by self-administering non-lethal doses of poison and gradually increasing its amount. Eventually, their bodily fluids adopt the chosen poison’s qualities and it should last permanently as long as they regularly take small doses. Should they decide to stop, it would take years to flush everything out of their system.

My own process is not as limited: thanks to the magicke that flows within my blood, I can survive higher doses of even the most potent poisons. The pain initially hits me with its full power and some are lethal enough to have my blood boiling, with the only relief being to lose some blood. Any ordinary human would simply combust from the heat and pressure. The only downsides are that small doses render ineffective and that even with higher ones, the effect can last only a few days at most— just like my hair and eyes.

Now, what poison should I use on the prince?

The next morning, I head to the market and look for the alley where Serevin and I crossed paths. My hair and eye color are the same brown shade they were yesterday. It should help him recognize me. But, perhaps I did not need to make such an effort as the prince is already waiting.

“I was only half expecting you,” Serevin greets and I notice three figures standing closely behind him. Guards. Two males, one female.

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“Give me the bracelet,” I say, walking closer.

One of the male guards draws his sword, “Do not come near. The general tells of your poisonous hands.”

That snitch.

He is the reason why I have been stuck teaching the two kids when I should be out finishing off targets. The crown prince presented Rowe as a suspect and one of the general’s guards confessed that he was plotting something with an unnamed lady from a shady guild. Rowe used my name to clear his own during the trials, claiming I threatened him under the prince’s orders. And that I attempted to poison him when he declined. He told tales of how the prince sought me out to murder his niece. It did not help the prince’s case that he was seen with me in that stairwell.

“I didn’t think he’d be so willing to share my secrets when I’ve been doing such a good job keeping his own,” I pout.

“You were the ginger-headed dancer that day, yes?” Serevin asks and I remain quiet.

The other guard swears, “I should have seen it.”

Ah, he was the one who ruined my makeup.

“And you were the ones who publicly humiliated me. Now that we’ve had our introductions, hand me the bracelet,” I tell them.

“You aren’t getting it back until you confess to murdering Lucille under General Rowe’s orders at court,” Serevin says.

“Oh, is that your conclusion? I can neither confirm nor deny it now if you want me confessing later on,” I laugh.

Serevin glares and confusion dawns on the guards’ faces.

“Elaborate.”

“I die the moment I say anything I know,” I shrug.

When a client makes a deal with me, an oath is sworn that I keep things confidential. That oath is quite literal— it is why Chameleon is held in such high regard and most of its clientele are high-ranking nobles.

“We’ll take you to court and you can die there,” he concludes.

I truly do not mind dying. But to an oath?

It lacked flare. And it tarnishes my reputation. I am, after all, the best of Chameleon. I would prefer shriveling to ashes from poison or at least death by the hands of a target that could outwit me. No one has come close so far.

“Who are you to order me around? You have no authority here. Then again, you have no authority anywhere, Serevin,” I mock.

“We’ll find another way,” the only female guard seethes, nostrils flaring.

“Did I offend you? I meant it with all my heart,” I laugh.

“You forget. I hold your dear bracelet with me. It must be important seeing as you came back for it,” Serevin dangles my bracelet with two fingers.

It is broken but could still be fixed. I hold my tongue as it sways in the wind, my laugh turning into a scowl.

“It seems I’ve offended you,” he smirks.

I clench my fists, refusing to yield. But that bracelet is my only way to keep those people close— “What if you’re wrong and I’m leading you to make a fool of yourself?” I ask.

“I’m never wrong,” he smirks.

Arrogant prick.

“Quite the big risk you’re taking, you must be desperate,” I mock.

He ignores my remark and says, “I guess it’s a done deal,” as he pockets the bracelet.

It is almost comedic how attachments make one so gullible they would trade their life in exchange for a mere bracelet you could find being sold at any market at a cheap price. I chuckle at the incredulous decision I was about to make.

I nod.