Chapter 1
The wooden coach squeaked under Elizabeth’s unnatural weight as she moved to disembark. She was tougher than others, immune to pain… To make a mark on her seemingly tender skin would all but sever a limb on anyone else, and her body healed itself at astonishing rates.
Her ability wasn’t without its disadvantages. It also made her heavier than the average person, denser.
As her velvet slippers sunk into the dirt, the coach sprung upright with a deafening screech. The tingle of annoyance scratched at her mind regarding the condition the Guild had her travelling in, but she held her head high as any respectable Lady would.
She held the envelope in her hands until her knuckles turned white, the seal of the Blackwood Guild already broken. It’s not that she was nervous to be standing in front of the palace gates, but rather, suspicious. She was one to plan ahead, carefully putting things in place for a swift, successful mission, but the sudden change in times encrypted in the letter she received had her scrambling to meet the coach they sent for her.
Servants bustled about the courtyard, rushing to complete the last minute preparations for the midsummer gala and prepare the rooms for the nobles arriving to stay for the season.
As Elizabeth strolled towards the iron gates, she concentrated on keeping her facial expression soft. It was a difficult task. Her green eyes were always sharp and aware, her head high, constantly scanning for threats or opportunities, and her steps tended to be heavy and purposeful.
She was thankful her hair was braided into a bun, free from her fair cordate face. With skin as tough as leather and the weight of a cathedral, a stark contrast from the dainty nobles in silk, she was not the ideal candidate for such a stealthy mission. However, with it being the last phase, they needed someone who could withstand torture and keep their secrets should she be caught. She smiled to herself, which of course, she won’t be.
A group of nobles were speaking to the guard and she joined behind them, shifting her center of gravity to the balls of her feet. It was a grueling Guild technique that turned her natural, hammer-like stride into a series of controlled, silent falls. To anyone else, she walked elegantly. To her own muscles, it felt like holding back an avalanche.
“Papers?” the guard grunted, stepping into her path.
She fished the forged invite from the Guild and handed it to him. “I am expected.” She kept her voice cool with a melodic chime to it. She didn’t wait for his permission, stepping around him with the arrogance of any highborne noble.
The guard frowned at the parchment. “Wait.”
Elizabeth froze, turning only slightly. “I am told the King hates a late guest even more than an uninvited one.” She spat, leaving the guard with no choice but to accept the invite was real.
As soon as she stepped into the foyer of the palace, she tensed. The sight of the polished marble entwined with creeping vines was a clear sign that a Hive-sire resided here. Everyone knew the Queen herself nurtured and controlled bees. The strength of such a rare ability was known internationally. She filled her lungs with a deep breath of air, a move necessary to gain her bearings.
No, it wasn’t that that bothered her.
Something was wrong. The air was stained with burnt wood and foliage, a fairly regular smell during such a drought as this one that plagued the Spanish court. She cast a trained eye around the palace, sure enough nobles and the like were still slowly arriving, but the atmosphere lacked that supreme urgency of an impending party.
The Midsummer Gala was second grandest to the Ability Showcase of the royal children; that would not be happening for at least a few months again if she remembered the youngest children’s ages correctly. Even then, the lack of incoming parties was concerning and only added to her growing suspicion.
Her skin crawled with realization. She inspected the letter again, looking for any signs of forgery, while her whole body stiffened It was a risk to her entire cover to be there without the shield of a crowd and the chaos of a party.
This was a trap.
She touched the wall, pretending to admire the vines. Her eyes drooped as her heartbeat engulfed all her senses. She felt herself mold around the rhythm, reaching outwards from her body, until she was aware of every heartbeat within the walls.
There were the expected rested rates of the upper classes, all slightly different to mark their unique abilities. There was also the flat, quick paced rhythm of the servants’ hearts, all following the same pattern of persons without abilities. After some searching, she pinpointed the one she needed. The man sent for the previous phase of the mission. His heart didn’t beat, but fluttered, as though it was a hummingbird in the wind.
An Anemari. One with the wind.
The perfect spy to find the location of the documents needed to be retrieved.
Before pulling her hand back, there was a heartbeat that was far too slow to be natural for any human, even the noble supernatural being. It was a slow, deep hum that vibrated through her veins. She sucked in a sharp breath and hurried along to where she sensed the Anemari.
The man’s face paled at the sight of her before her eyes located him amongst the buzzing crowd of people in the east Chocolate Gallery. He had been casually leaning against the wall, speaking to a noble who had his head back in roaring laughter, both dressed in fine black wear.
Bittersweet cocoa and melted sugar assaulted her nose and she all but gagged at the smell. Nobles. Such new and exotic tastes they had.
The Anemari excused himself from the conversation and floated towards her, guiding her with a gentle palm against the small of her back towards the balcony.
“You were supposed to arrive after I left,” he snapped, though his demeanor stayed casual. He leaned closer, careful to seem flirty but not too advantageous. “And must you move with the grace of a lawn bowl? I felt you from a mile away. The bees might sense your disruption in the air as have I.”
Her laugh felt forced but drifted through the room, as melodious as she was trained to make it. Of course an Anemari would find issue in her walk. They moved like feathers in the wind from the moment they learnt to walk. They would never understand someone with her ability naturally lacking grace.
“I simply followed instructions, this is on the Guild.” She lied. Someone knew of her mission and foiled it before it started. She would have to find that person, and quickly.
The Anemari smiled, a game of pretend courtship that many others turned a blind eye to, lost in their own flirtatious advantages and sweet treats and wine. “This is a disaster! You must leave quickly and come back tomorrow.”
Elizabeth dipped her head in acknowledgment, noticing a rather ugly doll tied by its hair on the railing. She answered to no one but the heads of the Blackwood Guild, but he had a valid point. She picked at the knot of the doll’s hair and wrinkled her nose. The children here clearly needed better reins. The motion of pulling the strands apart to loosen the hair’s grip on the steel was calming. She had to adjust her plans, and quickly.
There was an old barn a mile back that was burnt and dilapidated, surely abandoned. The only matter of concern would be keeping her only dress from smudging so she could come back the next day looking clean and crisp for the gala.
Her thoughts were racing a million miles an hour as she continued to pick at the hair. She did not care that the Anemari watched disapprovingly.
“Your Grace, I do hope you are enjoying your time at court,” a voice bellowed beside her. She pulled the last hair strand apart in surprise. Her fingers closed around the doll’s waist, and while the sudden save was jarring for her heavy arm, the doll remained unbroken in her stone-like grip.
The Spanish king was standing right next to her, an aged bald headed man flanking his side. He tilted his head in respect to her associate masquerading as the Duke of Bedford while the real Duke enjoyed his travels to the new world.
She sucked in a breath, clutching the doll to her overly tightened corseted waist as she dropped in a curtsy before him, pausing only to glance up into his eyes that were a storm of grey as he stared down at her.
A flash of confusion crossed the king’s face. He wore his hair to his shoulders, an earthy brown similar to her own. It was rather strange to see a royal who did not keep his hair cropped short. His muscles rippled with alertness. Only royals and nobles were known to have abilities in the everyday world, with the world of trained spies and assassins being a hidden one. Elizabeth tried to recover from tensing in response with a trained graceful sigh as she rose to look up at him.
Her smile was bright and cold, just like the daggers hidden under her gown. The king was known for his enhanced strength. As resistant as her body was to damage, she knew it would be a terrible recovery if he decided to snap her in half right there and then, even with her quickened healing.
“Ah the nanny! I hope your trip from England was not too difficult,” The bald man blurted, gesturing to the doll in her hand. Even the Anemari tipped his head in question.
Elizabeth dipped her head to the man, slipping right into the role. “A minor discomfort, Your Grace. I have worn my best dress but it seems the seamstresses of England value vanity far more than they do the ability to breathe,” she laughed. She was careful to slouch only slightly, fully embodying a lower noble, much different from the Lady she was impersonating to get through the gates.
She took a moment to scan the bald man’s face. There was something about him that was familiar. Still, she had to find a moment alone with him in the near future to find out more.
His brown eyes were so dark, it was almost black and haunting, and although his skin had a tan to it, like he spent a lot of time in the sun, he stood there completely drained of colour.
“My apologies,” the king said. “May I introduce Sir Valentine, Master of Abilities.”
She threw her senses towards Valentine who’s heart was hammering away in his chest.
The King gestured to the doll in her hand. “I see you have found Anabelle’s doll. Poor thing cried all night for her.”
“Su Majestad.” She dropped into another curtsey, addressing the king directly.
“Please, I know our native tongue is difficult for you, and with the varying nations represented here for the season, I must insist we speak one common language,” he spoke gently.
The Anemari cleared his throat. “Pardon me, I do not want to be a distraction to you and the nanny.”
“Why yes,” she said. Me. The nanny…
“If you please, Your Majesty, I would like to head to my room to wash the dust from my journey before I meet… the children,” Elizabeth said smoothly. The pearls of her teeth shone with intent as she spoke.
“Of course, I’ll get someone to show you to your room,” the king beamed. Something about the way his shoulders relaxed said more words than his mouth could ever say. This nanny job was not a regular nanny job. “Lord Bedford, lovely to finally meet in person,” the king tilted his head slightly towards the Anemari before making a poised exit, the bald man following closely on his heels.
“I will update the Guild on your new cover,” the Anemari sneered.
Elizabeth nodded, but her mind was far. “That man… Do you know him?” She asked. There was something about him that was like an itch that she could not reach to satisfy.
“Does it matter?” The Anemari growled. “We have our own missions. Do not make a mess of yours.”
Her hand still clutched the doll while the other touched the cold metal of the railing, she sighed, seeking out the very different heartbeats around the palace. There was one that piqued her interest at the foyer. Their heart was racing with nervous energy. A new job perhaps?
Before she could pull her senses back from the palace’s heart, she hit a block. That one heart, beating even slower than before. Her eyes flung open to the doorway.
A man towered there, dressed in all black with a red ‘Cross of the Order of Santiago’ embroidered on his chest and a sword gracing his left hip. Their eyes locked. An ocean of blue to her green shores. His lip tugged at a smirk. A challenge.
Elizabeth moved towards the door before the Anemari’s voice cut through her focus. “Where are you going?” He asked, out of sheer curiosity.
“I have a nanny to dispose of,” she said plainly.
Her shoulder brushed against the guard’s arm on her way out and a shockwave of heat exploded through her density. Her heavy, unfeeling skin prickled for the first time in years.
Whatever ability he had, he was purposefully trying to hide it, and he was good at it. Elizabeth’s stomach clenched. Whatever organization he was from, it was not the Blackwood Guild.
