“No, I will not help you.”
Those were Rahim’s words after Aodhán pulled him aside and asked for his help with the mission.
“The principal has instructed me to simply be a spectator.” He continued and took a sip of his drink. “Besides, I believe that by now, you've had enough time to come up with at least a decent plan.”
“My plan is shit.” Aodhán hissed. “Even with the help of my brothers, we’re relying too much on chance for half of it.”
“Hmm, chance is a cruel mistress.” Rahim mused. “You can’t afford to rely on her.”
“I know that! That’s why I need your help.”
Rahim shook his head. “Sadly, I cannot help you, but if you do not believe in the plan you’ve come up with, you can always cancel the mission. This isn’t a do-or-die affair.”
Aodhán sighed. “I don’t want to cancel the mission.”
“Why not?” Rahim asked, his gaze narrowing as he leaned forward. “Do you also crave the attention and approval of the esteemed Zatya Malakov?”
Aodhán scowled. “I don’t care for her approval.”
“Then why are you still going through with a mission that is obviously above your pay grade?” Rahim hissed. “At your tier, this mission is incredibly hard. There would be no shame in having the good sense to cancel it.”
“I know that!” Aodhán hissed back. “I just—he glanced around the hall before leaning forward to whisper—I can’t quit because I don’t want to. For some bizarre reason, I want to see this through, even though I keep bitching about it. Besides, I don’t have a choice in the war. Whether I like it or not, I’ll have to fight. It’s important that I try to learn all that I can before then.”
Rahim observed him for a moment before nodding. “You’re right; you do not have a choice in the matter. You’re too strong to be left on the sidelines.”
Rahim’s words saddened him, but Aodhán had already made peace with the matter a long time ago.
"I doubt this mission will offer you much insight into the realities of war," Rahim remarked, his brow furrowed as he considered Aodhán's words. After a brief pause, he shrugged and added, "Still, it wouldn't hurt to absorb whatever knowledge you can from the principal. There's a reason why she's both feared and respected across the kingdom.”
Aodhán pushed aside the urge to ask what this reason was and instead asked. “So, will you help me?”
“My answer remains no, Aodhán. I will not, may not, and cannot help you. This is your mission, not mine.”
“What if I fail?” Aodhán hissed, his gaze urging Rahim to reconsider, but Rahim remained adamant. “Then you’ll be put in jail like any other criminal.”
Aodhán froze, his eyes widening slightly in alarm. Of course, he knew the consequences of thievery, and Daruk hadn’t hesitated to remind him of it at least a hundred times in the last few days, but at the back of his mind, Aodhán had thought the principal or Rahim would step in before things became that dire. Surely, the principal wouldn’t leave him to suffer for a mission that she’d given him. Right?
Lowering the tone of his voice, he asked. “Surely, she would bail me out if, hypothetically speaking, I was caught and thrown in jail for this. Right?”
“Certainly.” Rahim nodded. “You’re her pet project, after all. Although, I suspect the speed with which she would do so would depend heavily on how disappointed she’ll be at your failure.”
Aodhán swallowed nervously and glared at Aldric, who was speaking animatedly with Rahim’s escort, before turning back to Rahim. “This just means I can’t afford to fail. Besides, a few hours or days in jail can’t be so terrible, right?”
Rahim chuckled and took another sip of his drink. “I shall pray to the ascendants that you do not find out.”
Aodhán left Rahim after that and headed towards the center of the hall, where Imani stood with her family. He needed to be near her throughout the evening. Their entire plan depended on it, and from what Rahim had just said, he couldn’t afford to fail.
He ignored Meredith’s inviting yet rude expression as he made his way towards Imani. Their plan was simple: seduce Imani. As crass as the plan sounded, it could actually work if everything went according to plan. ‘If’ was the determining factor in the equation, but they had to work with what they had, and frankly, they didn’t have much.
He glanced over at Makeba, their target, who was standing only a few feet away from Imani, discussing animatedly with a beautiful woman whom Aodhán suspected to be Meredith’s mother. His gaze dipped to Makeba’s waist, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he found a pouch of opiates tied to it.
After several hours of reconnaissance—rummaging through old newspapers and magazines on the Blackwell family—they'd found out that Makeba had an opiate addiction. Predictably, they had based their entire plan around that. It was foolish, as Aodhán knew, but like he said earlier, the plan could work if everything went according to plan.
Like many nobles who could afford the expensive drug, Makeba was addicted to the use of opiates. But unlike others who preferred to keep their shameful addiction a secret, Makeba gloried in hers, going so far as to keep an opiate pouch tied to her waist at all times instead of stashing it away within a spatial storage. Aodhán accepted the cosmic assistance without question, as it had made their mission much simpler. All they needed was for Aldric to steal the pouch and then somehow convince Makeba that she needed to get another.
Aodhán was surprised when Aldric agreed to do the plan, especially since what they were asking of him was dangerously close to mind control and Aldric wasn't a telepath. However, Aldric insisted on carrying out the task, and although Aodhán and Daruk pressed him for details on how he intended to pull it off, Aldric had refused to clarify or explain. After a few minutes of futile probing, Aodhán and Daruk decided to revisit the topic later. Some other time, they didn’t have the threat of jail hanging above their heads.
When Aodhán finally reached Imani, he offered a small bow and smiled. "Greetings, Lady Blackwell."
Imani chuckled, returning the gesture with a relaxed bow, clearly more at ease with him than she once was. She nodded towards a woman Aodhán recognized as her mother and said, “I’m afraid that title belongs to my mother over there; besides, we’re housemates; we needn’t stand on formality.”
“Very well. I won’t stand on formality.” Aodhán grinned and sidled closer. “Congratulations on your father’s birthday. Has he made an appearance yet?”
Imani snorted. “It’ll probably be a while before he does. My father loves to make an entrance.” She shook her head, grabbed two drinks from a passing servant, and handed one to him. “I hope you’re enjoying the party.”
Aodhán accepted the glass and shrugged. “The party’s great; I mean, we’ve only just arrived, but the music, the lights, the ambience—everything’s great.”
“Why then are you standing here by your lonesome?”
“Correction, I’m standing here with you.” Aodhán chuckled and glanced around the hall once more. “Besides, I’m kind of avoiding talking to people. If you’ll let me, I don’t mind hanging by your side all night.”
Imani blushed and looked away, having not expected such a comment from him. She stuttered for a moment before responding. “I didn’t realize I was your favorite person.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Aodhán leaned forward and smiled, fully aware of what he was doing. “We never had beef, Imani. You know that.”
Imani shrugged, not fully convinced, and Aodhán cursed his luck. Obviously, he hadn’t expected Imani to be putty in his hands, but he’d hoped she would be more malleable and receptive to his wiles.
She cleared her throat and changed the topic. “I take it your avoidance of the guests is because of your familiar?”
Aodhán nodded. “It’s all everyone wants to talk about, and although I understand their curiosity, it can get really exhausting to repeat the same thing every time.”
Imani shook her head in amazement. “I knew your familiar was a big deal, but I didn’t quite realize just how big of a deal it was until I came home and saw the news of your interview plastered everywhere.”
Aodhán grimaced. Daruk had been right after all. Things would change when he returned to the academy, and perhaps it would be even worse than it had been in the first week. Aodhán felt like he was better prepared to handle it, though. He would simply ignore them.
Before he could respond, though, a man, one of Imani’s brothers or uncles, politely but hurriedly pulled Imani away, stating that there was an urgent family matter they needed to attend to.
Left to his own devices, Aodhán sipped his drink, ignoring the glare of disapproval Daruk sent him from across the hall. Perhaps drinking on the night of a mission such as this wasn’t the best idea, but a few sips wouldn’t kill him. Besides, despite his outward calm, Aodhán was nervous as hell. He glanced across the ballroom filled with dancing couples as they moved merrily to the tune of the fast-tempo music, and his gaze soon landed on Aldric, who was dancing with a woman he didn’t recognize.
Aldric caught his eye, almost as if he could feel Aodhán's gaze. After a few minutes, he excused himself from the lady he was with, passing her off to another gentleman, and made his way over. Leaning in close, he hissed, "You reek of anxiety, Aodhán. Calm the fuck down."
“I am calm.” Aodhán hissed back and glanced at Makeba. “When are you going to do it?”
Aldric sighed and patted Aodhán's shoulders in a frustrated manner. “When the time is right, For now, pick one of these beautiful, lonely ladies who have been ogling you all night, and get on the dance floor. Staring daggers at me is not going to get me to move faster.”
Aodhán grimaced, and after Aldric left, he stepped onto the dance floor. Almost immediately, he was swarmed by a bevy of noble ladies who batted their eyelashes at him in a bid to appear more appealing. One of them stood out, though. She was dressed in a full-length black gown that complimented her hair and ink-black eyes. Aodhán was a sucker for black, and without hesitation, he extended a hand to her and asked. “May I have this dance?”
She blushed and gave a small bow. “I would be honored.”
He took her hand in his just as the first song ended and another began. Aodhán wasn’t the best dancer, and he barely knew the steps to this particular song, but he somehow managed not to thoroughly embarrass himself, and when the next song came up, he had found a rhythm that worked for him. The minutes passed in a blur, and Aodhán soon began enjoying himself, laughing, dancing, and having polite discussions with several noble ladies and lords as he passed, and was passed around the dance floor. The music soon changed to one with a much faster tempo, and laughter echoed through the hall as more people joined the dance floor, trying and failing to move along to the erratic beat.
Many stumbled, including Aodhán, who barged into an uncountable number of people within the span of minutes. Each stumbling person sparked a roar of laughter as the dancers wondered which lord or lady would stumble next. Aodhán was soon lost in a sea of bodies, moving and dancing as if they were in a crowded club.
Despite how much fun he was having, Aodhán kept Aldric and Imani in his line of sight, waiting for when the first would act and when the second would extricate herself from her family so he could join her once more. For some reason, though, none of them moved as he intended, and it was only an hour later that Imani left her family.
Before she could be swept away by a drunk lord or another curious noble lady, Aodhán made his way towards her and pulled her onto the dance floor. She gasped, and a smile blossomed on her face when she noticed him.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been standing around waiting for me this entire time.” She asked as he wrapped an arm around her waist.
Aodhán grinned and twirled her around. “I’d wait forever just to dance with you.”
Okay, perhaps he was laying it on too thick, but he desperately needed this to work. He would definitely regret this plan later, but for now, the mission was all that mattered.
Imani blushed deeply and turned to hide her face. “I didn’t realize you were that into me.” She murmured, but rather than respond, Aodhán drew her closer and whispered. “You should note that I am a terrible dancer and may inadvertently step on your shoes once, twice, or a million times before this song ends.”
Imani laughed, her voice carrying over the loud music and drawing the attention of several people as they began to dance. Thankfully, Imani was a far better dancer than he was, so she didn't stumble much. Aodhán, on the other hand, moved awkwardly, his body jerking in a rushed attempt to keep up with the music and the dancers around him.
It was horrible, but at the very least, it made Imani laugh. In fact, she laughed so hard that any lingering suspicion concerning his motives towards her evaporated like smoke. Aodhán didn’t let the pang of guilt that lanced through him regularly affect his actions and simply continued dancing, subtly keeping an eye on Aldric and Makeba at the same time.
An hour before midnight, a trumpet blast echoed through the hall, and the grand doors swung open, revealing a striking man with ink-black hair and eyes ringed in two different shades of blue. The man was clad in a lavishly decorated robe adorned with jewels, and as one, the crowd cheered the celebrant and patriarch of the Blackwell family, Alyn Corelis Blackwell.
Grinning broadly, Alyn made his way to the center of the hall, basking in the attention like a sponge soaking up water. Once there, he turned and delivered an intentionally lighthearted and amusing speech, playfully noting that he was now a year older yet none the wiser.
The crowd erupted in laughter, and with the speech concluded, the party kicked into high gear. Laughter rang out from every corner of the hall, crystal clear despite the loud music and the erratic tapping of shoes on the glass dance floor. Wine flowed freely, and soon the sweet, mouthwatering aroma of roasted meat filled the air.
It was hard not to get lost in the excitement, and there were times when Aodhán’s gaze strayed from Aldric or Makeba for more than fifteen minutes. Fortunately, though, his attention returned to Aldric just as he began moving.
Aodhán tensed, but quickly relaxed his muscles. It had been an hour since Alyn Blackwell made his appearance, and Aodhán had been thinking that perhaps Aldric was no longer up to the task. He was glad to have been proven wrong.
Aldric inched towards Makeba, who was drunk off her ass and high as a skunk on opiates. Due to her Advancement level, she required regular consumption of the opiates to maintain her euphoric state, and even as he subtly watched, she dipped a finger into her pouch and placed it on her tongue before grinning at the crowd like a fool.
Aldric inched closer, and when he was only a few meters away, Aodhán unconsciously tensed. He had been tracking Aldric’s movement so intensely that he’d unconsciously stopped dancing, and it wasn’t until Imani nudged him in concern that he snapped out of it.
“I’m sorry, I just thought of something.” He lied, and Imani frowned in worry. “Did something bad happen?”
“No, no, it’s nothing. You don’t have to worry about it.”
He grinned and twirled her around once more, throwing off the rhythm of the nearby dancers. This sparked another roar of laughter as the disrupted dancers stumbled, colliding with others and causing a chain reaction of missteps and laughter across the dance floor.
They soon regained their rhythm, but as much as he tried not to stare, Aodhán couldn’t help stealing glances at Aldric just to see how he would steal the pouch. However, despite his constant glances, Aodhán was unable to understand what happened. One moment, Aldric was politely conversing with Makeba, and the next, both he and the opiate pouch had vanished.
Aodhán narrowed his gaze, and although he turned to respond to something Imani asked, his heart thudded loudly in his chest. Phase one was complete. Now, they just needed Makeba to ask Imani to retrieve another pouch from her room instead of going herself.
Aodhán grinned, unable to contain both his fear and excitement. Things were finally going to plan, and with an uncontrollable grin, Aodhán twirled Imani around once again, causing another cascade of stumbling nobles.
His attention to Imani was obvious, and they’d even begun drawing the attention of several elders who whistled in encouragement. Imani blushed, and Aodhán suppressed another pang of guilt as he pulled them closer towards Makeba. If Makeba was to send Imani for her opiates, then they would need to be in her line of sight.
For the next few minutes, Aodhán waited rather impatiently for Makeba to notice her missing pouch, all the while praying to all the gods that existed to grant him this one wish. Time crawled, but just as they’d estimated, Makeba’s finger moved to her waist five minutes later.
Aodhán tensed once again, and his grip subconsciously tightened around Imani’s wrist.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Imani asked with a look of concern, and he immediately forced a smile. “I'm just a little drunk.”
Imani chuckled in relief and leaned closer. “You know, after the past few weeks, I must say I never saw this coming. I didn’t even realize you had any feelings for me.”
“Uhm, me too.” Aodhán responded distractedly. He stared at Makeba from the corner of his eyes, mentally urging her to call Imani for help. They were so close to her now that they were practically the definition of ‘line of sight’. If she would just call Imani—
“Meredith, dear, I think I need your help,” Makeba called out, and Aodhán nearly stumbled as their carefully laid plans shattered like fragile glass. The rest of Makeba’s words were drowned out by a sudden burst of laughter from a corner of the hall, but Aodhán didn’t need to hear them. He already knew what she was asking for.
His eyes flicked over to Aldric, now at the far end of the hall, and he ignored Imani’s whispered questions of concern. His gaze quickly snapped back to Makeba just as she handed a set of keys to Meredith. A headache began to throb in his temples, and he cursed under his breath, “Fuck my life.”