Blair stood on the outside of the balcony railing, balanced precariously, as if she might plummet at any moment.
She looked genuinely flustered, clearly not expecting Lina to burst into the room.
In that heartbeat of hesitation, Lina lunged, grabbing Blair’s waist with desperate, white-knuckled force.
“No! You can’t!”
“Lina, wait! It’s a misunderstanding. Just let go for a second…”
“No! I won’t! If Your Highness says you’re going to die, then I’ll die with you!”
“That’s not it…”
“I don’t care! I won’t listen to anything until you step back to this side! Please, come inside!”
Lina began to wail, clinging to Blair like a lifeline. She hauled backward with everything she had, dragging Blair in as if landing a heavy catch.
“Where do you think you’re going, leaving me behind? Absolutely not! If you want to think such terrible thoughts, kill me first!”
“I told you, it’s not like that. It’s only the second floor, what’s the…”
But to Lina, sniffling through tears and snot, the explanation didn’t register. Blair had no choice but to stay pinned in her arms and endure the outburst.
Only after a long while did Lina finally steady her breathing.
“But why… why were you even thinking of such a thing?”
Her voice was nasal, thick with the remnants of her sobbing.
Blair scratched her cheek, looking sheepish. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I was just trying to leave because there was somewhere I needed to go, in secret.”
Only then did Lina notice the cloth knotted to the railing—a makeshift rope fashioned from the room’s blankets.
Lina was aghast. “Oh, no. How reckless! What if you’d fallen and gotten hurt?”
“It’s only the second floor. There are bushes at the bottom, too.”
Blair looked confident, as if she had devised a meticulous plan, but Lina—who had watched over her for so long—knew better. Her lovely Imperial Princess, despite her gentle appearance, occasionally pulled off breathtakingly reckless stunts.
Lina sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead, before a sudden realization made her stiffen. “Anyway, where on earth are you trying to go in the middle of the night?”
Blair didn’t answer. She only smiled, a faint, dazzlingly beautiful expression that felt, to Lina, somewhat ominous.
* * *
“This is…”
Lina’s eyes widened as she peered out the carriage window.
They had arrived at the guild district, buried deep within the back alleys of the Capital.
Blair pulled her hood up and opened the carriage door. “I’ll be back soon.”
“If you aren’t out in thirty minutes, I’m coming in after you. I mean it!”
Blair had been adamant throughout the ride that Lina could not enter the guild, and despite the threat, Lina backed down with a reluctant nod.
Blair stood before the guild building: Libellus. Among the myriad of organizations in the capital, it was the intelligence guild that stood peerless.
She took a deep breath and stepped inside.
The interior resembled an ordinary, rowdy tavern. But as Blair entered, the boisterous noise died down instantly, as if cold water had been poured over a fire.
Every eye scanned the uninvited guest.
Though her face was cloaked in shadow, the straight nose and small, pale lips visible beneath the hood marked her as a rare beauty.
A burly man who had been inspecting her slammed his beer mug down with a dull thud. “Hey, who invited their lover to the guild? Fess up.”
“Ah, I think that’s my lover.”
“What are you talking about? Looks like my wife to me.”
The men began to circle, each claiming her as his own. Their leering laughter grated against Blair’s nerves. Raised as an Imperial Princess, she had never before encountered such raw, base malice.
But she hadn’t come here to be intimidated.
Blair ignored them, heading straight for the bar at the center of the hall.
The drunken men, unwilling to let their entertainment slip away, blocked her path.
“Hey, pretty lady. What brings you here?”
“I have come to meet the Master of this place.”
“Our Master is busy and doesn’t take small-fry jobs. Why don’t you talk to us instead? We’ll take care of it for cheap and do a sure job.”
“Come on, have a drink and tell us your troubles.”
A man, too drunk to stand straight, slung an arm over her shoulder and pressed his body against her. The smell of stale ale and his intrusive warmth made her skin crawl.
Blair calmly grabbed his arm and wrenched it off. She pressed a single ring into his palm and spoke, her voice ice-cold.
“Bring me the Master.”
“Ha!” The man, his face flushed and bloated, scoffed in disbelief. He didn’t take kindly to being treated like a servant, nor to the jewelry pressed into his hand. “Who do you think I am? A stray dog you can pay to wag its tail?”
He raised his voice, spitting as he spoke, his massive frame looming over her.
Blair didn’t back down. She couldn’t. Her future with Aziel depended on this request.
She clenched her hands to hide their trembling, meeting the man’s eyes. “You’ve worked in this field long enough to know how to behave. It is foolish to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs.”
The man flinched, meeting her gaze from beneath her hood. He felt a strange, irresistible pressure radiating from this frail woman.
The surrounding members, noticing the shift in atmosphere, began to murmur. They didn’t know who she was, but the sheer confidence in her posture marked her as a high-stakes client they dared not ignore.
One of the men scurried upstairs, returning moments later with another figure in tow.
“Did the lady ask to see me?”
Blair looked at the newcomer once and shook her head. “No. I want to speak with the Master.”
“I am the Master of Libellus.”
“Is it a rule of Libellus to deceive clients in this manner?”
Blair’s gaze shifted to the bartender, who was methodically cleaning a glass behind the counter. He was a handsome man with a kind, soft impression, brown wavy hair, and sharp green eyes.
“I seek to make a request to the Guild Master.”
The man behind the glasses paused, his eyes narrowing, before he offered a wry smile. “May I ask how you knew?”
“When I asked for the Master, everyone else glanced at you for cues. You, however, simply listened.”
“You have a keen eye.”
He smiled broadly at Blair before glancing at his subordinates. They quickly looked away, dodging his gaze. He set the glass down and stepped from behind the bar.
“Let’s move to a different room.”
Blair followed him to a private chamber on the second floor. Once the door clicked shut, the man bowed politely.
“I shall introduce myself formally, Your Grace the Duchess. My name is Mihail Kiness.”
Blair flinched. He knew her true identity, which she hadn’t uttered a word about. Then again, it would have been more suspicious if the head of an intelligence guild didn’t recognize an Imperial Princess.
“…That situation just now. You were testing me.”
“I wanted to confirm how desperate Your Grace was. Those who risk danger to seek me out pay a price commensurate with their desperation. I apologize if I offended you.”
“It is fine. I assume that means you are confident you can handle the work cleanly.”
Despite Mihail’s rudeness in testing a Duchess, Blair remained composed. Her voice carried the natural, effortless authority of someone accustomed to command.
‘So she is a true Imperial Princess after all,’ Mihail thought, a flicker of genuine interest in his eyes.
“Libellus will surely live up to that trust,” he replied. “Now, please tell me the details of the request. The more specific you are, the better I can assist you.”
A light kindled in Blair’s purple eyes.
“I have three requests.”
She held up three fingers—a habit from when she spoke with Aziel. Mihail, unaware of the connection, found the gesture strangely endearing.
“Three things? Libellus is about to become quite wealthy.”
“First, find me a small villa near Argenta, in the Clarnia Kingdom. And a new identity to live under, discarding this name.”
She couldn’t wander far while pregnant, so she needed a base in Argenta until she could bring Aziel to her.
Mihail was inwardly surprised. An Imperial Princess planning to discard her name—to sever herself from the Duchy entirely. He was curious, but he knew better than to pry.
“The second request: I need a scandal, involving me and four or five men. I prefer those who are trustworthy enough to keep it strictly confidential.”
“In that case, it would be best if I acted as one of them to monitor progress. Would that be acceptable?”
“If you are comfortable with that.” Blair nodded. If the Guild Master himself was involved, the security was guaranteed.
Mihail smiled. “Then, when would you like the scandal to break?”
“In half a year.”
“I will prepare immediately. And the final request?”
Blair pulled a folded note from her pocket and handed it over. Drawn on the parchment was a crest—the exact seal she had seen engraved on the assassin’s dagger the night she died.
“Find the person who possesses a dagger with this crest.”
Mihail scrutinized the drawing before tucking it into his pocket. “I will strive to ensure you get your answer as soon as possible.”
When Blair descended to the first floor, the subordinates—now aware of her status through Mihail’s deferential treatment—bowed deeply.
She left the guild without a backward glance, unaware that a shadow was watching her departure, then vanishing into the night.