The Royal Assassin

Prologue

She stared mesmerizingly at the sharp icy blade she held in her hands. Having already met with this particular knife, she felt the same as she did when she first held it, the overwhelmed feeling of holding such a glorious object. Not deja vu, but a replaying of feelings. She found satisfaction and a deep relationship with this object since it has gone through so much with her. She loved her job though it was hard to tell. Assassinating high paid, infamous, or respected people seemed to be sentimental.

The incognito dame slid the knife into its cover and placed it in the least conspicuous location of her bodice.

Stepping swiftly to the side, she admired herself in the large round mirror that sat in the corner of the room she slept. She checked for any small thing that was out of place but found none. What she saw was a young, respectful, and graceful lady with sharp eyes so green it was like looking into a deep forest. Her hair was a perfect brunette, her small hands seeming so delicate, a body so slim yet so plump in all the right places, and her soft nose that was always high up in the air. Her favorite part of herself was her extremely sculptured face.

She let out a long breath and took one more glance at her pale figure before turning her back towards the reflective object and whisked away, making no sound.

(Little did she know--far out of her sight; deep into the darkroom; a hidden place, were two beady eyes watching her every move.)

 As she strode down the road in the direction of her carriage, she went through the list of her strategic plan for the malicious act she was about to perform.