HAWK & SABLE | EIGHTEEN

  DINNER WAS FAST, everyone anxious to finish so that they could return to their assigned mission. Asteria and Ciri lingered after the meal was over, as did most of the others, pouring over their list once more and going over their plans. Rhys and Dominic hadn't shown up, probably still outside the Palace. Io joined them, glancing down at the list, abandoning Myrina, who clearly wanted to be anywhere else but here.

"That's a lot of names," she pointed out, mouth widening. "Sure you could handle this?"

"We have our ways." Asteria grinned.

Ciri explained. "We're using some of the Kuroki girls, of course. No way the two of us could befriend everyone here without causing some suspicion."

Io's mouth turned into an 'o'. "That's very smart," she said admiringly. "They might as well make themselves useful. Natasha and Natalie sit in the palace all day reading about policies and law. They're driving me half mad."

"At least they have something to be passionate about," Ciri shrugged. "But yes. Their interest in law could provide a cover for them approaching a few of the officials. We'll ask them to do that tomorrow."

"Banquet's tomorrow," Io pointed out. "Good opportunity then."

Asteria nodded, then looked peeved. "Shouldn't you be helping Myrina?"

"Not until Rhys and Dominic come back. They're bringing some records back for us to check." Io shrugged. "And Myrina has some family stuff to deal with."

Ciri glanced at her. "Can't Irina help?"

"Myrina needs a permanent solution. A princess standing behind her is only going to cow her uncles for so long. They're not going to let her keep the title without a fight."

Ciri frowned. "But how? The title was hers, rightfully. Her father didn't name anyone else his heir. Just because Myrina was halfway through becoming a priestess when he died, or has a younger brother doesn't mean anything. She wouldn't be the first daughter to inherit a title."

Io leaned forward, as if imparting a grave secret. "The uncles claim the father wrote a letter naming one of them his heir instead of Myrina or her brother. Irina's trying to stop them from forging something."

Asteria scowled. "Bastards. Can't Ruge help?"

Irina stole a glance at the countess and the Crown Prince, standing in separate corners of the room, both alone. "I'll be honest. They're not very fond of each other."

Ciri nodded. "Ruge thinks her a coward and Myrina just... doesn't like him. The way she dislikes most people, or at least wouldn't let them get close. If Irina asks, he'll help, but Myrina has her pride."

"Imagine how easy life would be if no one had pride," Asteria mused, stacking the papers together and straightening her back.

Ciri eyed her. "Coming from you, the Countess of Pride."

"Being icy, darling, is not being prideful." Asteria flashed a winning grin. "They call me the Countess of Ice. They're not wrong."

"Not something to be proud of," Io snorted. "No one likes an ice queen."

"No," Asteria smirked. "They love an ice queen. I'm considered an icon, did you know that? Apparently, there's an international band of young debutantes out there who look to emulate me."

"I pity the world when they're unleashed upon us all," Ciri snorted. "The Army of Asteria Lu. I'm positively shaking with terror. I can barely handle one of you, what are we going to do with more?"

"You should be terrified. Anyways, we're done here, don't you think? How efficient we are."

Ciri smiled. "We pride ourselves on that, huh? Go, Io, save Myrina from her solitude."

When she turned around, the countess was staring at them with a peculiar expression. Meeting Ciri's eyes, she tilted her head. Asteria offered a tight smile, before dropping to whisper in Ciri's ear, "Try not to say anything bad about her, to be honest. She's trying."

Ciri frowned. "I didn't mean any harm."

Asteria shrugged in response. "I know. But words could still hurt."

Ciri tilted her head in concession of the point. "Of course. I apologise, then."

Asteria smiled. When Ciri glanced back to where Myrina had been standing moments later, the lady was gone.

Strange. She hadn't even noticed. She turned away and focused on Danna, who had joined them and was complaining about the scope of work she'd been given.

"The amount of disrespect and distrust those guards offer," she was snarling, fists clenched, brows furrowed. "Insane. Then I show them my badge from Irina and they instantly go in line like a bunch of ducklings. Does it hurt to treat me like an equal? I don't know how Rhys deals with this."

Asteria offered a sympathetic smile. "Sorry, Pang. You should bring a Wolf with you next time."

"Tempted to. They see this dress and instantly assume I'm an idiot." Danna smoothed her hair with her fingers. "Cannot wait for all of them to owe me."

"You're going to willingly go to Melique just to prove some stupid guards wrong?" Ciri asked, half-concerned, half-amused.

Danna fixed her with a flat stare. "No. But I don't have much of a choice, so I might as well make it worth my time, damn it. Something to work towards. A goal."

"I'd think the goal is to defeat the Meliqueans," Asteria retorted.

Danna flashed a smile. "That's your goal, dear, not mine. I'm just here to repay my debts."

There it was. The truth. Danna wasn't doing this out of patriotism or loyalty. She wasn't being a spy for the adventure or the thrill. She was doing this because Lady Kuroki's school was the one who plucked her up when she had fallen and gave her a purpose. Because without their support, the Pangs would have fallen apart long ago, and Danna probably exiled in disgrace for a crime she had no hand in. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Danna had no interest in the life of an agent.

Too bad she was so damned good at it, then. And that her heritage gave her far too many advantages to ignore.

Asteria's features softened, a rare sight. It seemed painfully out of place. Asteria was always so closed-off, impossible to read. Plotting and scheming behind those dark eyes. "You don't have to do this, you know."

Danna's brow arched. "No, I think I do. Don't try to guilt-trip me, Asteria."

"I'm not—"

Danna raised a hand, cutting her friend off. "Psh, please. You're not doing it on purpose, but that's what you're doing. I'm too useful for any of you to give up. I get it. I'll do my job. Just don't expect me to enjoy it."

"Danna..."

The girl walked away, leaving Ciri unsure what to say and Asteria looking as if she had just swallowed a sour grape. Eventually, Asteria shook her head and sighed.

Ciri said, "Nothing you could do about it if that's how she feels." Sometimes you have to sacrifice a bit of personal happiness for the greater good. They all understood that. But understanding was different from accepting, as she'd learnt long ago.

"I'm making her miserable," Asteria said, voice flat. She tried to keep it devoid of emotion, but a bit of pain still came through.

"We are making her miserable. And if it wasn't this, she'd be tagging around her sisters, being even more miserable. She's not a girl with options. We all have to do what needs to be done."

Asteria sucked in a breath. "I hate it when you're the wise one."

Ciri was unimpressed. "I'm older than you. Of course I'm the wiser one, Lady Asteria."

"What is Ciri browbeating you about now, Lady Asteria?" Laurence's amused voice carried over to Ciri's ear. She glanced up and glowered. Laurence jokingly took a step back, hands flying up in mock surrender.

Asteria waved her hand in the air. "Nothing important. If you don't mind, I need to talk to someone." Asteria slid out of the conversation as if she had never been there. Ciri's brow furrowed as she watched her leave at the same exit Danna had. That was a bad decision. But it was between them now.

Laurence asked, "Trouble in paradise?"

"Danna is miserable. Asteria feels bad. They'll get over it."

"When there's in-fighting in the Service, Cadieux usually keeps the agents separate for a while or locks them together in a room."

"Just pick the lock," Ciri shrugged, nonchalant.

"In which case they'd find themselves facing Cadieux's wrath. No thank you. I've been locked up with your sister and Marcus before, and it wasn't fun."

"Sounds like torture," she joked.

Laurence replied with a mirroring smile. "It was. We never argued in front of Cadieux again. It's just a recipe for disaster. I'm surprised Cass didn't gut me right there in that little room. She looked like she wanted to. Maybe because she didn't have a knife."

"My sister does not need a knife to be able to kill you."

"No, I suppose not. I could have ended up with my neck wrung." He rubbed it. "I'm rather fond of my neck."

"It's a very nice neck."

His grin widened. "You think so, Miss Diao?"

Across the room, Irina snapped, "You two, stop flirting. Either discuss work or get the hell out."

Ciri pouted. "Don't be rude, Irina. And my partner literally walked out on me."

"You asked me to do diplomatic things," Laurence reminded, tone polite. "This is diplomatic things."

"I'm going to kill both of you," Irina declared, standing up from her seat. "But not yet. You're too useful."

"I'm glad that's the only reason we're being kept alive," Ciri drawled, flicking her wrist outwards. "Truly strikes warmth in my heart, princess."

"Not my intention, my friend, not my intention." Irina had taken out a small purple, silken hand fan from somewhere and was now waving it in front of her chest, the epitome of aristocratic elegance. "Don't you have something to do?"

"Not tonight."

Irina was unimpressed. "Then find something to do. Surely something in this bloody Palace would interest you. Perhaps you could stop Danna from ripping Asteria's throat out, for example." So she had noticed. Ciri always thought she was giving the princess less credit for her observation skills than she deserved.

"My interference would not save Asteria from her certain doom," Ciri retorted, placing a hand on the back of a wooden chair. "Perhaps yours would?"

"Not interested."

"Isn't there a Saian proverb out there about not thrusting responsibilities you do not want to undertake onto someone else?" Laurence asked, amused.

"I believe it's do not treat others the way you do not wish to be treated, but it's good enough for an Arecian." Irina glared, glancing up and down, studying the two. "Ciri, take your viscount out of here. I want some peace and quiet."

Ciri's eyes landed on Ruge, who stood with barely suppressed mirth, then Io chatting with Myrina. "Peace and quiet. Of course."

Irina let out a frustrated growl, and Ciri took that as a cue to leave, snickering as she turned to leave the dining hall. Laurence followed a few steps behind, the respectable, perfect gentleman. She turned her head and smiled.

"Is the princess always so..."

"Grumpy? Yes. It's part of her charm. God save her future husband."

"And kingdom, apparently," Laurence snorted. "Well, she can intimidate the Parliament into submission, that's for sure."

"Through glares and glowers. That should be amusing to watch. Now, if we can find a way to get her to the altar without brute force. That would be a miracle indeed."

"Write an essay listing all the advantages of a match with Prince Stephen. That ought to do the trick."

Ciri threw her head back and laughed. "You understand Longyu so well it's slightly scary. Yes, that should work. We'll come together to draft a very nice article filled with reasons and evidence and have her read it. She'll certainly cast aside all her inhibitions and walk happily to the altar."

Laurence frowned. "Well, I wouldn't go that far..."

He offered his arm. Ciri took it, ignoring the sensation of their bare skin against each other. Saian women didn't wear gloves. She smiled, pushing down the tingling feeling in her stomach. "Is the Prince of Arecia handsome?"

"You have not met him?"

"I've seen portraits," Ciri shrugged, "but not the man himself."

"More of a boy," Laurence mused. "He's only nineteen. Your age. But yes, he is quite handsome. Brown hair, dark hazel eyes. Very... regal, if you get what I mean. Every inch a prince."

"Our princess is every inch a princess."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say they were made for each other. I'm a bit concerned on how their personality would match, but the princess would mature, and so would he. By the time this match truly needs to be made, they should be alright."

Ciri tilted her head. "I know it is impossible, but I do wish Irina a good match."

"Prince Stephen would be one, I think. They're both ambitious. Both are capable. They might clash, but they'll have to learn to compromise. Everyone does. Everyone has to."

"Everyone in a functional marriage, that is," Ciri chortled. "Which, quite honestly, isn't a lot of people. Very disheartening."

"I thought you didn't believe in true love?"

"Just not for me," Ciri admitted. "I'd be discrediting many bonds otherwise. Marcus and Cass, for example."

"Why not you?" He seemed genuinely curious, not a single hint of judgment in his tone.

She shrugged. It wasn't an answer, and he knew it, but he didn't press. He was polite that way. Very considerate of her feelings.

Maybe that was why she felt the way she did. It probably wasn't, but it was nice to think of it that way. Prevented a lot of problems. She had enough of those in her life. Didn't need more, especially ones that came from the inside.

After all, the most dangerous enemies were the ones that came from within.

Dangerous boy.

But she didn't say that. Didn't let what she was thinking show. And when he changed the topic to something unimportant, she let herself be carried along, smiling and grinning. No one was here to see them anyways, she didn't have to be respectable and perfectly proper.

For a few moments, she let herself be free. She let herself laugh, let herself smile, let herself lean in a bit more than she should have. Felt the night air against her cool skin. Felt his gaze on her, indecipherable, and savoured it.

There'd never be a moment like this. Not for someone like her. Not for girls who lied like they were born to do it, who hid scheme and plot and malice behind a beautifully constructed veneer that charmed and lured like a spider. She looked perfect, but girls like her had hidden darkness. Were burdened with nightmares. The luckier ones could carry on as if nothing was wrong.

The others let it drag them down, slowly. Ciri always felt like she was dangling dangerously close to that.

"Stop stressing," he suddenly said. She blinked out of her trance.

"What?"

He smiled. "I said stop stressing. You're thinking hard and it shows on your face."

Ciri scowled. "You could have offered no greater insult. Should have played the gentlemen and pretended not to notice."

That made him smirk, for some reason. "Where's the fun in that?"

Ciri huffed and tugged at his arm to make him walk faster. He complied, making a great show out of it. But despite his carefree expressions and words, there was an inner darkness looming under him too. She wondered about it and then told herself to ponder upon it later, when she was alone. Might help her sleep. Trying to put together mysteries had a soporific effect on her for some reason. That was why she worked on the field, receiving orders, instead of staying behind the scenes to give them.

They were nearing their palace now, somewhat. Zui Yan Gong was somewhere down the line of buildings. Their footsteps slowed again, as if neither wanted the walk to end.

Dangerous, dangerous. Of all the choices she'd made so far, this might be one of the worse. She forced rationality back into her brain.

This time, he didn't comply. She glared.

"Why the rush?"

"I'm tired," she lied. "It's been a busy day."

"Fair. But I think someone of your caliber can stand a few more minutes of walking." There was a teasing light in his eyes. She stuck her tongue out before rolling her eyes.

"You're being annoying. And mocking."

"Ah, my default state." His spare hand pressed against his chest. "You've cut me to the bone, Miss Diao."

"My intent, Lord Archsham. My intent."

"And here we see the lanterns of the Drunken Flower Palace." He tilted his head forward. "Someone has considerately left it on for us."

"If they did not, they'd have gotten sacked," Ciri pointed out.

"I suppose so. Tragic, isn't it, how such a small mistake could destroy someone's entire livelihood?"

"It's their job," she replied. "They might as well do it properly."

He didn't seem to agree, but didn't voice his opinion either. The Palace was quiet, everyone either asleep, out, or staying out-of-sight. The main house was dark. Laurence glanced at that. "Lord Hua is out."

Ciri shrugged. "He frequently is."

"I wonder, where does he go?"

Ciri raised a brow, as if saying, are you really asking that?

He looked amused. "I mean, I know, but... ah, never mind." He pulled his hand through his short dark hair, smiling and looking back down at her. "And this is where we part, Miss Diao?"

She slipped her arm from his, curtsying slightly. "I assume so, Lord Archsham."

He took her hand again, and although she was ready for it this time, she could still feel her breathing quicken when he pressed his lips against the back of her hand. A perfectly chaste kiss, respectable as all hell, but when he straightened, he looked a bit taken aback too.

He swallowed, then quickly collected himself. "Goodnight, Ciri."

"Goodnight, Laurence," she said before turning away, a small smile on her face. It faded once she was out of sight.