The Assassin’s Target

Ariana clutched the wagon’s wood tightly, her face scrunched up like a sour lemon.

For a brief moment, she entertained running her mouth. Letting out all the words she had been holding in her chest against him.

Worse, the beguiling curl on Kaleb was practically begging her to do precisely that.

This demented bastard! He’s probably waiting for me to slip up!

Clara was anxious. As she bit her nails, her eyes darted between Ariana and Kaleb.

“What? You can’t talk anymore?”

Ariana took deep breaths. As calm as possible, she answered through gritted teeth. “No, Captain. It’s all a figment of your imagination. I’m clearly not hiding anything.”

"Are you sure?" Kaleb pressed. “Because your face looks like you’re about to do something very difficult.”

Would you give it up already?

“I already told you,” she growled. “It’s nothing. Nothing is wrong, okay?”

Kaleb smirked. "Alright, if you say so," he said, flipping the reins and going back to the front of the march.

Bastard.

“Is there something going on between you two?” Clara asked. The two maids in the wagon leant forward, their expressions eager for gossip. Ariana ignored them, face buried in her drawn-up legs.

By evening, the royal party reached its destination. The servants spread out quickly. They hammered tent stakes, hauled water, and unloaded wagons as the last light faded from the sky.

The royal tent rose a short distance away, ringed by the Imperial Guards. Ariana kept finding herself staring at it. She was supposed to be the one inside, with others waiting on her hand and foot.

Clara came to stand beside her. "You're staring again," she whispered.

“No, I wasn't.”

"Yes, you were."

Ariana huffed. "Let's just finish our work." She strode toward the cooking tent, Clara following her with a worried frown.

She strode toward the cooking tent, Clara following with a worried frown. Halfway there, a boy shoved a sack of flour into Ariana's arms. It was twice as heavy as it looked, and she staggered under its weight. Quickly, Clara caught the other end, and together they carried it inside.

The tent was hot and loud, thick smoke and the smell of roasting meat filled the air. Her stomach let out a growl before she could stop it.

The Head Cook, a scowling, broad woman with a voice like a drum, fixed her eyes on them.

"Elena Moss. Clara Bank. You’re both late."

"We were unloading the wagons, Cook," Clara answered smoothly.

"Hmph, well, you’d better work faster now." She jabbed a spoon toward a table heaped with onions. "Chop them fine and there had better be no waste."

“Yes, Cook.”

Ariana approached the table as though it’d bite her. Hesitant, she took up a knife and held it like a sword. She had no idea how to start.

“You’re holding it wrong.” Clara subtly tilted Ariana's wrist until Ariana's grip looked right. The first cut was clumsy and chunky.

Clara silently redid the cuts. By the fifth onion, tears streamed down Ariana’s face.

"Crying already?" The cook appeared with a snap.

"The smoke, Cook, it’s the smoke," Ariana said hoarsely.

She gave a noncommittal hum and left.

Ariana felt depressed. In the palace, onions arrived as something soft and golden in a sauce. She never asked how they made them.

"Thinner," Clara murmured. "Thin as a coin." Ariana eagerly copied her. Gradually, her hands stopped shaking.

Later that night, tired but full, Ariana lay awake in the servants' tent. The camp was quiet, save for the muffled tread of guards patrolling outside.

Tomorrow, the Royal Hunt will begin. Yet she has no idea what to do with the task assigned to her or even whether she’d have the mind to do it. They are, in a way, asking her to kill herself, which she would never consider.

No. She won’t do it, Ariana firmly decided. What if, at the end of everything, she’d need the Princess’s body to get her identity back? No, she won’t do it.

But how will she avoid the consequences of not killing the Princess?

The thought lingered until she drifted into a fitful sleep.

The Royal Hunt began at dawn. Horns echoed across the camp. Hounds tugged at their leashes. The King, Prince Lucien, Captain Kaleb and a few nobles went into the northern forest. Guards on horseback followed them closely. Princess Ariana stayed behind, heavily guarded.

Ariana watched the riders until the trees swallowed the last of them. Then the Head Cook's voice rose over the quiet.

"Don't stand there gawking! The hunters will return hungry, and there's bread to bake."

She spent her day taking orders and working until every bone in her body hurt.

Yet her thoughts were with her father. Although she knew he was an avid hunter, she couldn’t help feeling anxious whenever he went on the Hunt.

Hours later, the hunting horns sounded through the trees. Servants hurried to lay out roasted meat and spiced wine.

Ariana stood at the clearing's edge, holding a heavy tray of cups. She listened as the hounds bayed in the distance. Their calls grew louder with each breath.

The riders emerged from the forest, mud-splashed and flushed with triumph. Behind them, four guards brought in the hunt’s prizes.

Two deer and two foxes were among the prizes. But the biggest catch was a moose of unbelievable size, carried by four huntsmen on two poles. Its antlers were so big that they were dragging furrows in the dirt.

Ariana slouched in relief as she saw her smiling father. Thank goodness he’s alright.

"That moose is by far the largest I've seen in twenty years, Sire!" a thin nobleman with a receding hairline cried. "Truly, Your Majesty's aim is still as sharp as ever."

King Myde laughed, pleased, as he dismounted. “Oh, you flatter me, Lord Pier.”

“No, it’s the truth, Sire. Isn’t that right, Lord Felix?”

A short, dark-haired man with a permanent frown on his face reluctantly answered. “Exceptional. But I must ask, Sire: I haven’t caught a glimpse of Lord Callahan. Why isn’t he present on this year’s hunting trip?”

A shadow fell over King Myde’s smile. “My brother is presently ill, Lord Felix. That’s why he’s not here.”

“Of course, Sire. Pardon my silly intrusion.”

“I knew you’d do wonderfully, Father.” The Princess stepped forward, beaming proudly. King Myde rested a hand on her head, gently rubbing. Just as he used to do to her.

Ariana’s chest tightened. He doesn’t know her anymore. He sees her as nothing but a stranger.

Tears blurred her vision and she hastened to tilt her head up, trying not to let anyone see her in tears. That was when she saw it.

A masked figure, concealed and well camouflaged, was at the top of the tall tree across the camp. A wooden crossbow with an arrow aimed right at her.

Terror liquefied Ariana on the spot. The figure placed his index finger in front of his face as a sign for her to keep quiet. Then the crossbow shifted from her to…the Princess?!

Worst of all, nobody else noticed the assassin. No time to think it through.

She dropped the tray and shrilled, pointing at the tree. “There’s an assassin. Look out!” She bolted towards the Princess.

Everyone froze for the briefest second.

Then true to his role as captain, Kaleb snapped into action. “Protect the King!”

He was a bit far off, with his second in command and two guards. The guards around the king kept him safe, while frightened royals huddled close.

Everything slowed as the arrow flew through the air, aimed at the scared and unaware Princess.

However, Ariana hit the Princess at full speed and both of them went down hard in the dirt. The arrow hissed over them and buried itself in a tree in the forest. 

For one heartbeat, nothing moved. Ariana remained staring at the eyes that she had grown up calling hers. Then leathered hands yanked her off the shocked Princess.

A hand clamped around her neck, jerking her head up to face an enraged Kaleb. “You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?” he snarled close to her face.

Ariana tried to pry his hand off as she opened her mouth to speak, but the King's voice cut her off.

"Enough, Kaleb." His eyes darted from the buried arrow to Ariana. Something unreadable crossed his expression before an angry mask fell into place. "Go find that bastard archer who dares try to harm my daughter."

“You won’t get away this time,” Kaleb harshly whispered before pushing her toward a guard. “Watch her like your life depends on it. She mustn’t escape.” Pointing to some guards, he ordered, “Search the perimeter! Nobody leaves this forest!" 

Some nobles hurried into their tents. Others, appearing faint, pulled their servants close to them.

Ariana observed as Lucien gently held the Princess to his chest. Meanwhile, the King hurried over to pull her into a warm embrace. 

No one paid attention to Ariana. 

Ariana’s mind was buzzing with thoughts. She had received a command to kill the princess, right?

So why did someone else try to do it for her? The way the archer acted makes it clear they wanted her to notice.

So, was that a second assassin? Or a way to make sure I'd be standing nearby when it happened?

—————

At the foot of the tall tree, Kaleb crouched in the damp soil. Fresh scuffs marked the bark, showing where someone had hurried down. A trail of broken twigs led deeper into the forest.

"Captain!" a guard called from the ridge.

Kaleb found him standing over a low branch. A scrap of ragged brown wool hung from the bark, its edge frayed and still damp from the morning dew. Kaleb pulled it free and rubbed it between his fingers.

Coarse. Patched once, badly, with a thread of faded blue.

He remembered where he saw it.

Yesterday morning, in one of the wagons, a maid hugged the same cloak tightly around her shoulders.

She glared at him, as if she wanted to tear him apart. The hem was stitched with that same faded thread.

"Captain?" the guard asked. "Do we know whose it is?"

The assassin had worn a mask and climbed like a trained scout. Such a man would not leave a scrap of servant's wool on the one branch where anyone could have found it.

Unless someone did it deliberately.

Kaleb looked back toward the camp, where one maid sat under guard, and slid the cloth into his glove.

"Not yet," he muttered.