Ever since his brother had ditched the mortal realm in favor of blissful vegetable ignorance, Eker had given too much thought to the exact circumstances of his death. In his mind, he'd always pictured a dramatic coup in the middle of his throne room, faithful guards bleeding around him while they gave their lives to protect their King. His own trembling arms would have held onto the royal sword until he would at last be cut down by dozens of onrushing enemies. He would stumble, head thrown backwards in a silent plea to the cruel heavens, sword clattering dramatically onto red tiles in an otherwise silent room, where the evil usurpers and dying guards alike would watch his glorious ascension to legend, while the people outside the palace walls would start singing his praises and celebrate him as a martyr for centuries to come.

That was the perpetual image of Eker's death, and incidentally, one of his biggest nightmares. First, he wanted to avoid being usurped in the first place, since only a simpleton couldn't hold on to the throne while every one of his enemies was preoccupied with being at each other's throats, be them court ministers, or foreign ambassadors. Second, he didn't want to be remembered as a martyr by the general population. In fact, he wished for them not to notice him at all, knowing in the back of their minds that Kassi did indeed have a king, but not someone who was overly infatuated with his own persona. The only people Eker wanted to be remembered by were future scholars, who would teach about his reforms in dry, academic circles, where they would praise and criticize him in equal measure. His silent impact upon the way his precious country was run would be his crowning achievement, even though the desired effects could only be reached well beyond his lifetime. Still, he aimed for this ideal, and while living this fantasy, he avoided thinking about death altogether, lest he became depressed again.

But as the masked intruder shattered his meager defenses and violated his cozy hiding spot, the novel thought occurred to the King that neither of those scenarios were likely to play out. He was now confronted with the very real and embarrassing possibility of being dealt with in a cramped armoire, where he would probably not be found for days until the servants started noticing the smell.

He took a deep breath, trying to fool himself into believing he could be brave. Yet as he stood frozen, huddled into a corner with the little oil lamp casting a fitful light over his accounting sheets, the stranger failed to immediately seize the opportunity of plunging a dagger into his heart. In fact, it took a long moment for him to realize the armoire was occupied.

When he did, Eker did the unthinkable and acted first. Left to his own devices, the black-clad figure would have burst outside screaming, but he quickly reached around the intruder from behind and pulled him away from the doors. His efforts were hindered by a bulky sack that dug uncomfortably into his ribcage, but he managed to clasp one hand against the stranger's chest and another atop the mask covering his mouth. He then lowered his head and hissed against what he approximated to be an ear.

"Quiet, or they'll find us both!"

He marveled at the steadiness of his voice, all the experience he'd had at appearing commanding over the past three weeks pouring into yet another order. He'd actually meant it as a plea - a far better one than "Please don't kill me"- and he prayed the stranger couldn't tell the difference.

Eker held his breath as he saw one of the gloved hands lifting slowly, then coming down onto his own hand and prying it away from the other one's chest.

It was only then that he realized he'd touched something he shouldn't have.

Hastily, he removed his other hand from her face and she immediately started spitting and sputtering jumbled curses that made him blush on her behalf.

"Turn that thing off," she croaked at him.

He'd been right - she was a woman, a Kassi native judging by her accent.

"Didn't you hear me?"

An annoyed Kassi woman. He blinked.

"What?"

"The lamp, you dolt," she hissed.

Eker turned to glance back at his poor little oil lamp and winced at the prospect of being plunged into darkness alongside a potentially murderous female. On the other hand, he'd never been openly sworn at before, and against his better judgment, he seemed to be intrigued by the prospect.

"But then it would be dark!"

"That's the point, genius."

"I thought you said I was a dolt."

"I did, and you're proving me right with every passing second."

Eker scowled, unsure of what to make of this woman and her strange reactions and requests. She let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Look, I need to take this thing off," she went on, gesturing to the mask, "and I don't want you seeing my face."

"But you saw my face," he protested indignantly.

"No, I didn't, and if you don't want me to turn around now and take a good long look, you're going to do what I say."

Eker's hand moved to the lamp of its own accord while still muttering protests under his breath. He thought he'd be prepared for the moment when he lowered the wick, but he hadn't quite grasped what a big difference it would make. That small flickering sliver of light had defined these cramped quarters, but now, plunged in absolute darkness, Eker couldn't tell where the borders were or if they existed at all. The fact that he was now sharing this undefined new space with a stranger - a woman no less - should have rendered him speechless with terror, but he found himself to be more inquisitive instead.

"I don't suppose you feel inclined to tell me your name?"

The woman snorted, the sound no longer muffled by cloth.

"Edelin Ettari," she said drily.

"Really? Only, I don't remember my..." He cleared his throat noisily, trying to cover his blunder. "...Hearing stories of her nightly excursions. In fact, I seem to remember she was well known for her heroics on the battlefield."

"Everybody needs a hobby. It's healthy and makes you less of a nuisance to everybody else."

Immediately, Eker conjured up a vivid picture of his long-dead great-grandmother, the famous warrior queen, relaxing with a bout of knitting after a long day spent slaughtering the Iskarians at the Southern border. And the one holding out the yarn was this strange other woman he was now stuck with. 

At this point, even if this was all just an incredibly sadistic ploy before she finally plunged a hidden dagger into him, Eker decided he'd gladly play along until the end. It wasn't as if he had anywhere to hide or run away to.

"Mind if I call you Eddi, for short?" he asked mildly. "I warn you, I'm terrible at names, but I'll make a special effort in your case."

"I'd rather you didn't. When you wake up in the morning, you'll only remember me as a vague dream. You won't believe it happened for real."

"I really hope it didn't happen, otherwise I might be truly embarrassed. This is no proper receiving room for a lady."

"As far as I see it, it's not proper for anyone. So why are you here? Locking yourself from the inside, no less."

"Evidently, I didn't want to be found. Which brings me to your unsanctioned invasion, so I now feel obligated to ask why you were roaming around the corridors and felt the need to hide yourself in here."

She didn't answer, and Eker narrowed his eyes in concentration. While his vision in the dark hadn't improved, he was starting to grasp the situation. He considered the woman's desperation at breaking into his armoire, and then there was her strange black garb, the kind he'd only seen illustrated in fairytales, when the baddies were sent by the Supreme Evil to break into the Good Guy's home and do all sorts of mischief. So, what was her flavor of crime?

Assassin would have presented the biggest danger to his person, but that was proving less likely as time passed and she still kept him alive. Then there was the possibility of her being a spy, but a spy would have taken a long, good look at him, wouldn't have appeared so disinterested, and wouldn't have interacted with him in the first place. Unless this was another scheme and she was a very good actress.

He heard a soft rustle as she shifted around, and he was immediately reminded of her deceptively bulky backpack. A nasty suspicion wormed its way into his mind, and he couldn't stop himself from voicing it.

"Are you a thief?"

Another motion, as if she'd just shrugged off the accusation.

"Like I said, everybody needs a hobby," she said simply.

Eker didn't know what to make of this development. On the one hand, he knew he was in no immediate danger unless he did something incredibly stupid, since what she'd be most interested in was getting away without a trace. On the other hand, the thought of someone breaking into his home and carrying away whatever she saw fit did not sit well at all. The way he saw it, every item in the palace did not belong to him, but to the people. She was stealing from them all and he was powerless to protest since he didn't want to make a fuss and be discovered.

Still, he couldn't just let it go.

"Would you mind telling me how you broke in?"

He wasn't expecting a response, but she surprised him again by volunteering one in an unmistakably boastful tone.

"I didn't break in, I walked in."

"How?"

"Easily."

Eker scowled at the darkness in her direction.

"So you masqueraded as an employee?"

"I suppose you could say that."

"But how?" he insisted, then added hastily "Asking for a friend."

She chuckled and he could feel his cheeks beginning to warm, for once grateful for the lack of illumination.

"Well, my ignorant wardrobe dweller, it might prove beneficial to you to exit your quarters once in a while and get to live in the real world."

He chafed at that, mainly because he'd been spending too much time lately trying to create a better reality for his fellow countrymen. He was still far removed from his goal, and right now, he couldn't even get a straight answer out of her.

"Alright," he conceded. "It's clear that you're not partial to sharing."

"Maybe I would be, if you led by example."

Rendered speechless by being asked to do the exact opposite, Eker drew a blank for further topics of conversation. It was therefore the secretive thief who broke the ensuing silence.

"Don't you fear that you'll run out of air and die?"

"There are breather holes drilled into the frame," he replied automatically. "Unnoticeable, but very effective. Sometimes I can feel the aromas drifting in from the kitchen."

As if on queue, her stomach growled in a most unladylike fashion.

"Speaking of convenient holes," she went on as if her body hadn't just given her away, "can you see outside through them?"

"No, sorry. They're too small for that."

She grumbled under her breath and shifted around some more, which made Eker suspect that she longed to stretch her legs. For active individuals, comfort was a tall order to achieve in cramped spaces if one wasn't used to it.

"Then how do you know when the coast is clear?"

Eker shrugged, though he was aware that she couldn't see him.

"That's not a problem for me, since I lose track of time and usually get out in the middle of the night. There's no one around then. Other than that..." He considered for a moment. "You could listen at the door. It's thinner around the top, where the ventilation comes."

"Isn't that nice," she said dryly, and her stomach rumbled again.

After a somewhat embarrassing pause, Eker felt obliged to offer assistance.

"Would you like a sandwich? It's salad and cheese."

"That depends. Are you trying to poison me?"

He could feel the skepticism in her voice and couldn't help but be outraged at the suggestion. He breathed in steadily, and for the first time since he'd taken up hiding in this repurposed linen armoire, wondered whether the ventilation was sufficient for the both of them. But if she even began to suspect that he wanted to leave...

"I can't see a damned thing in this place, and you think I happen to have poisons on me just in case I get sequestered by uncommunicative thieves?"

"Why not? Plenty of people carry around poisons."

Eker had just been about to inquire what sort of person would do that, but then he thought of Hanadan, and promptly decided to shut up. Still, for some incomprehensible reason, he didn't want her to starve on his watch.

"Let's try something else, then," he said. "My sandwich should be to the left and behind you, so I couldn't have reached it since you came in here. Now, I'm feeling generous, so I won't add the value of the sandwich to the total damage you caused the crown with your thieving spree."

"Thieving spree?" she repeated in disbelief. "What do you take me for?"

"A thief."

She muttered again, and Eker thought he could make out some distinctly unflattering remarks regarding his person. And then, he heard a paper wrapping being torn apart.

"How do I know you didn't put poison in it before I came?" she asked, even as she took the first bite.

"Are you asking if I have suicidal tendencies?"

She chewed and swallowed loudly before answering.

"You have to admit, it takes a certain kind of person to sit in a wardrobe for hours on end."

"What kind of person?"

"I'm still deciding."

They sat quietly after that, and for the first time in his life, Eker did not feel the need to be thinking about something. He let his mind wonder, free of barriers and worries, since he could hardly do anything else in the present circumstances.

At length, her voice broke the congenial silence, and he shook himself to pay attention.

"Is everyone gone?," she'd asked.

He heard her shifting around, then felt an arm brush by his leg as she carefully stood up.

"I can't hear anything," she whispered after a while. "I think I should go."

Eker disagreed, but he could hardly ask her to stay.

"I wish I could say it's been a breath of fresh air meeting you here," she went on, "but I think that's taking it too far."

In the safety of the darkness, Eker winced, and was glad he hadn't gone with pickled fish as his sandwich filling choice, otherwise this whole scenario would have been even more embarrassing.

"Well, we haven't died of asphyxiation," he said sourly, "so you can at least say that it's been a breath of air."

Her laughter was low and stirring, making him perk up even while knowing he should be put off by her criminal intentions.

"Let's leave it at that," she agreed, then swung the doors open so forcefully that they protested loudly.

Crouching back against the corner to shield his eyes from the merciless onslaught of light, it took a few moments to register that hinges couldn't have grumbled and squeaked to that extent. And then he heard the cursing.

Dumbfounded, he crawled on all fours towards the exit, which the thief hadn't yet closed. Peeking outside, he was met with the disconcerting sight of two masked intruders, wearing a near identical garb, only one of them was lying in a heap on the floor and the other was spewing curses at the situation. Even through narrowed eyes, Eker recognized the ladder as the thief, so he turned his attention to Mysterious Interloper Number Two.

It was definitely a man. He was still conscious, though heavily encumbered by a blow he'd received to his head, judging by the way he was clutching at it, the long dagger he held in one hand angled to cut off his nose if he moved it slightly in the wrong direction.

A shiver ran down Eker's spine as the danger he was in finally dawned on him. It had been easier in the confines of his supposedly safe space, where he could pretend that every worldly concern was far removed from his person, but then reality just had to set in as abruptly as possible.

Any fleeting hope of asking for salvation was extinguished as he quickly scanned the empty corridor. Warm currents of air were still drifting by, so the workers couldn't have been gone for long, but they were all likely out of earshot now. If he were to succumb to a deadly plot in this isolated spot, he had no one else to blame but himself.

"Your accomplice?" he asked tentatively, and immediately started back as she fixed him with a pointed glare.

"You think I'd associate myself with idiots who walk around with naked blades? This is so annoying, I only have one!"

"One what? A blade?"

But she wasn't looking at him anymore.

"You don't happen to have any rope on you, do you?" she muttered, one hand reaching for a waist pocket hidden beneath a fold of her black vest.

"Maybe you could find something similar in the laundry?" he suggested. "It's at the left end of the hallway."

She paused in her search and scowled at him. Eker blinked back, unsure about whether to feel scared or intrigued, never mind what he should do.

"Breath in," she ordered, and then moved so swiftly he barely had time to react.

Grabbing him by the scruff of his neck with one hand, she held out the other under his nose, then blew on it with surprising force. He started coughing immediately, raising his own hands to wrap around her throat, but it was too late. His head spun, his vision blurred, and every part of his body might as well have been tied down with lead weights. He wanted to conjure up one last image of what should have been his glorious demise, but even that final wish winked out before the merciless onrushing darkness.