The journey

Esme

The carriage is quiet except for the rumble of the wheels on the packed ground outside. The curtains to the windows on each side have been drawn shut since I stepped inside almost three weeks ago. Rastin does not say much, but he does stare a lot. It was uncomfortable in the beginning, but I learned to ignore it during the ride. 

We set out each morning by sunrise, and I am up before that to do my shadow dances, the routine from my home still in my veins. I then find the maps of the palace father packed for me, study them for a while to find the best ways to get near the King, and then it’s repetition of poison, strikes, ways to infiltrate. The last done in the carriage as we set out. 

Around sunset we halt for the day at an Inn of some kind, Rastin gives me my tonic and I swallow it down without accident. I am not going to discuss this with him right now. I have a plan for this when I arrive at the palace. 

The Inns are not the best there is, but not the worst either. The floors have been clean, and I’ve had almost warm water to bathe in at some of them. All of the rooms have been similar; small, with a bed in the middle of the room, a closet at one of the walls, a small table and chair under a window. The sheets have been clean, and fire has been going in the hearth. I’ve also gotten meals that were actual meals on the road; cheese, eggs and bread in the morning with a glass of juice or water, cold sausage, fruit and bread rolls in the carriage for lunch and a warm meal varying from Inn to Inn in the evening. 

Rastin explained that my father paid for some of my accommodations, and the rest are being taken out of my pay when I start working - of course it is. 

“We need to talk after dinner, girl.” Rastin said a week ago as we were eating a meat and vegetable pie with mashed potatoes and gravy on the side, downstairs in the common dining room. I swallowed my food and nodded. He didn’t say anything else until after dinner, in private. 

“Your father gave me this, to give to you  when we neared the palace.” He said, giving me an envelope. I took it, keeping my hand from shaking and my face blank. 

“Thank you.” 

“You read it in your room.” He said, going to the door. “I will be the go-between with you and your father. You are going to be kitchen Omega, and where I can keep an eye on you. Do not disappoint us.” He opened the door, and I hurried outside. 

In my own room I opened the letter from my father. 

Esme. 

This is the last you will hear from me for some time, as letters take time to reach the palace through secure channels, but I want to make you understand the seriousness of your mission. The King needs to die, child. He needs to go. He is a weakness to this Kingdom, and we cannot have him ruling over us. I know you will do me proud, as I also know you understand the consequences of your failure if you disappoint me. 

Rastin is going to be there for support, help and to report back to me. Do not make friends of any kind. Keep to yourself, and get on with the mission. We need it done before the next Blue Moon in three months' time. This is very important, child. Three months. Make sure you have your plan ready to go. 

Your mother is counting on you. So am I. 

You father.

The carriage moves on in rumbling movements as my stomach lurch from thinking of the letter. The threats were very visible, and I have not had a decent night sleep since. He is going to kill my mother, and then me, if I fail at this mission. I close my eyes to shut out the world. Why on earth would he want the King dead to begin with? I have never asked, and I’m never going to. 

“The kitchen is a loud place, Esme.” Rastin’s voice interrupts my inner panic attack. “You will need to prepare yourself. We are going to arrive tomorrow.” I nod, still with my eyes closed. “And you will have to learn to answer with a ‘yes sir’ or ‘no sir’.” 

“Yes, sir.” I answer automatically. Rastin’s laughter is as cold as his eyes. 

“Good. There is hope for you afterall.”

That night we stopped at an Inn just off the great road. Inside the hostess noisily welcomes Rastin like an old friend and points him to a table where three other youths are waiting. He gestures for me to follow him. 

“Good evening everyone. I am Rastin, second in command in the kitchens at the palace. This is Esme.” He points at me. “And she is from far away.” His cold eyes sweep the table. “Names.” 

“Joren, sir. New cook.” Rastin nods at a dark blond youth with hazel eyes and lots of freckles. 

“Hannag, sir. Maid in training.” Rastin nods again, moving to the last girl. She has striking red hair, freckles enough to share, even with the dark blond boy, light green eyes and a smirk that’s going to get her into trouble even before we arrive at the palace. 

“Marla, kitchen maid.” She says, not adding the ‘sir’. Rastin makes a throat noise I recognize from my father, and I silently step away from him, just enough to not be in his way when he strikes. 

“You will have to learn manners, Marla, kitchen maid. It’s ‘sir’.” 

“But I’m no man. The correct term would be Miss as I am not married either. But nice try anyway.” The whole table chokes on air, as everyone, myself included, tries to hide their laughter in coughs. 

“That tongue, Miss Marla, is going to get you in trouble.” She shrugs good naturedly and I have to admit I admire her fire, even if I have to stay away from her because that tongue is going to be dangerous. “You are going to scrub pots and pans for your first assignment - a week of scrubbing. That should teach you to titulate your superior properly.” 

“Cool! Then I’ll learn how to do that right away. Thanks.” Rastin turns away, a vein adove his left eye throbbing dangerously. 

“You four will share a room tonight. Tomorrow we’ll arrive at the palace. Dinner will be served here shortly.” He gives me a cold, colder, look. “Do not under any circumstances fraternize just because you are sleeping boy and girls together.” 

He leaves the room, going up the stairs and disappearing out of sight. I sit down at the table when he is gone, finally relaxing a little. 

“So, Esme. Tell us about yourself.” Marla says, turning her bright eyes towards me. The entire table quiets down, looking at me. I freeze for a second, my training fighting to take over and make me disappear into the shadows as I was taught, but I settle myself. 

“Not much to say. From a small village far away.” I mumble, trying to get them to look anywhere but at me. 

“Come on. There must be something else to you.” Marla insists, but I shake my head, wishing she would stop asking me questions. 

I don’t get the chance to be asked any more questions as the waitress walks over with food, and the others start talking about the work in the palace and the chance to glint the King or other nobles. I do feel Marla’s eyes on me during the meal, but I shrug it off.

The next morning we set out again, the carriage filled with all of us. Marla and the others are talking lively amongst themselves, their eyes bright and eagerly taking in the lands. We rumble for a couple of hours before the scenery drastically changes, and we drive through the gates to the Capital of Moonspire. 

Endless landscape is exchanged with busy streets where people idle by doing their day to day work. We scramble past a market place where buyers and sellers yell on top of each other to get the best bargain. 

Then the carriage halts again, and Rastin opens the door. 

“This is us. We need to walk from here.” He says, going out and helping the driver with our things. 

He leads us over a smaller bridge to the side of the palace walls, nodding to the two guards and telling them our names. They look at us, taking us in, and everything screams in me to hide my face so they don’t know me, but I stand tall with the rest instead. As is expected. A good assassin is the one you see but don’t remember. I hope they don’t remember me. 

This is it. The mission has begun. I better not fail. For my mother, and for myself.