The Royal Assassin (ONC2023)

Chapter 5

I sighed for probably the hundredth time this week. I really didn't know what my father was playing at but this was a difficult mission and he expected Bruce and I to do it. Dresses weren't my thing but I had to wear them if we were to pass this mission. From my knowledge on the Price of Frostbourne, I did come to a conclusion that he is a pompous asshole who thinks the entire world revolves around him. Honestly, I do not see what these women see in him. He basically walks right over them.

We were set to see this seamstress lady in roughly half an hour. Apparently, her and bossman are really good friends and have known each other since their primary school years. Alyona had started making her own clothes since she was fifteen according to my father. I honestly found that quite an amazing achievement.

Bruce honked the horn of his car outside so I bolted out the door. Bruce had honked a further fifty times between me rushing from my door to the car. My legs almost gave out by the time I reached there. I quickly opened the car door and got in to the passenger side.

"Good evening," Bruce greeted, his eyes glued on the road in front of him.

"Hello," I said while I reached for the seatbelt beside me and put it on. His car was a lot warmer than it had been outside. It was probably snowing somewhere. It was always snowing or cold in our neighbouring country, Frostbourne.

Frostbourne was a beautiful country, but the prince was the biggest problem with the royalty who ruled it. It was more the crowned prince. Most people were blinded by how handsome he was so very few saw how uptight he was. He really picked and chose who he treated well too. He had once kicked a homeless person in my hometown the last time he was here. It took everything in me not to slap the man. I really didn't know why people turned such a blind eye to his behaviour. Yes, he may be the next successor for Frostbourne but he needs his ego knocked down a peg or two.

We turned down a dark alley and eventually reached a large building. I had a bad feeling about this place but there was no turning back now. We had already commit to coming here and completing this mission. As much as I hated it, I had to make my father proud and continue on with our legacy.

Bruce had gotten out of the car first and I followed close behind. I felt like an ant in front of the shop.

"Ladies first," Bruce said as he held the black glass door open.

I forced a smile and stepped into the building. The inside was a far cry from the outside outside. It was marvellous. The space was well-lit with lamps hanging off a chandelier, lighting the dark, mahogany-coloured walls of the shop. Two three-seater blue sofas with silver framings aligned parallel to each other rested on the far right of the space. Mannequins lined up against the wall across from the entrance all in different poses, outfits, and dresses, all tailored to a specific size and culture. The place smelt like lavender with a mix of roses, the pinnacle of a seamstress' den.

"Hello, how can I help you?" asked a woman as she emerged, leaning over from the side of the room's entrance. She was adorned in a pair of black, loose-fitting trousers you swear could pass as a long skirt, draping itself just above her feet, which are tightly fitted with a pair of stiletto-heeled, black leather boots. Above her was a white, buttoned-up shirt that blended well with her loose-fitting black sleeves. In contrast, her long, brown hair draped just below her shoulders and neckline, pointing my attention toward her silver necklace with a rosary on it, accompanied by a similar set of silver earrings dangling freely on her earlobes.

"I assume you've made an appointment, Da?" she questioned as she took off her glasses and pointed the temple tips to both Bruce and I, her eyebrow crease narrowed down as she anticipated an answer. That accent as well, she's not a native for sure.

"Bullseye. Sapphire Bullseye," I introduce. "We, uh, called earlier ma'am." I was kind of scared of her but I tried not to show it.

"Oh yes. I remember. So lovely to meet you. Mr Snowhart has told me a lot about you both. Best in the business I hear," Alyona said, smiling at the both of us. Her face turned soft as soon as we told her who we were, guess she's like this to all of her favourite clients. "I was told all about your mission too." She walked over in my direction whilst grabbing a round measurement tape off her desk

"That's great. I'm not a dress type of girl, to be honest with you ma'am but I guess there is a first for everything." I laughed a little and ran my fingers through my hair.

"I've heard that a thousand times dear, and trust me, every girl has a dress that fits her" she said to me, if it had been Bruce or Father who had told me that, I would've laughed and told them to cut the shit, but this woman somehow makes it sound convincing. "Now, arms up," she commanded.

I nodded and raised both of my arms as she circled her measurement tape around my chest area. I really did not expect much from this visit except for the fact I hoped she would make me long dresses. I would hate to wear mini dresses.

"I'll be honest with you devushka. You will need to be on your A-game in this mission because that prince is very particular," she said. I wasn't surprised, judging by how flamboyant he is, his tastes in women must be even more peculiar. Pfft, like he'd actually catch a woman "Your target is an asshole who probably still sleeps with stuffed animals and a nightlight," Alyona said as she wrapped a tape measure around my waist. "The little runt is a debil."

I held in a laugh, but Bruce was rolling on the floor in a fit of laughter. Alyona didn't seem like the biggest fan of the prince, and she really made it known. Alyona kept taking measurements, then writing them down in her red little notebook.

"Most of the women drop down to his feet like he is the hottest thing since fire was invented. I don't know what they see in that rude little shit," Alyona said, finishing up with the measurements.

I was quite mesmerised by her accent. She really had a beautiful voice and she was stunning. It made me wonder how she got to work with the underworld and how she got a gig with my father.

"Thank you for keeping still darling. You've been very helpful." Alyona smiled and set the notebook down on the desk behind her. She then picked up a large folder and flipped it open. "These will be the dresses you must wear. I have taken the liberty of studying what the princess wears. You must dress exactly like her. She's a really nice girl too. It's just too bad she's going to be pushed to marry the Prince of Frostbourne."

I took the stack of papers she held out to me and flicked through them. Each one had a different dress, each a different colour and design. Some looked a lot more expensive then the others.

"Wow. These dresses are gorgeous. They'd look better on any other girl but me. It's a real shame that I have to wear this itch filled dresses for this damn mission," I said while flipping through the images.

"If it was up to me, I would rather make you one of these." She handed me another stack of paper that had dresses designed to be more form-fitting. "Unfortunately, you have to dress exactly like the Printsessa. So, you have to look at these." She sighed in disappointment as she pointed back to the previous stacks of paper I was inspecting.

I hate it already. Dresses that feel like a bunch of ropes constricting me to a specific stature, ugh it might as well be a walking tomb.

"I cannot make major adjustments to it, unless you would blow your cover to the prince. However, I can make minor changes to make your experience less of a living hell," she said. Honestly, what can you do to make these less of a pain to wear?

"How minute of a change can you make?" I asked. I have to know how far I can take it.

"Hmm small pockets, concealed straps, hidden boning, materials. Very limited choice, devushka."

"Do you happen to know of prismacloth, Gospozha?" I smiled whilst asking her. A fine seamstress like her must know of it.

True to the point, she turned to me and smirked. It was like her brown eyes had this spark in them that made them a very light hazel colour. Her client knew what she wanted, and how could she turn them down?

"You seem to know your craft."