5
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It was only the King and her.

    The people in the ball-room no longer mattered. Yazia noticed the women that were earlier waiting in line near the dais reluctantly staying far from the dance-floors, and whispering words she didn't care so much about--their eyes full of envy. Envy that Yazia didn't even have to wait in a line to be graced with a moment of the King's presence.

    Yazia locked eyes on the Sovereign. She kept mindful of the distance between them, though she wished she could step closer. The orchestra struck up a wondrous melody; one played just for him--for them.

    She didn't know the steps to this song, but she studied the King's movement, as she would study an opponent during combat. Every movement mattered.

    The King led the dance, with one hand in front, the other behind his back. Then he stepped forward, and although reluctant, Yazia stepped backward. Nerves ate at her insides, afraid of what would happen if she were to break the three feet rule, but she tried to make certain that the King would not be the only one in the lead of the dance. That she had control too.

    He stepped left, and Yazia mirrored him. In motion with the sounds of the melody, they continued on, back and forth, her dress flowing between her legs as she twirled, dancing with the King of Abingor. The only sound in the room was the strings of the violinist, able to cover up the loud thumping of her heart.

    The King held his arm out to Yazia, as though he wanted her to give in to the distance and take hold of it, that was the moment that she quickly realised he was testing her. She swallowed.

    No, it's too soon to mess it all up now. Keep calm...three feet apart.

    Yazia kept her composure, consistently reminding herself that she couldn't tear apart her plans so quickly, just as she couldn't abort her mission. She brought her hand to his, her palm facing his. But they never touched, not once.

    Yazia twirled with the motions of the music. This was in her element, and she felt comfortable; dancing brought her so much joy. But this time, unlike the many times before, the beat wasn't playing in her mind, instead it was only three words repeated like a broken-record.

    Three feet apart. Three feet apart.

    The King's eyes became intimidating all too fast as he studied her, watched her. Yazia didn't wish to look upon his eyes much longer, and she forced herself to keep her glances across the room subtle. But all eyes were on her. Everyone was staring at her, and only her.

    Her eyes darted back to the King's cold ones once more. Yazia's heart pounded like a drum, suddenly feeling trancened by his icy eyes. In that short moment she felt safe, for what felt like the first time in a long time.

    The plan raced through her mind. She almost re-considered it. It'll probably be much more convenient for her to bargain her way out. The only problem was that there shouldn't be any margin for hesitation.

    I need to make him pay for what he did to my parents. If I backed out now—

    The song stopped. By the time they stopped dancing, Yazia was relieved to know they were still three feet apart. She felt nothing but his eyes and saw nothing but his face. The rest of the world would never matter now that she had caught his attention now that her plan was in action.

    Even when the King's lips moved, and words tumbled out of them, making a triumphant fire inside her flare to life, it couldn't prepare her for what was happening. "I'm intrigued, My Lady," he had said. But now, the King was turning away. Without another word, he stalked out of the centre of the room and headed straight for the dais.

    Yazia had been dismissed. Dismissed as quickly as all the other girls who waited hours in line for him.

    What did I do wrong? This was supposed to work. The King was supposed to say more than that!

    A burst of anger shot through her veins.

    No, I can't fail! My country depends on me. This is supposed to be my chance.

    "Wait!" Yazia heaved out, reaching for him. She didn't think—only walked closer, openly breaking the three feet rule. The crowd gasped.

    With that, the King turned around. His eyes, like ice; a lifeless gaze through hers. Shadows lifted off him, inching toward Yazia when he stepped in her direction. Instead of stepping back, he drew mere inches away from her.

    "You have no idea who I am, do you?" he whispered, sending shivers down Yazia's spine.

    "What kind of a question is that, Your Majesty? You're a King, are you not?" Yazia felt the heat rush to her cheeks. She was reminded of the many staring faces only when the surrounding crowd erupted into a laugh at her remark.

    Is this a test? Some form of mockery? He has no idea who I am either, I'll show him.

    "I'm only excusing your insolence because you are my guest," he said, "otherwise, you'd have met your end in a rotted dungeon rather than a ballroom." The King's gaze burned through her skin, rattling Yazia's every nerve.

    "Forgive me, Your Majesty," she paused briefly. "There is one last thing, may I?" Yazia's heart sped, her breathing came out ragged, but she refused to surrender and back down now. Not after everything she had witnessed in Sankori.

    The King arched his neck slightly, and to no surprise said nothing.

    I will not have him dismiss me, I must do something.

    Yazia turned, and her eyes gazed over the room in search of that one guard who had taken care of her belongings while she danced. He was easy enough to spot in the crowd of faces. Each face stared at her with befuddlement in their eyes, and some even with amusement, like she were an animal practising great tricks at a circus.

    Yazia turned and headed straight for the Royal Guard that held her black box. Inside, would be a delicacy for the King, her kindest regards if she were to fail this mission, if he were to dismiss her once more. "Thank you, Sir." She said, and took the box, turning to face the Sovereign.

    Yazia was normally good at being able to read people, and understand or sympathise with how they were feeling. The face told stories, and emotions would leak from within. But the King, he was unreadable. There were no emotions.

    Slowly, Yazia walked back up where the King was perched atop of the dais steps. She no longer cared about his mindless safety measures, and walked atop the first step. The King didn't move, but when the guards rushed to his aid with their spears at the ready, to create the distance between them both again, the King raised his left hand. They were dismissed.

    He didn't need their safety. But he also had no idea what Yazia had in mind for him. She felt untouchable. She would be untouchable, with his power, with his Kingdom and with her unrestrained revenge.

    Yazia handed over the narrow box that she had brought into the ballroom with her, the gift itself wrapped with care. Normally, a gift would symbolise love, respect, or affection--but hers would be a threat.

    "For you, Your Majesty, a gift," she said and handed it over. For a brief moment, his gloved hand grazed hers when he took it. He didn't hesitate to open the gift. She had watched the Sovereign open gifts before from every lady who graciously gifted him. But none of them had gifted him daggers, none except her dared.

    There were two daggers inside of the box--the very two she had travelled with, daggers that her father had gifted her when she had won her first ever tournament. They had an ornate blade each in serpentine shape forged from steel. Both blades were fixed to a beautiful hilt, the end sculpted in the shape of a kraken on one, and on the other a ship. Abstract patterns were carefully carved into both of the blades.

    How she wished to have him writhing in pain as she twisted the very blades into his cold heart.

    Yazia's thoughts were interrupted, leaving her mind quickly when the King snapped the narrow box closed and passed it to a nearby royal guard.

    Did he like them? What if he didn't? What now?

    "Thank you, Lady..." the King paused briefly, "Forgive me, but I don't believe I have caught your name."

    "Malya Leski, Your Highness." With the rate that Yazia's heart pounded inside of her chest, if it hadn't rested inside of the cage of her body—she could have sworn it would tear itself out of her chest at any moment.

    "Well then, thank you Lady Leski, I'll take fondly to your offering. I do hope you'll enjoy the rest of this dazzling evening ball. You wouldn't want to miss out on the rest of it," he said, and turned to walk the rest of the steps of the dais.

    Yazia rushed forward, but was unable to take another step.

    Royal Guards that had surrounded the dais swiftly blocked her pathway from making further contact with the King of Abingor who now rested atop the throne.

    "Your Royal Highness has requested you enjoy the evening, ma'am." The dreaded words. The words uttered from the closest guard's mouth had her reluctantly step back and away from the steps of the dais.

    I have failed. The King doesn't care!

    Draven was right. Maybe this was too hard of a mission to complete for her. The King had too much safety surrounding him that she didn't about who was protecting the King himself prior to this journey. Yazia had walked into a losing battleground. There'd be no victory in sight tonight.

    Had she been more angered by the King, she would immediately challenge to take a blade to his throat at this very moment if she could make it possible. She'd have her hands on the very man who had killed her father, and watch him bleed dry.

    But this was impossible.

    How could I be so foolish?

    Yazia turned in haste and headed for the table laden with red-filled glasses. She selected a glass, held it in her fingers by the long stem and brought the edge to her lips.

    Now is a great time to be parched. I need a drink.

    Yazia's eyes darted across the ball-room for a familiar face but was too embarrassed to meet eyes with any of the faces she did catch sight of. She had foolishly humiliated herself in front of all these people. In front of the King.

    She then found an archway that gave entry to the garden. Perhaps a breath of fresh air was just what she needed to clear her head and think of a new plan. Yazia walked across the ballroom, though many faces of the guests were now distracted by the melodic orchestra that flooded the night.

    The royal garden is smothered in moonlight, washing it with a dusty glow. Towards the end of the garden there is a grove of trees. The fog that coiled around them seemed old and fey.

    Yazia sat on a wooden bench in silence and watched the moon above her. Its lonely peak looked just like a torc and its full splendour gleamed down onto the patchwork of the grass, setting the garden alight with its own type of flame.

    A garden just like at home, Father. A garden with just us to spend eternity in.

    Leaves crunched below one's feet, snapping her from her thoughts. Her eyes darted across to the archway, and met with Prince Aeneas'.

    "Forgive me, My Lady. I did not mean to intrude. I thought you may have wished for some company," Aeneas said.

    "It's quite alright, Aeneas." Yazia paused briefly, her eyes rolling down to her hands resting on her lap. "Come sit, we can share the moon's glory together."

    The bench creaked below Aeneas' weight as he sat next to her in silence for a few brief moments, and they stared up at the moon together.

    "The way you talk of the moon, My Lady. It must be rather special to you," Aeneas said, a smile tugged at his lips in the dark.

    Yazia didn't quite mind him vocalising his thoughts. After-all, the moon was indeed special to her. She'd watched it for months after her parents' death. It was the only thing that truly stayed behind to comfort her, and lovingly coat her in a safe blanket.

    "It is special, you're right. My father's spirits rest with the moonlight," she said and turned, briefly smiling back. In the evening solace, her father would watch over her. Guide her.

    Only then were they intruded by a royal guard. "Lady Leski?" he asked.

    "Yes, that is me," Yazia confirmed. Her heart pounded inside of her chest once more. This time, with fear.

    What have I done? What in the name is this?

    "Forgive me, Lady Leski, but the King of Abingor has changed his mind. By his orders, you are requested to stay behind and join his court only after the royal ball is complete. He will bring a servant to collect you, and will speak with you then. Do you accept it?"

    "I suppose I should not disappoint His Majesty, I accept," she said.

    This was her chance. She would take it, and this time, Yazia vowed to herself that she would not fail.

    She'd see him bleed dry after-all.

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