123. Fight II

My fingers shake and I hide them behind my back as I round the corner. Slowly, I approach, the large oak door standing ominously in the distance. I wipe the sweat from my wrist against my light skirts and grip tightly as my chest thumps. Once. Twice. The closer I draw, the heavier the dagger under my skirt weighs. The maids behind me chatter, but I barely hear the words they say. I try to hide it behind a show of boredom but the fear creeps up my spine and it is all I can do to keep going.

It takes an eternity, but I reach the door eventually.

“He’s not in,” the guard tells me when I start to open the door. There usually aren’t any, but after this morning, I understand why he has his chambers guarded. My fingers still by the door. Not in? This is when we have dinner. Every night. I didn’t factor his possible absence into my plans. Gods above. “Where is he?”

“Throne room. The reports from the prisoners came back. He’s off attending to it and said to tell you to wait for him.”

Oh no.