For the first time in my life, I'm not disappointed to lose myself in a crowd. I sink right into the group of visitors coming to celebrate the birthday of a Lord's wife. But that is hardly my focus, rather it's to the towering ceilings in the ballroom, the exotic music, the velvet-lined table full of desserts, and the stunning mixture of the crowd.

Dancers raise and lower themselves on delicate ribbons hanging from the ceiling that towers higher than I'll ever reach, domed and covered in artwork too faint for my eyes to make out. Candle chandeliers hang at varying lengths, some are higher while others seem low enough for me to graze my fingers across.

The mezzanine circling the entire room twists higher and higher with each floor and some of the guests have traveled up there already to get a better view on the mingling crowd below. Kitchen staff twists easily through the crowd, carrying trays high above their heads—full of chalices. One is handed to me and I sniff the liquid on the inside. Wine. I don't care for wine but I take a sip anyway and stand towards the back of the room, near the windows.

No one will notice me back here; their focus is mainly on the desserts or finding the right attention with different aspects of the company. These people aren't here to celebrate a birthday, they're here for their own reasons.

Everyone is dressed fancier than me, in gowns that shimmer and suits smoother than velvet. Their hair is polished, their jewelry shines, and their laughter booms with every terrible joke shared by someone already drunk.

Renit would frown upon a celebration like this. I can smell their selfishness coming off of the many moving bodies and I have no doubt the prince would be able to spot the fakes quicker than the exit points to get out of here.

But just as that thought runs through my mind, a familiar face shifts into view, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. I frown at Echo standing across the ballroom, smirking at me standing with a chalice of wine in my hand, leaning against one of the towering stone pillars holding this entire ballroom together.

He doesn't hesitate to make his way over to me in such an obvious strut that I wonder if he's trying to draw attention to himself. Stopping at the dessert table, he pops a truffle into his mouth and continues in my direction, shoving that free hand in the pocket of his charcoal-colored doublet that somehow shimmers against the candlelight.

"Look who showed up," he muses as he approaches. He doesn't stand in front of me, instead opts for resting his back against the wall and angling himself to get a view of the window. Echo is even lankier out here, not standing behind a counter.

Taking a sip from my chalice, I say, "You already knew I was coming. Don't act surprised."

Echo gulps down his own wine and smacks his lips before stealing another chalice off of a tray sitting on the dessert table. My mouth waters at the sight of those chocolate truffles—something that Echo figures out through looking at me or through his power—and one of those delicious desserts is dropped into my palm seconds later.

"How is the big plan turning out? I don't spot the prince anywhere." His dull eyes sparkle with amusement before that feeling is gone again. I can't tell whether or not he hates me, his eyes don't tell any stories and neither does the rest of him.

"That's the foundation of the plan. I'm going to sneak the prince in somewhere else. Not where he can be seen by everyone else in this ballroom." I keep the chalice hovered over my mouth so no one across the room can read my lips. They aren't paying any attention to me, anyway.

Echo rocks back and forth on his heels. "You aren't doing yourself any favors. No one comes here, stands in a corner, and then disappears to find a hidden entrance. Be smarter about your approach," he offers.

"Fine," I sigh out of boredom. "What would you suggest?"

His lips pucker as he rolls his neck back and forth. I'm not surprised I don't receive an answer right away, instead he looks out to the lit gardens beyond the ballroom and seems to examine each hedge before focusing on the conversation. Not standing behind the counter in a tavern makes him appear less sickly. There's not much to comb out in terms of his hair but at least he looks more presentable. Fit for a celebration.

I'm surprised he was invited in the first place.

"I would suggest dancing, mingling. Introduce yourself to the Lord and his wife. Make yourself noticeable so you aren't noticed later—hours later—when no one has heard a peep from you. Besides—" His eyes drift to my gown "—that dress deserves a little more recognition than what you're allowing. The shadows of the ballroom don't warrant the sight."

Echo takes a sip from his second chalice.

"And those hidden entrances? Have any idea where those might be?" I dare to ask.

"My husband is a servant to the Lord. The prince hasn't done me any favors in the past hundred years but I've decided to do him one. Leave the ballroom, head down the servants' passageways. They'll be a few doors leading out, all you have to do is find one. If you're lucky, your prince will already be there." From the rim of his chalice, Echo smirks at me. He knows my feelings for the prince, is aware of the small touches and the confession I so daringly made. And now he's silently mocking me for feeling those things in the first place.

I look back to the ballroom as the music changes tune. Perfect dancing music. If I don't head out to the dance floor now, I will miss my chance. "Why do you and Renit hate each other so much?" I ask instead of leaving him there.

The wine in his chalice swirls at the rim as he wills it, a mild bit of entertainment in a place that holds much more than expected. "We don't hate each other. He never apologized for the bloodshed over one hundred years ago. I don't forget a grudge until I receive an apology."

I smile to myself. Even I've never received an apology from Renit after all the blows dealt in training, not by Renit himself but his power. I don't blame him for that, he didn't have any control but I still didn't hear those two words. I'm sorry. After the killing of my parents or the destruction of Arego, he never said it then, either. Hated me too much to do so. If I never hear it in my life...I shouldn't be surprised.

If he can't apologize to Echo for completely covering his tavern in bodies and blood then he won't apologize to me for something as minor as a harsh attitude. It's not worth his time, there are better things to worry about. I can hear him saying exactly that.

Before I can say anything, Echo speaks first. "I suggest you be careful of your company. The most notorious assassin in the kingdom is here tonight, a special guest to the Lord. He'll be the one to notice you're out of place here if he doesn't notice no one here has ever seen you before. He might kill you just for being suspicious."

The music quickly chances again, to another dance song. A woman at the dessert table tears her husband away, begging for a dance, and he groans but obeys.

"I can't spot an assassin if I don't know what he looks like," I say quietly. Not a question but something he clearly needs to answer.

"Tall, muscular, slicked back hair and striking green eyes. He's probably the most handsome man in this entire ballroom. Once you see him, you'll know. Looks like he can chop off someone's head with ease—you know, someone you know is a killer. He'll likely be surveying the crowd as vigilant as a guard." Echo clicks his tongue to conclude his statement.

He sets down the wine glass on the dessert table and when I think he's about to leave, he sticks out his hand towards me. "Before the music changes again?" I ask in a mocking tone.

"That's all you've been thinking about for the past few minutes. This is the only way I can shut you up," Echo grumbles.

As we head out to the dance floor, moving with the crowd, I link my arm with his. The thin arm underneath is nothing like what I'm used to with Renit or Silas—both of them have bulk.

"Is there anything else I should know about this assassin?" I ask quietly. Echo's hand rests flat on my waist while in the other, he holds my small palm. His skeleton-like fingers wrap around the back of my hand, like a ghost holding me dearly. I avoid bracing my hand on the back of his neck because even here, he still smells like the tavern and the possible mice-infested ales. Either he carried it with him or he's had enough to drink tonight that it's pouring out of his mouth like a faucet.

We begin to sway with the tune of the music, a slow and careful beat that warrants for this kind of movement. Renit would be driving himself mad with something like this, the dance for our engagement celebration was more upbeat than this. "His name is Rex Fletcher," Echo hushes. "And he's not a witch, but a human. That's what makes him so dangerous. He's not one of us—which means he hates us more. Be wary."

For effect, he spins me and the skirts of my gown billow around me. Someone in the ballroom claps for the dancing couples and when my hand is once again clasped in Echo's, more dancers join us on the marble floors. I want to break away, to find the servant passages where Renit will hopefully be waiting, but if I'm to go through with this the right way then I need to take Echo's advice.

"Good girl," he whispers. Also, I need to stop thinking around him. That sickly grin returns, stretching across his face, and I try to look anywhere other than his eyes. Echo's aware he's making me uncomfortable. "The Lord and his wife should be arriving soon. Use those boney elbows of yours to get through to the front of the crowd. You constructed a good plan, but keep to it."

"If you've been listening to my thoughts at all, you know all I've been reciting is the plan. Over and over again," I mutter under my breath.

My eyes dart to the many faces around the ballroom but I don't find the Lord or the assassin or Renit—by a stretch. He wouldn't be here, he's not allowed to be here, yet I find myself looking for him anyway.

The music changes to a sharper beat and Echo grips my hand tighter. "Good luck, princess," he whispers in my ear. He spins me and I trip over my own two feet, quickly falling to the reflecting marble floors until two strong hands brace my waist.

I laugh quietly, already muttering my thanks to whoever caught me. But all enjoyment is lost as I look into the face of a handsome man with green eyes and dark hair, fine lines to accent his jaw and a scar running through his brow. Rex Fletcher smirks down at me, his bright eyes already searching over what could be his next victim.

I force myself not to flinch out of Rex's touch. Instead, I clasp my hands tighter on his forearms and smile up at the handsome face. Even if it's not there, I can spot the blood splattered over his golden skin, the blood lust in his eyes, two daggers in his fists as he moves in for another slice. When I blink, all of that disappears and Rex is there, smiling at me.

"Be careful in that gown," he purrs. "It would be a shame if something so beautiful was torn."

He stands me up so I'm on my own two feet again. Resisting the urge to glare back at Echo, I shift into a different form of myself and forget the rest of the ballroom is there. Instead, I focus only on Rex—like he's my whole world and I'm just meeting the love of my life for the first time.

"Thank...thank you for catching me," I stutter. "Would you care for a dance?"

Rex's brow arches but that unsettling grin remains. He glances around the ballroom, at the people milling about, and nods. "That's bold for a woman like you." But his arm slips around my waist and I swallow my cringe. Those hands have done terrible things and as his calluses scrape against the smooth surface of my palm, I stop breathing for a second. I'm in the arms of an assassin.

He smells of mint and pine. Rex is wearing a forest green frock coat and dark pants that billow from black leather boots. In my quick glance to the floor, I spot the handle of a knife sticking out of the side. My stomach churns. He's young, probably a few years older than me; in his prime and ready to kill if need be.

My next movements need to be perfect or I'll find myself in more of a mess than I had planned. Rex was supposed to be here, yes, but I didn't think I would find myself this close to someone who knows more than one way to get his hand around my neck in a matter of seconds. If he knew the truth to why I was here, he wouldn't hesitate to shove me to the center of the ballroom and reveal to everyone that the prince is not here on good standards. If the Lord doesn't agree with the king's policies, it's likely that Rex doesn't either. I'm a threat, same as the king himself.

"Sometimes, it pays to be bold," I finally say one the tension has lifted. My heart beats rapidly and I try very hard to stare lovingly into his eyes, like a star-struck girl.

Rex smirks out of the corner of his mouth. His eyes dart around the ballroom once more. He's already looking, always searching for a threat that won't come. Renit won't be seen, I'll make sure of that. "Where are you from?" He asks. "I've never seen you around here."

"Mailan," I say quickly. "I'm Lord Ivard's daughter. Since he's out of town, visiting the capital, he asked me to represent and give my best wishes to Lord Cavanaugh's wife." I blink three times, fluttering my eyelashes, and something like lust flashes in Rex's eyes. I hope the color doesn't blanch from my face as much as my blood chills.

Rex considers. "I've met all of Lord Ivard's daughters. You have never come up," he counters. But there's no rush or urgency in his tone, he's merely questioning me out of boredom.

"Yes," I reply reluctantly. "My father doesn't tend to...speak about me to others. I'm the result of an affair and only in recent weeks has he come to terms with accepting that I am his daughter. When he asked me to come to this celebration, I was overjoyed. Ecstatic." I let out a giggle through my throat, one that nearly makes me gag, and I smile up at him once more. Each move I'm making is not one of my own.

I've sunk so far into this fake version of Lord Ivard's daughter that I can barely think straight. By the time anyone here figures out the truth, Renit and I will be long gone and the box will be in our possession. If Lord Cavanaugh wants to fight the king to get the box back, that's what he will have to go through and no one, not even a Lord, wants to go up against someone that dangerous.

Rex's hand shifts lower on my back and I force myself to lean into his touch. It's killing me to do so. "You've been in hiding your whole life?" He asks.

"I've been a servant in Mailan for as long as I can remember. Only in the past year or so did I begin to write my father letters. He burned so many...others never reached him." Sorrow casts a shadow over my features. "But eventually, one slipped through. He had never heard of me before and I wanted nothing more to meet him. Things have been going well, wouldn't you think?"

I try to make it look like I genuinely care about his opinion. "I wish you nothing but luck with your father," Rex replies in a bored tone.

He doesn't care about my story, he believes I'm actually the daughter of a Lord. I had expected some to believe me, others to be curious, but I hadn't expected the most notorious assassin in all of Esaria to accept everything I had to say without a second thought. Either I'm that good or he doesn't care at all as Echo claimed. I still have to be cautious around him, same as everyone else.

By this point, Rex can barely focus on me and is instead looking for other women he finds more interesting. At the same moment he finds a spunky blonde laughing in the corner of the ballroom, horns blow from the staircase and two figures descend from the darkness. All dancing stops, even Rex's hand slides from my waist but he keeps a loose grip on my fingers.

The Lord and his wife are announced to the crowd, who cheers and bows to their arrival. I turn back to Rex and he bends low, kissing my knuckles. "I appreciate this dance," he purrs. His eyes rove over me like a wolf assessing prey. "Will I be seeing you again, later tonight?"

I lean forward, pressing my lips against his cheek in a featherlight touch. Rex doesn't pull away and when I do, he's completely lost in my eyes. Just what I was hoping for. Keep the enemy on my side. With his lips close to mine, I whisper, "I have a feeling we'll be seeing plenty of each other tonight."

His smile is nothing short of evil and as I tug my hand away from his and head towards the Lord and his wife, I feel his eyes on me the entire way.