DAMIEN

I couldn't tell the difference between my mother's funeral and the theater drama we were holding for the public.

I adjust the silk blue cape I wore on top of my formal fighting gear. I didn't even know why it was called fighting gear. It was just an overly fancy form of fighting gear but without any of the weapons. Of course, I hid a bomb underneath, but nothing visible.

I walked down the stairs and journeyed down the hall to enter the main hall. The overhead windows were dark as clouds gathered. Xavier, my father, and Edsel were already gathered in the main hall, waiting for Arielle and me. I was surprised that Arielle was taking so long since she was normally the first person to get ready. Perhaps her meeting with Phoenix took longer than expected.

I wasn't sure why she tried again, but I guess she needed something to distract herself with. At least her distraction was healthier than mine. I thought back to yesterday when I foolishly stole Amelia Balker's medication so that I could sneak under my father's radar. How stupid could I have been? It hasn't even been two years since the car accident where I drove the boy I loved and his sister straight to the grave.

I could still hear the screeching tires, feel the glass piercing my body as I spun through the air, the flashing lights and blurring world. I remember landing in Tristan's lap on impact. I forgot to put on the seat belt. I reached up, tapping his unconscious face to wake him up, my hands coming away covered in blood. It was to no avail. He was dead on impact.

The worst part? They got in the car to convince me to come back to the Golden Palace and get help. I didn't listen, instead of locking them in and starting the car in my drunken haze. They tried to help me and I got them killed for it.

I dug my hands into my pockets, messing with the gears hidden there to pull me out of my thoughts. I couldn't think about the past. Not now. Assassins weren't supposed to cry during funerals, and certainly not the only Royal Kingston. If I wanted to survive, I needed to turn it all off. Xavier was always better at tuning out his emotions, but I could do it for a day. I have to.

I stood by my brother and waited, though not for long. Arielle walked into the main hall in her formal gear and a cape that covered half of her arm. Her hair was tied back and her face giving away no form of emotion. There was nothing there. Just a blank stare. Maybe that's what I looked like now too.

The Crown Fortier scowled. "What took so long?"

Arielle only shrugged, but he answered for her. "The massacre on the streets of Chicago. Why did you even go there at a time like this?"

"I felt like it."

He threw up his hands. "And getting caught in Streeter clothes of all things? Do you know what type of message that sends?"

Arielle visibly snapped at that moment as she stared up at her father with defiance I'd never seen her carry against him.

"What does it send, father? Because as far as I can tell, your cowering behind the golden walls is sending a much worse message than I ever was. I stood up for the Crown and put those Streeters in their place."

"A Raven could've been there!"

"They weren't. And even if they were, they either ran with their tail between their legs or joined the bodies in the street."

Edsel opened his mouth to say something but Arielle cut him off.

"You always wanted me to be a better Assassin, one with the guts to do something and the skill to be unstoppable. Now I have both. What are you going to do about it?"

Edsel only glared at Arielle, expecting her to back down as usual, but she didn't. She glared right back, challenging him at his own game. Xavier watched the entire thing with a keen interest and I watched Xavier, knowing I would have to interrogate him later on his findings.

Or maybe I won't. I can figure it out myself.

Dad cleared his throat and the two broke their glaring match. "We should begin the march."

The Fortiers nodded and quickly sobered up. We walked through the main doors and stepped into the chilly outdoors, my mother's coffin waiting for us by the stairs.

It was blue, of course, but darker than the Intellect color, so dark it would look like black at a distance. The handles weren't quite white, but some shade of off-white that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

I approached the coffin and I pushed down the swarming butterflies.

Emotionless. 

Xavier and I grabbed the handles of the front two corners as mother's two guards picked up the back. We lifted it up, carrying the weight on our shoulders. Dad walked in front of us as we proceeded down the steps of the Golden Palace and onto the glass pathway, the city descending far below. The Fortiers followed and behind them were the servants.

A crowd loomed in the streets of Cressida. As we neared four guards broke away from their position at the head of the passage and stepped in front of Dad, becoming the new heads of the procession as they cleared the path and guarded the Crown Kingston.

Slowly we stepped off the path and onto the main streets of Cressida. The audience watched, bowing their heads and waving their flags in complete silence. Not a single word was uttered, not a baby crying, not a whisper from the curious children. All was a defeating silence only broken by our own marching. For once in my life, I wanted some of these annoying idiots to speak. I didn't want to be left alone with my own thoughts.

At last, we neared a set of stairs that emerged straight from the middle of the main street and bent down into the City of Silver. These were the main stairs which were only ever opened in case of a special occasion. Mother wanted to be buried in the City of Silver, much like many other Royal Kingstons, rather than the City of Gold.

We descended the steps and entered the City of Silver which didn't look quite as silvery at the moment. The light in here was dark from all of the storm clouds gathering in the city above, but there was still enough to make out every face in the area. The High Court was seated in front of the circular city center where the cemetery for the Royal and Crown Assassins resided. Servants stood quietly to the side, carrying an assortment of baskets.

We walked down the aisle, passing numerous Assassins, and climbed onto a platform. Slowly, we put my mother's coffin down on top of a set of rollers and faced the crowd. In the back, I spotted a few cameras broadcasting everything to the entire world. I doubted that the majority of the Streeters were watching at the moment. They were too busy watching their stupid Blood Battles. But the ones that mattered, our enemies, the Ravens would be paying very close attention for any sign of weakness. We would not give them any.

Dad cleared his throat and spoke words I heard him practice so much, I didn't bother paying attention. It was the typical words said at a funeral: she was intelligent and kind and the world always takes the best ones away first. None of it was special to mom, but maybe that's why he was saying it. If he connected to her at this time he would shatter. The thought of my father breaking just like me gave me a bit of selfish comfort.

I looked to the side where, at the other end of the coffin, the Fortiers stood. Suddenly, the Crown Fortier lifted his arm and placed it gently on Arielle's shoulder. Arielle was startled by the comforting gesture and she glared. She must've thought he was mocking her visible distress. He noticed her facial expression and dropped his hand.

Dad ended his speech and the crowd stood as the High Court and their family members lined up in front of the platform, the Intellects first. The servants ran down the line, handing them different colored roses in order.

The first Assassin stepped up to the platform carrying a rose of the same off-white color as the coffin.

"Ivory," Dad announced. "For the charm and grace Erilia Kingston carried herself with."

The Assassin laid the rose down at the foot of the coffin and knelt before it, placing a hand over his chest in an official salute. He uttered the words, "Forever may you reign, Your Majesty," and stepped away.

The next Assassin did the same and so did the ones after him, each repeating the same words. For every few Assassins, the rose colors changed, each being called out by my father: yellow for caring, pink for elegance, and orange for her never-ending energy.

The last color, violet, was reserved for the current Alphas from Evandor Prep. All six lined up in front of the platform and knelt at the same time, repeating their lines in unison. They placed their roses at the base of the coffin.

"Violet for Erilia Kingston's royal status."

A few looked up at Xavier, Arielle, and me, hoping they would catch our attention. I didn't give them any. Most of them were upstarts or people I found annoying who only became Alphas because everyone else who was much more useful either died last year or graduated. Maybe, if today was any other day, I would've given them a smile or a wink to keep them wrapped around my finger, but I wasn't in the mood at the moment.

The Alphas stepped away and a servant handed each of us a dark blue rose. Dad turned to the crowd.

"Finally, a blue rose for Erilia Kingston who always solved the mysteries of the world, achieved the impossible, and attained the unattainable. She was a true Intellect and an unreplaceable Kingston."

He turned around and placed the rose in the center of her coffin. He paused for a moment, looking down at her coffin, and tapped it twice with two fingers. It was a movement they used to do to each other to silently ask if the other was fine or give them comfort.

"Goodbye, Lia," he whispered.

Turning around he said, "Forever may she reign."

Xavier and I stepped forward, placing our roses in an "X" above her coffin, and muttered, "Forever may she reign."

The others stood and flung their roses towards her coffin, repeating the words three times.

All was silent as a guard stepped up and pressed a button on the side of the rollers. They moved, taking the coffin with them, and set it above an already dug-up grave. The coffin was lowered into the ground and a machine to the side repumped dirt into the grave, filling it up to the very top and then turned off by itself. I stared at the gravestone, reading the information they carved into it.

Erilia Kingston. Queen of the Intellects. Mother of Crown Heir Xavier Kingston and Royal Heir Damien Kingston. Wife of Evander Kingston. Born June 2nd, 146 PD. Died October 12th, 193 PD. Age 47.

There wasn't any information that truly described her, but it was certainly more than most other graves. I looked down at the covered ground. I knew my mother had a Box of Secrets that she wanted to keep with her—all assassins had one. But I wonder what she chose to hide in that coffin, what secrets were so deadly or precious that she wanted them in her clutches for all eternity. What about my mother would I never know?

Edsel cleared his throat and stepped off the podium, drawing all attention to himself.

"I know we grieve the loss of one who carried us through the years, but we cannot mourn. Not yet. Not until her assailants are brought down."

From the back, four guards dragged a boy in chains down the aisle. He was twisting his head back and forth, writhing in fear but unable to say anything from behind the gag in his mouth. He must've been my age, maybe younger.

"A conspiracy group who call themselves the Ravens attacked our Queens and threatened our children. They think they can take advantage of us when we least expect it. But no, we will not let it slide. All these years we've been lenient, we've been kind in our rule. Much kinder than those of the past and these fools took advantage of it. But no longer."

He pulled up the boy's sleeve and held it up for all to see. A Raven tattoo was indented in his forearm, the skin around it still somewhat bruised. It must've been fresh.

He was just a stupid teenage boy who must've joined after he heard what the Ravens did to my mother so that he could use their title to bully kids into giving him their lunch money. Serves him right.

"This is a Raven," Edsel announced and slit his throat with an unseen knife in one fell swoop. The boy stayed upright for a moment before he collapsed to the floor.

"Take his fate as a warning for all of you, those who defy the Crown. But beware, your fates will be much, much worse."

Edsel held out a hand and a servant placed a black rose in his palms. He dipped it in the boy's blood and held it up for all to see. "This is the final rose dedicated to Erilia Kingston. A black rose to symbolize death. But not just any death. No. From now on, her name will be the bringer of death as we hunt each and every one of the Ravens down in her honor. We will bring justice to those who wronged her."

He pinned the bloody rose to the front of his shirt. "All those of you who ally yourselves with this group, be cautious for we, the ones wearing these roses, are coming for you. Surrender and leave now, if you wish to live or die easy. Stay, and we will tear you open, piece by piece, and broadcast your screams throughout the city and across the nation."

"And," he added as an afterthought. "Don't take our threats lightly. The Assassins follow through on their promises."

With that he walked down the aisle and exited the vicinity, climbing up the steps. A few servants handed us a black rose each and we stepped off the podium, dipping the rose in the blood pooling across the ground. As we did, I looked over at Xavier who looked up as if he sensed my gaze.

I didn't need the Crown Fortier to remind me to want revenge. I already wanted it. I wanted to go after the Ravens and destroy them, tear them apart piece by piece for what they did to Knox. They murdered him in his own home, in front of his grandmother, tore his eyes open and pinned him against the ceiling like some rag doll.

I've wanted revenge for a long time, but my mother was the one holding me back. Now she was gone. I would pursue my revenge now, but in her name, and there was no one stopping me. And from the look on Xavier's face, I knew he felt the same.

The Kingston's have always controlled their anger and held back their cruelty in the face of manipulation. But not anymore.

They think the Fortiers are bad? We will be so, so much worse.

Standing, we climbed up the steps as the High Court dipped their own black roses. I was aware of the wary faces of the Streeters and the servants grouped around in the streets. For once they knew there was a storm coming, one brewed by the wrath of Assassins. This was a storm that would destroy their lives, and I was so looking forward to it.

After all, if Assassins find solace in hell, then I'll raise hellfire and watch the world burn in glee.