Karma had not expected to find her younger brothers skulking within the shadows in the west wing of the manor. In her wing of the manor. She knows that her scary kid brother of only nineteen winters hides in the shadows near the corner. She felt him stalk up a few moments after she had sat at the window.

She had no problem with him seeing her face, or with him overhearing her conversation with the guard. He is weak. A coward. He would never do anything with the information. But Finious was another matter. She had not felt him approach. “How could father love a creature that looks as you do?” Her eyes roll. Of course this is about their father. When is any conversation within the walls of this castle not about the very king that rules it?

“Father loves nothing outside of power. And that is something I have in excess. But you understand that, don’t you Fin.” He had finished his teachings before her, only because he had less power to master. Her eyes flicker to his hands, which have balled themselves into fists. She smiles. “My my. Maybe you shouldn’t have been released from training so early. It seems you haven’t retained the basics.“

They are taught early on that emotions were the downfall of the humans. Their emotions are why their countries were destroyed in wars that could have been avoided centuries ago. Their emotions were why they were so easily enslaved. That is why Zagra will not win the current war it fights in. Before Finious can say another word, Karma’s arm swipes out, her fingers arched and her nails sharp. At the last moment, she folds all but her index finger down. Her nail pierces the skin of his cheek, a thin line of red blood forming seconds after.

Finious stumbles back, his hand going to hold his face. “Y-”

His words evaporate as soon as he sees Karma raise her finger to her lips. “If I were you, little brother, I would leave my wing and never return. Your big sister only has so much patience to spare.” Knowing the basics of how her abilities work, Finious steps down. Though he’s shaking with anger, Finious knows when he is outmatched. “And take Baron with you. Before either of you think of trespassing during my absence, just remember that I still have your blood. And I have something of yours as well, baby Baron.”

She watches as her youngest brother stumbles out of the shadows, his arms quivering. She’ll be sure to send instructions to his tutors. His fear is far too palpable and far too easy to invoke. When her siblings have finally left her, she does not go straight to her rooms.

Instead she sits back on the daybed. Karma watches the shadow of a bird flying near. She touches where its shadow rests on the window and doesn’t blink as it’s body comes spiraling down down down as a result. She can hear the sound of its dead weight hitting the ground, and it does well to calm her thrashing soul.

Karma got very little sleep that night. In fact, she spent the majority of her remaining time continuing her planning. Karma crafted a proposal for her father, which was essentially just a list of things she would need him to do for her. After she finished the first draft, she did the second and third. The third draft was the bare bones of what she needed while the second went into further detail should the king agree to help her.

Then she had to draft instructions for the guard, Trilana and Baron’s tutors, and the mage that was to seal her rooms in her absence. Of course she could merely spell the door with a strong seal herself, but Karma focused mostly on catastrophic magics, and she had a feeling that her lock would do more damage than she wanted.

The young woman merely needed people to stay out of her rooms. She didn’t wish to kill any of them. At least not yet. And so after she finished her plans and rushed them to the message transporter, she returned to her rooms. The bone-tired woman dimmed her lights just the tiniest bit and laid her head to rest.

What seemed like seconds later, there was a persistent knock at her doors. Her eyes cracked open, and she found that she was nearly blinded by the light that flowed through her uncovered windows. She knew it was time to get dressed. She had bathed before she sat at her desk for the night, thankfully. She had also chosen four pairs of clothes to pack, with about ten sets of underthings, a single short cloak, and a spare pair of shoes.

Karma enters her chambers from her connected study, dropping her current clothing to the floor as she does. She slides on the rider’s trousers and her long-sleeved black tunic with a high collar. She then slips on her fingerless leather gloves before she pulls her long hair over her right shoulder. She braids the mass into a single form before clipping her veil into place.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

While she will dispose of it once she enters the playing field, she must keep it donned while in the castle, should any eyes decide to trail her. To finish it off, she secures a small sheath to her thigh and slides a throwing knife into it. Once she’s looked herself over a few times, she picks her single bag off of her bed and slides it onto her back.

Then she exits her room, her finger carving out an intricate pattern on the doorknob. It’s only a small cast meant to stun the heart of anyone stupid enough to try to enter. She sent for a defensive mage, but it was so late in the night that she has yet to hear back. She’ll just have to hope that her brothers heed her warnings, or she’ll return to find out she’s missed two royal funerals.

Karma is glad to see that no one waits outside for her. The less people that know about her departure, the better. The walk to the central part of the sprawling manor felt shorter than usual. Through the towering columns that separate the different sections of the open halls, she stares at the gardens. A fountain with a statue of a dancing woman stands in the middle, the ivy growing on it unkempt and the algae bruising the once vibrant blue stone a nasty brown color.

From the woman’s hands shoot streams of water that birds occasionally like to splash around in. She looks away as she steps towards the doors that encloses her father’s main rooms within the manor. She knocks. “Enter.” She does. And she finds that her father is not the only person within the large lounge.

Trilana is there, her long hair still wrapped around curlers and her night clothes still hanging off her body. Karma wonders what possessed her to get up so early in the morn. “Good morning, sire?” Karmic stands before his bar cart, a teacup in one hand and a spoon in another.

Karmic is a large man, like most of the Rinafi men. Karma would say he stands around six feet and nine inches, with shoulders as wide as a door. His rosy hair is always pulled back in a severely stiff style, leaving his brooding brows and his dark red eyes on full display. There isn’t a day that he isn’t wearing a velvet vest. And the sleeves of his undershirt are always rolled up to reveal bold white runes carved into his tan skin. Most say that her father is a handsome man, and with his traditionally hard features and small set of dimples, Karma would find it hard to disagree. “Yes, I suppose it is. I got your proposals.”

He takes a sip from his cup, his brows furrowed as he decides whether it’s sweet enough. He picks up another sugar cube. “I won’t say I like it, but I can understand it. I’ll begin carrying it out tomorrow morning.” A smile lights up her face. She knew he would agree to it. Karmic can’t resist putting on a show. As Karma bows, Karmic finishes twirling his spoon around in his cup of tea. “Eat, and then be off. The Traveler is waiting for you in the sand room.” She nods.

“Yes, sire.” There was nothing complex about the scene, but Karma couldn’t help but feel as if a thousand words had just passed between the two. That’s how she usually felt with the man. It always seemed as if he’d said more than he really had. As if there was some secret meaning to the small twitch of his brows or the flexing of his fingers as he brought his teacup up to his face. This time, she almost felt as if he was telling her to be safe.

But she knew that wasn’t the case. The king only cares about the results of her work. She leaves the study, her sister following behind her. “Wait! Wait for me!” The girl is sixteen winters old, and she still hasn’t learned how to walk in long gowns without tripping. How could someone be so… her? “Amy!” Karma stops, her back stiffening.

Trilana hasn’t called her that since she eight winters old. The woman takes in a deep breath as she folds her hands against her pelvis. “I just wanted to say goodbye,” Trilana breathes behind her. Karma shakes her head, waiting for the morning staff the finish shuffling by. Light hasn’t bled fully into the sky on this side of the towering manor, so no one can truly make out their forms.

“Launny…” Karma licks her lips, wondering if she should just leave without another word. “Just remember that this is for your own good.” She then leaves the girl, her heart thumping within her chest. Everything she’s doing is for Trilana’s own good. It is. It doesn’t matter if she understands that or not, because Karma will always know the truth.

She stops by the kitchens, which are slowly being populated with the people responsible for making the current session of courters breakfast. She slips by them all, her shoes silent on the unpolished kitchen floors. Karma fills the rest of her bag with preserved foods like phantom rabbit jerky, cheese made from goat’s milk, and brittle bread.

Her water skins were already filled, and she had packed all of her hygiene and feminine essentials. Now all she had to do was go. She would leave half of her plans to her father, and she would have to hope he was as good an actor as herself. Karma takes a tangerine out of the cupboards to eat on the trip. Her stomach is feeling too ticklish for anything heavy or high in protein. She takes in a deep breath as she steps out of the kitchens.

Six weeks.

She looks up and around at the towering columns that she passes between. In six weeks, it will be done. The spirit of the Zagran people will be crushed when their beloved prince is killed, and the morale of the Hillantans will once again soar high.

She enters the sand room, her hand immediately reaching out for the Traveler that waits for her. Her eyes close as his warm magic travels over her “I will drop you at the edge of Bukungia,” He whispers. Then his warmth covers her entirely, and when she opens her eyes, she’s standing alone, her feet sinking into the wet mulch beneath her, soaring trees surrounding her, and the sound of insects buzzing in and out of her ears.