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Yazia was startled awake by a jolt, causing her to bump into the chariot frame.

    "Woah, are you alright?" Aeneas asked when she straightened up and looked out of the window. It appeared they had changed tracks.

    "Yes, I am fine," Yazia mumbled, her eyes watching the track they were headed for a few moments. "Are we close yet?"

    How long have I been asleep? I never meant to let my guard down this long...

    Yazia instinctively reached for the hilt of her sword, glad it was still there, and that she hadn't been stolen from. She wouldn't know what to do without them; her weapons were all she had left to protect her. She recalled that anybody could be searching for her now that she had disappeared from Sankori. Yazia was sure that this new lane was headed straight for Abingor, not far away.

    "We're not far away now. You haven't been asleep very long, don't worry." Prince Aeneas was perched on the opposite bench of the carriage across from her. She followed the direction of his eyes, which were locked on the window, gazing over the lane himself. They were more alike than she thought.

    Yazia let out an almost relieved sigh, and sat back. Her mind wandered back to Draven, and her last conversation with him at the library in Sankori. He insisted she shouldn't have taken this journey. But he kept too many secrets from her, ones she had to search for answers for.

    Such as why Abingorian guards would attack. Or why Yazia had found herself here, outside of Sankori with a prince she didn't know much about, and on her way to an enemy abode down a lane in the dark of noon.

    "How long have I been asleep?"

    "Not long." His eyes found hers briefly. "You will need a change of clothes, and some food in your stomach before you present yourself to the King."

    Yazia scowled. She didn't think that anything was wrong with her attire, though she barely saw the state of herself. One thing she knew, she didn't need a ball-gown to kill a man. To kill the man who had supposedly instructed the usurp of her lineage, and assassinated her parents right in front of her just years ago.

    Now, she had a chance to make it right.

    I'll do it tonight.

    Yazia's heart pined. Her pointed ears dropped, and she felt her eyes get wet as she mourned for who she lost those years ago. She missed them. She missed her father, and missed practising sparring with him. She missed the warmth of his caress. Yazia had forgotten how greatly she had buried these memories away--how it had been a while since she thought of him. Now she grew more sad by the minute even trying to remember whether his eyes were chocolate, or honey-brown.

    She stared down at her calloused hands that were dusted with the soil of her land. Her now barren, and stolen land.

    Yazia blinked the tears away when her sight went blurry. She knew that by leaving her kingdom behind, Draven would not be able to keep Sankori intact for long. Perhaps he was already dead, too. If they found him, they'd be able to find her, and then it would be over. At least with the choices she was making now, there was hope that Draven would be able to survive while her parents could not. She remembered why she was doing this. Why it was so crucial she got it right, and made no mistake.

    For my people.

    The Kingdom's of Sankori and Abingor had been at each other's gates for as long as she could remember, ever since she was little. But she didn't know why. It had been too late to ask when she found her parents bleeding out, on the cold marble floor. It had been one of the reasons she postponed her coronation, since she hoped her parents could be there to see it.

    And now they'd never be.

    "Where do you have in mind for me to dress?" Yazia muttered faintly.

    "We'll stop at a tavern; Balthasar knows of it, from a friend. They should be able to give us a meal, too," Aeneas informed and shifted his gaze back to hers. "Are you okay, my lady?"

    "Yes, yes." Yazia forced a smile out and broke eye-contact. At least he had a plan. Aeneas could help her, whether he knew her mission or not. She could continue to lie, and use her charm taught in court to take advantage of him. Prince Aeneas was a nice man, but Yazia had nobody else to turn to.

    I have to use all the help I can get.

    "So," Aeneas starts, "I've been quite curious about you ever since I laid eyes on you in the ring. It's rare to see an Elven creature like you in these lands, Yazia."

    Her eyes shot up to meet his.

    How could I be so stupid? Of course he'd have realised I am not a Human.

    Consciously, she went to touch her ears, and briefly traced a finger over the pointed arch. Yazia then quickly patted her wind-swept golden locks to cover them.

    "Do you have any gifts?" he asked.

    "No," Yazia lied, "but my father had them."

    It was common for an Elf in these lands, especially of royal-blood to have gifts, or abilities. But Yazia knew that they had to be discreet about it, and about what information they gave out to Humans. Humans saw their abilities as a threat. It was after-all what started this War.

    But it wouldn't end it. Her gift could get her into more danger. It could get her killed.

    Luckily, with the lie she was taught to say all her life to every Human besides Draven, her brother--Yazia was useless to any Human she came across. She was weak. The only Elves in danger were those with gifts, either used as a weapon, or feared and slaughtered.

    Like my father.

    Without Yazia alive, Sankori would rot for good. Elves were the life-source of Sankori, but such magic grew scarce every day. The closer that their enemies got, the less they'd be able to fend for their land. Sankori was slipping from her grasp at this very moment.

    "Well then that's good. I was nervous for a second that I was carrying you across borders and that we'd fall into a death-trap," Aeneas said, and cleared his throat briefly. He looked out of the window. "We're here."

    She traced his gaze, and looked out too. From the outside of the tavern, sandstone pillars made up most of the structure; it was difficult to look through the glass panels of the old building to see what awaited her, as it was covered in dust and sand.

    "Perfect," she mumbled. The carriage came to a halt. They were at the tavern, on the border of both Sankori, and Abingor. This was the halfway point. Aeneas exited the carriage first, and she followed after.

    Yazia's gaze diverted to Balthasar, the coach-man, who had taken Princess Darla's trunk out of the carriage and had lugged it through the doors of the tavern.

    Oh, I hope we're not staying the night.

    Yazia admittedly felt like a nervous wreck from the inside. She didn't dare think about how far away from Sankori she was, or how she had just stepped onto Abingorian land. This was it.

    "I'll be just a second, you go on ahead," Yazia called after Aeneas, and watched him enter the tavern, leaving her behind. She looked down to the sand below her feet, and took a deep breath. Yazia couldn't just walk in there like this.

    All she had to do to provoke her gifts was to think about it. She then gently glided a hand across her face, and soon enough, tingles shot through her veins, and a thin veil only she could see, concealed all elven features to the human eye.

    "So, we are just here to eat, right?" Yazia asked when she had entered inside, the floors creaked below her slippers. She had found Aeneas sat at a table nearby. Yazia was greeted by a feeling of discomfort from watchful eyes when she had walked up to Aeneas, and sat at the table.

     The tavern wasn't packed, but she clutched protectively to her sword anyway. Yazia didn't plan to withdraw it, but it gave her a sense of comfort when she heard the faint whispers of cloaked individuals around her. Even convinced that she heard growling nearby.

    Yazia then saw a wild lunatic who swung a drunken punch at another man, shoving him against a wooden table. Plates clattered to the floor, but nobody stepped in to stop it. Yazia tried to turn a blind eye, too.

    I must not be afraid. It could be worse. We're only here for a short while, there's no need to panic.

    "Yes." Aeneas broke her thoughts. "We won't be here long."

    She nodded, relieved as she momentarily rested her hands on the sticky table. Soon, food was placed in front of her. Her stomach grumbled when she realised how long it had been without food. Unidentifiable chunks floated in the dirt-brown stew. Vile smells filled her nostrils, coming from the bowl.

    Maybe it tastes better than it looks...? Yazia picked up the spoon to taste.

    "On second thought...," Aeneas whispered, and stole the spoon from her grasp. "Perhaps you should change? We can eat after."

    Yazia went to comment. "But--"

    Aeneas pointed in the direction of the stairway that led upstairs. Yazia's eyes followed. Squared wooden beams supported the second floor, with sconces attached. She didn't notice before, but in the background a bard strummed his instrument. An ukulele, she recognized the sound from her own court. Seemingly, he was reciting songs to drown out the catastrophic night.

    Yazia then briefly glanced at a woman, waiting for her at the stairs with Balthasar holding Darla's trunk. She obliged, and stood from her chair, walking up to them both. Every step on the stairs up shuddered below her feet. She then found herself winding down a narrow hallway, with doors to enter rooms either side.

    "Oh, here we are!" the woman chimed in, and yanked some keys from her belt. Yazia watched as she fumbled to grab the right one, and place it into the keyhole. Moments later, the door was shoved open and she entered the room after them. Balthasar rested the Lady's trunk on the single bed in the room.

    "Go make yourself at home, dear. Give us a shout if ya need any old thing."

    Before Yazia gave thanks, the woman and Balthasar rushed away elsewhere. Leaving her alone. Finally, alone. Yazia walked up to the trunk, and did not hesitate to open it. She swung open the lid, and opened to find something that would make her feel normal again.

    I'm one step closer. When he falls, it will be a victory. For us, Father.

    The trunk was fit for a princess. Filled with many clothes, but Yazia's eyes were drawn to just one. She carefully picked it up, and turned, placing the dress against herself as she looked in the dusty mirror of the vanity.

    Yazia eyed the fabric thoughtfully. It was a sleeved, shoulder-dress, with an upwards scooping corset. Ruffles of crimson cascaded down from the corset, the skirt pooling about her like a cascading waterfall. The chiffon layering sumptuously against her light-skin would beckon anyone to ask a dance tonight.

    She tried the dress on after briefly bathing her skin and ridding it of the grime and dirt she'd collected on her skin over the past day. The gown served her purpose very well. The corset-top accentuated her neck, and her waist cinched to stomach. The fabric she wore was just enough to give her the presence of a true warrior, and it complimented her now-tidy locks, brown wisps of hair.

    Later tonight, she'd be at the suitors ball. Then and only then clad in her dress, would she finally be able to begin to enact her revenge on the King of Abingor.

    Yazia then caught sight of her ears; only slightly pointed and elvish. With the magic veil wrapped over her, she knew that it would wear off soon; she would have to renew the spell. If the King were to even lay eyes upon her ears, he'd have her imprisoned, and then, she'd lose.

    I don't lose. I won't lose. All of this preparation for battle, I'll finish the deed.

    Yazia couldn't look at herself in the mirror any longer. She then grabbed her indigo cloak, and wrapped it around herself. It did a good job to hide her borrowed gown from prying eyes. The cloak, she'd clutch onto it for as long as possible, for it was the remaining thing that reminded her of her earlier life in Sankori, before it all drastically changed.

    She brushed over her golden locks one last time, and for a brief moment looked at herself in the mirror. With all her years of training for this moment, Yazia was uncertain if this plan tonight at the suitors-ball was truly going to work.

    I've never killed a man before... How hard can it be?

    Would this really change anything? She did not fail to recognise how many people she'd lost on their journey to secure Sankori from threat. No man had won a battle to truly protect it. But this time, Yazia hoped she could be that. To do what those men could not, and to be able to end this war forever.

    It was the only choice her people had. The only chance she had to redeem herself, to prove herself worthy of the Sankorian Throne.

    I can do this. I can do it.

    She decided it was then time to leave. Closing Darla's crate and walking down the creaky stairway, Yazia then searched downstairs for Prince Aeneas. He was sitting at the very same spot he had been when she left.

    "I hope I didn't take too long." Yazia scraped the chair on the old wooden-floor and slid into it.

    "Oh no. I was just happy you were getting yourself acquainted, My Lady." Aeneas turned his head to face Yazia, smiling. "Did you find anything to your liking?"

    Yazia nodded, bowing her head with gratitude for a brief moment. "Yes, your sister had an extravagant taste, and I am thankful for your kindness. Why is it that you are so kind to me?" she asked.

    Aeneas laughed and grabbed a small loaf of bread from the basket on the table. "We're friends, are we not?"

    "Well I--Yes..." A blush rushed to Yazia's cheeks.

    She'd never had the honour of having friends. Not while she had been locked away, awaiting for her arrival to come back to her true home when it was safe again. But the heart of Sankori could never be safe. Not without her there to stop it.

    I just want to go home.

    "Are you ready for us to leave?" Aeneas asked.

    Yazia nodded, and they headed out back to the carriage. She was glad to be leaving the tavern, and now, she'd be ready to get all she desired..

    When the carriage was ready to move again, far from this horrible place--Yazia mentally prepared herself for what was to come. It was time. The King of Abingor will have never wished to have set foot on her home-soil.

    He would have never wished to have met Yazia Paskovka.

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