THE COLOR OF A TARGET

Elara Vance

The night before the banquet, I didn’t sleep. I sat by the window, watching the moon crawl across the sky, and thought about jasmine. In my first life, Caspian had told me it was the scent of a queen. In this life, the Archivist told me it was the scent of my grave.

I wouldn't let him fill my lungs with flowers.

When morning came, the household was a hive of frantic energy. Servants sprinted through the halls with pressed linens and silver platters. Lady Beatrice was in her element, screaming orders at the chefs and the decorators. But I stayed in my room, staring at the dress Martha had laid out on the bed.

It was the pale pink silk Beatrice had ordered. It was soft, frilly, and made me look like a piece of candy. It was the dress of a girl who had no opinions and no power.

"Martha," I said, my voice steady. "Bring me the trunk from the back of the cedar closet. The one that belonged to my mother."

Martha gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "But, My Lady! Lady Beatrice said you must wear the pink! She said it was a command!"

"Lady Beatrice is not the master of my wardrobe," I said, turning to look at her. The red mark behind my ear gave a sharp, warm pulse. "The Duke of Thorne told me that if I am to be a target, I should look like one. And I intend to follow his advice."

When Martha opened the trunk, the scent of dried lavender and old magic filled the room. At the very bottom lay a gown of heavy, blood-red velvet. It had a high collar, sleeves that fit like a second skin, and a bodice embroidered with gold thread in the shape of thorns. It was a dress for a woman who intended to draw blood.

By the time the sun began to set, I was ready.

I looked at my reflection. My hair was pulled back into a severe, elegant crown of braids, exposing the red mark behind my ear. It looked like a ruby set into my skin. The red velvet of the dress made my skin look like ivory and my eyes like flint.

"My Lady," Martha whispered, her voice trembling. "You look... terrifyingly beautiful."

"Good," I said. "Fear is a much better shield than lace."

I stepped out of my room and began the long walk to the Great Hall. As I reached the top of the grand staircase, the music from the ballroom drifted up—the light, airy sounds of a flute and a harpsichord.

I looked down and saw them.

The hall was filled with the nobility of the surrounding lands. At the center of the room stood Caspian. He was surrounded by a group of younger lords and ladies, laughing and radiating charm. He looked like the sun, and everyone else was just a shadow.

To his right stood Lyra, wearing the sky-blue dress Beatrice had promised. She looked pretty, but next to Caspian’s golden glow, she looked like a common maid. She was clinging to his arm, her eyes wide and adoring.

I felt a surge of nausea. In my past life, I had stood exactly where she was. I had been the one looking at him with that pathetic, blind worship.

Then, I felt another gaze.

Across the room, standing near the massive stone fireplace, was Kaelen. He was dressed in black formal armor, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He wasn't talking to anyone. He was just watching the door.

When I stepped onto the first stair, the music didn't stop, but the conversations did. One by one, heads turned. The "quiet, boring Elara" was gone. In her place was a vision in blood-red and gold.

I descended the stairs slowly; my eyes locked on Caspian. I saw his smile fade. I saw the confusion in his eyes, followed quickly by a spark of predatory interest. He liked what he saw. He liked the challenge.

"Elara?" My father hurried toward me, his face turning a mottled purple. "What is this? What are you wearing? Where is the pink silk?"

"It didn't fit, Father," I said loudly enough for the nearby guests to hear. "I thought it was better to honor my mother's memory on such a grand night. I'm sure Lord Caspian, being a man of such high sentiment, understands the importance of family legacy."

Caspian stepped forward, smoothly detaching himself from Lyra’s grip. He took my hand and bowed low, his lips brushing against my knuckles. His skin was warm, and it made my stomach turn.

"Lady Elara," he purred, looking up at me through his lashes. "You are a revelation. Red is... a bold choice for a debutante. It speaks of a fire I didn't know you possessed."

"There is a lot you don't know about me, Lord Caspian," I said, pulling my hand back. "But you will learn. In time."

I glanced toward the fireplace. Kaelen was watching us, his icy blue eyes narrowed. He didn't look happy, but he looked satisfied. I had worn the red.

But then, the King’s Envoy was announced.

Lord Valerius, a man with a sharp nose and a sharper reputation for sniffing out scandals, entered the room. He was the man I had to impress and the man Caspian had to fail in front of.

The task was clear: Humiliate him.

The dinner began, and I was seated between Caspian and a minor lord. Lyra sat across from us, her eyes burning holes into my face. Every time Caspian leaned in to whisper a compliment to me, Lyra’s fork clattered against her plate.

"I hear you have been quite the hero, Caspian," Lord Valerius said from the head of the table. "The King is most impressed with your recent negotiations with the silk merchants. He says you have a 'silver tongue' that can settle any debt."

Caspian beamed, taking a sip of his wine. "I only do my duty for the crown, My Lord. Though, I must admit, the merchants were... difficult."

This was it. The moment I remembered from my past life. Caspian hadn't settled the debt with "negotiations." He had bribed the merchants with a shipment of grain that was supposed to go to the starving villages in the North—Kaelen’s land. In my first life, I had helped him hide the paperwork.

Not tonight.

"A silver tongue is a wonderful thing," I said, my voice cutting through the chatter. "But I wondered, Lord Caspian... how did you manage to convince them so quickly? I heard a strange rumor that the merchants suddenly came into possession of a massive amount of Northern grain. Quite a coincidence, isn't it? Especially since the Duke’s people are currently facing a winter shortage."

The table went silent.

Kaelen’s hand stopped halfway to his mouth. He turned his head slowly to look at Caspian. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

Caspian’s face didn't change, but I saw a vein pulse in his neck. "Elara, dear, you shouldn't listen to servants' gossip. Politics is a complicated business."

"Is it gossip?" I reached into the hidden pocket of my dress. I pulled out a small, crumpled piece of parchment—a ledger page I had stolen from my father’s study earlier that afternoon. It was a record of the transport ships Caspian had borrowed from our estate.

"Then perhaps you can explain why our family ships were seen unloading 'Northern Wheat' at the silk docks two weeks ago?" I asked, sliding the paper toward Lord Valerius. "Under your personal seal?"

Lord Valerius put on his spectacles, his expression turning grave.

Caspian’s "perfect" face began to crack. He looked at the paper, then at me. For a second, the mask slipped entirely. His eyes were full of a cold, murderous fury that made my skin crawl.

"I... there must be some mistake," Caspian stammered, his silver tongue finally failing him. "The seals must have been forged. I would never—"

"A mistake?" Kaelen’s voice was like a landslide. He stood up, his shadow stretching across the table until it touched Caspian. "My people are eating bark and boiled leather, Montfort. And you are trading their lives for silk?"

"Kaelen, wait—" Caspian started, but it was too late.

The King’s Envoy stood up, his face full of disgust. "This is a serious accusation, Lord Caspian. I shall have to take this ledger to the King. Your 'negotiations' will be under heavy scrutiny."

Caspian looked around the room. The nobility was whispering. The "Golden Boy" was suddenly covered in mud. He looked like a fool, a thief, and a traitor all at once.

He turned to me, his voice a low, jagged hiss. "You... you little viper. You have no idea what you’ve done."

Suddenly, the air in my lungs vanished.

The red mark behind my ear burned white-hot. I tried to inhale, but it felt like my chest was filled with thorns. The world began to spin.

“The task is not yet complete, Little Crow...” The Archivist’s voice echoed in my drowning mind. “The humiliation must be total. He is still standing.”

I gasped, clutching the table. I looked at Kaelen, pleading with my eyes.

Kaelen didn't hesitate. He didn't ask questions. He walked around the table, grabbed Caspian by the throat, and slammed him against the stone wall of the Great Hall.

The sound of the impact echoed like a bone breaking.

"If I find out a single grain of my people's food was on those ships," Kaelen growled into Caspian’s face, "I won't wait for the King's trial. I will cut your heart out and feed it to my hounds."

He threw Caspian to the floor. The "Golden Knight" landed in a heap, his wine spilling over his expensive tunic, looking pathetic and broken.

My lungs suddenly opened. I took a deep, gasping breath of air.

Task Three: Complete.

The room was in chaos. Beatrice was fainting, my father was shouting, and Lyra was crying. But amidst the noise, Kaelen walked over to me.

He looked at my red dress, then at my pale face.

"You're a dangerous woman, Elara Vance," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"I told you," I whispered, leaning against him for support. "I'm a target."

He didn't pull away. But as he looked at me, I saw something in his eyes that I hadn't seen before. It wasn't just curiosity anymore. It was hunger.

And then, I saw Caspian. He was being helped up by a servant, but his eyes were fixed on me. He didn't look like a fool anymore. He looked like a man who was ready to burn the whole world down just to see me die.