My war with Zarinia was a farce—a ploy to unite a divided people and to gain control of the Lucent. I lured them into a conflict they could not win. With the fires of war and rivers of blood, I forged the Dutchies into a united realm. - Private Diary of Gideon Vandrel, King of Lucendia

The warm smell of dinner had faded as Talia's food cooled. It was some kind of stew. Beef, if she had to guess. After changing into a comfortable nightgown and out of the torture devices called heels and the coffin of a dress, she had thrown herself into checking and double-checking that all of her belongings were there.

It was clear from the haphazard way her belongings sat in her trunks that they had been packed in haste with little regard for order. Thankfully, all the important things were there: her favorite riding dress, other than the silver chain around her neck, the few other pieces of jewelry that she liked, and above all, her journal.

She'd started writing in a journal when she was young after discovering her father's. She'd sought to emulate him, whether out of a hope that it would garner his attention and approval or because it helped her think; she didn't know anymore. The only thing missing was her favorite pillow.

She'd rearranged her belongings multiple times now. She needed a distraction, or else her mind would never stop running. I'm in danger. The complete silence her room enjoyed didn't help her mental state. It was eerie how every sound echoed in the small cabin, resonating harshly off the walls and floor.

Ven must have increased the power of the sound isolation enchantments. She wasn't surprised; ships could be noisy places. With so many people in proximity and the natural sounds of a ship at labor combined, the resulting cacophony could be disruptive.

Talia's stomach rumbled, and she found her eyes wandering to the cold soup and a copper water pitcher. Condensation clung to the side of the copper pitcher.

She moved to the small table set into the ship's wall and picked up the bowl of stew. It had congealed. Thin disks of cold fats had clumped together on the surface, coating carrots, peas, and potatoes in a slimy paste.

She put the bowl down in disgust. I should have eaten it before it got cold. She mentally scolded herself. She reached for the pitcher of water. The copper was cool under her skin, and the condensation made her hand wet.

Talia felt a low, insistent buzzing around her neck. She looked down at the silver chain she wore. An emerald green light emanated from the vibrating chains. Her brows furrowed. Finally, it clicked.

It's poisoned. Talia felt detached from her body as she slowly placed the pitcher back on the small table with a shaking hand. It detects poison. Why is my water poisoned? The silence had become deafening.

"I don't suppose I could convince you to drink that, princess?" A figure faded into view, shadows unraveling to reveal a man as thin as a stick with dark brown skin. He was completely hairless, and in the light of her cabin's mage lamp, she could see even his eyelashes were gone. He wore an exaggerated, simpering expression. His lips almost pouting. "I am obligated to conduct myself in a highly specific manner tonight."

"Who are you," demanded Talia, "What are you doing in my cabin?"

The man bowed flamboyantly, the false pout in his voice replaced with an equally false guaranty tune. "I am Arak, but you need not trouble yourself to remember it, your grace. I am but a humble tradesman making a living. As for my purpose," his face turned pouting again," I'm afraid I have been hired to kill you. I do apologize for any inconvenience."

Talia felt her heart increase its rapid tempo. This man was insane. It's like he can't express emotions. Or he was toying with her. She deemed the latter more likely.

"It's unfortunate really. I don't normally take contracts on children. Leaves a bad taste in my mouth." He puckered his lips like he'd tasted a lemon. "However, there are some clients you do not decline, regardless of their… requirements." He flashed a small glass vial with an orange liquid in it. "So, will you drink? It won't taste bad; it's sweet, like honey."

"What is it," asked Talia.

"The water is spiked with a minor paralytic and sensory enhancement. My client insisted that you stay awake during the… process," Arak said. His smile was too wide, sending shivers down Talia's spine.

Talia's exhausted mind was a whirl as she tried to conceive of a way to escape. She couldn't stop her eyes from flicking to the door to the cabin. Time. I need more time. Thankfully, Arak was talkative. "Process," she asked.

Arak's smile turned awkward. "It won't be pretty, I'm afraid. My client's imagination was colorful."

Keep him talking. She edged away from him, slowly making her way to the door. Arak didn't move, just rotated, keeping unblinking eyes on her. "How did you get in my cabin? There are wards."

A glour painted Arak's face, "There were, and they were good. I had to use tools that will be impossible to replace. Impossible!" He leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "I killed the man who made them. Couldn't have him supplying anyone else."

He's insane. After an eternity, Talia felt the door latch slide into her hand. She pulled on it, trying to open the door as fast as possible, but it stayed sealed, refusing to budge.

Arak just laughed. It was a wheezing thing, his breath whistling in his chest. "You thought that would work?"

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Talia swallowed. Her mouth had gone completely dry. "Guards," her voice escaped her in a croak, "Ven. Please, anyone."

"Tut, tut, princess. The sound barrier on this room is as good as it gets. No one is coming." Arak straightened and gestured towards the water, his sadistic smile nearly splitting his face. "Drink. Who knows, you might even enjoy the first part." His eyes roamed over her body before his face twisted, "If you weren't so young, I know I would. But gold is gold."

Arak moved to the table and picked up the pitcher before turning back to Talia. He advanced on her. His slow steps resonated through the room. Thump. Thump. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she retreated from him until her back hit the wall of her cabin; shaking legs failed her, and she collapsed to the floor. Please. Daughter, save me. Her silent prayer to the divine went unanswered. No one was listening.

Arak proffered the pitcher of laced water, "Drink. Please."

Again, Talia felt her necklace vibrate. Arak's eyes shifted down to the glowing chains, and he looked at them with greed. Talia swung at the pitcher, hoping to use his distraction to knock the pitcher from his hand.

The assassin moved it out of her reach with the ease of dodging a child. All his false kindness and pouting had disappeared, the facade crumbling away to reveal a savage smile twisted in pleasure. An arcane chant spilled from Arak's lips, and even here, with her life at risk and face with an assassin, Talia found an odd beauty in the strange notes.

Pressure engulfed Talia's entire body, completely restraining her movements. Thankfully, that was all it did. Still, she struggled, straining her body to move, desperately fighting the spell.

Arak leaned in, and his hot, humid breath on her ear made her blood freeze. "The hard way then," he whispered in her ear. He raised the pitcher to her lips, and she felt the cool water touch and enter her mouth. Arak hadn't lied; the water was sweet. She would have vomited, but her body refused to move. A clammy hand gently grasped her neck, "The fun begins no—"

There was a blinding flash of light and the sound of splintering wood as the door to Talia's cabin was blasted off its hinges. Talia tried to cover her ears, but she still could not move. Steel flashed past her face, deflecting off a chromatic barrier just before catching her throat. The dagger sang as it ground across the shield that now enveloped her.

Where did his blade come from? It had happened so fast that she hadn't seen where Arak drew the dagger from. Arak was still moving. He carried his slash into a spin. Steel flashed as knives flew toward the tall figure of Ven Lovell. Ven's war staff was lit an angry red and a ring on his right hand glowed emerald green.

Rage burned in his eyes. His face was twisted into a snarl, unlike anything Talia had ever seen. Another barrier flashed, intercepting the knives before they could strike him. Unlike the one protecting Talia, it was smaller and dissipated.

At the same time, a pulse emanated from Ven, sending every loose object in the room flying, including Arak. Talia's belongings were thrown throughout the room. The bed was shredded, scattering feathers everywhere. Arak slammed into the wall.

Talia felt the bonds holding her in place vanish; instinctively, she spat out the sweet water that had coated her mouth. Its taste was pervasive, sticking to her tongue, refusing to go. She emptied her stomach. Talia welcomed the putrid taste of her vomit. Anything was better than the water.

Her eyes snapped back to Arak as he sprung up from where he had been thrown and lunged for Ven. Like any trained mage, he moved fast, closing the distance between himself and Ven in a blur. She watched in horror as the fight turned in Arak's favor. The man was a moving shadow of flashing steel, and Ven's staff was limiting him in the close confines.

Barrier after barrier flashed, barely intercepting daggers before they pierced Ven's night robe and the vulnerable flesh beneath. The two struggled, with Ven trying to bring Arak into the confined hall and Arak threatening to make for Talia every time Ven made to retreat.

Talia could hear shouts. At some point, the sound barrier placed on the room had fallen. The pounding of boots echoed throughout the ship. Arack began to laugh. "You are interrupting my work, Baron. The princess and I are about to have a grand time together."

Ven responded by bringing the head of his staff up between them and barked a mnemonic. Silver hair-thin threads burst from the crystalline head of his staff. Arak tried to jump back, but the threads grasped hold of his wrist. Talia watched in horror as the threads wove into Arak's skin. The man's eye widened as he let loose a scream of agony.

Ven yanked him off balance and swept his legs out from under him, sending Arak clattering to the ground. Even as he fell, Arak chopped at the threads, trying to free himself. As he struck the deck, bands of power arced up and clammed down on his limbs, holding them fast to the floor.

Arak's face openly displayed panic as he struggled against the bonds. He opened his mouth, beginning another incantation. He was interrupted by Ven's barefoot stomping down on his stomach. Talia heard the sickening sound of ribs cracking.

Lovell houseguards flooded into the cabin, filling the small space.

Arak opened his mouth as if to take a great bite, and to Talia's amazement, Ven shoved his fist into the man's mouth. Ven growled as Arak bit down on his hand. Blood filled the assassin's mouth.

Ven leaned down. "You targeted one of my children," his growl filled the cabin, his voice radiating power and fury. "You will die only when I allow it." He looked up at Talia. The fury in his eyes looked straight from the hells. They softened when they saw her. Their fury faded, replaced by worry. "Please take Talia to my cabin," he said to a guard. "I'll be along shortly."

Gentle hands pulled Talia to her feet. A wave of exhaustion came crashing over her, and the guard had to pick her up to get her moving. As she was carried out, she could hear voices but struggled to understand them. The guard eventually deposited her in Ven's cabin on a cushioned couch. With space for a writing desk and room to entertain guests, Ven's cabin was easily three times larger than her own.

She waited there; sleep tempted her, but every time she felt her eyelids shutting, she would jolt back to wakefulness. Despite the well-lit space, she jumped at every shadow, expecting to see Arak's twisted expression emerge from them. A soft knock at the door startled her, and Ven entered. He had a bandage wrapped around the hand he had stuffed into the assassin's mouth.

"Why not heal it like Valdric does," the question had left her lips before she could think.

Ven blinked in surprise as he followed her gaze to his hand, "I'm not insane enough to use healing like that unless I absolutely have to." He walked over to the couch, kneeling in front of her. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Talia told him, not leaving anything out. It didn't take long; everything had happened so fast, yet the ordeal had felt like an eternity in her mind. "—then you came in." Talia broke the silence that followed, "You knew, that's why you came to get me early."

Ven let out a deep sigh, taking a seat next to her. "I knew enough to suspect. That made me afraid enough to act."

"I knew something was wrong," her voice was flat; she felt so drained.

"I'm sorry, Talia. I should have told you that I thought you were in danger, but not even I could have guessed that one of the Devoted would come for you."

Talia felt too numb, too burned out, to experience the chill that should have crept up her spine. The ancient order of assassins was long dead, or so she had believed. They were subjects of myth and legend, like so many mage orders before them.

"Did the king know," Talia asked.

Ven sighed again, "The king's information network is vast, and it is easy for small things to slip through his nets. My network is considerably smaller but far more targeted. I look out for threats to my family and actively remove them."

His family. She looked up at Ven, "You said he'd targeted one of your children." She couldn't keep her brow from furrowing.

"Talia," he clasped her shoulders, "You've been one of mine since the day I met a scared little girl who had just lost her mother." He embraced her. His hug was warm and comforting. Tears stung her eyes, and she began to sob in his embrace. As she cried, exhaustion slowly overcame her, and she slowly drifted off into the comforting embrace of the only father she would ever need.