“No one.”
Ambrose grinned. “Right.”
Valek stood, saluted Ambrose with his mug, downed the contents in one gulp and set it on the table.
“Valek,” Ambrose said.
He turned back. The humor was gone from Ambrose’s gaze. In its place was a cold hardness like a dagger made of ice.
“Kill them all,” the Commander said.
“All?”
“All the royals. King, Queen, princes...everyone with royal blood.”
Valek stared at him.
“They’re a weed. If we don’t get all the roots, they’ll grow back. Do you understand?”
He did. It just seemed...heartless despite the logic. “Yes, sir.”
* * *
The countdown had begun. Six months to assassinate the King and his entire family. Valek traveled to Jewelstown, which was located near the castle’s complex. The town had been renamed after Queen Jewel—a wedding gift from the King. Valek spent every night the first week searching for a way inside the complex. The steep and smooth outer walls were not only difficult to climb, but too exposed.
He dressed as a servant and was able to enter the main gates without trouble. However, he soon discovered the servants were restricted to their corridors and quarters and rarely saw the royals let alone interacted with them. Only the trusted servants, who’d worked in the castle for years, were allowed into the royal apartments and kitchen. Smart.
One thing he’d learned at Hedda’s was patience. Hired as an errand boy, Valek gathered information about the daily activities of the staff for a few weeks before discovering one way to get inside the royal apartments.
“Where’s Darrick?” one of the housekeeping servants asked. “He was supposed to clean the chamber pots hours ago.” She twisted her apron.
“He’s sick,” Valek said. “I heard him in the outhouse.” He lowered his voice. “It sounded bad.” Thanks to the dose of White Fright Valek had slipped him yesterday morning. “I’m between jobs, ma’am. I could dump them for you.”
She chewed on her lip.
“Unless you want to?”
“Heavens no. Follow me.” She set off.
Valek hurried to keep up. She led him to a wash station.
“You dump the contents into that bucket.” She pointed to a grungy, smelly metal pail. “Then you wash the pot in the soapy water, dry it and return it. When you’re done, take the bucket down to the outhouses and dump it. Understand?”
Ah, the glamorous life of an assassin. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” She escorted him through the royal suites and guest rooms, showing him the location of all the pots. The housekeeper watched him for a while, but soon another servant caught her attention and she hurried off.
As Valek continued cleaning pots, he noted the room locations, guards and who the other servants were. The next day, poor Darrick wasn’t any better and Valek filled in for him again. By the time Darrick was well enough to return to work, the housekeeper had assigned the boy to other duties. Darrick didn’t complain at all.
Valek learned as much as he could during his twice-daily forays into the royal apartments. Within a couple of weeks, he determined that he wouldn’t get close to the Queen or the King by cleaning chamber pots. However, he noticed one of the Queen’s women wasn’t a lady-in-waiting or a servant. She arrived in the morning and styled the Queen’s hair, picked out her gown for the day and applied makeup to Queen Jewel’s face. She would return again before dinner and help the Queen get ready for the evening meal. They spent much of the time alone in the Queen’s quarters. Her guards were banished to the outer rooms while she dressed.
He made a few discreet inquiries about this woman.
“Oh, that’s Parveen,” one of the biggest castle gossips said. “She has a little beauty shop in Jewelstown she won’t give up. The Queen indulges her because she’s supposedly the best.” The woman lowered her voice and leaned close. “I personally think the Queen can do better. Did you see her hair yesterday? It looked like a bird’s nest.” She tsked.
After he cleaned the pots in the morning, he followed Parveen into Jewelstown. Sure enough, she entered a shop along Lowell Street. Valek wouldn’t describe it as “little.” The place spanned almost a full block. Mirrors covered the walls, and chairs ringed the interior.
Customers filled those chairs as an army of beauticians worked on cutting and styling hair. A few barbers attended male customers. Parveen smiled brightly, calling to her associates. Soon she was braiding a young woman’s long copper hair.
Within a few hours, Valek understood why Parveen kept her shop. The women treated her with respect and kindness, unlike the Queen, and Parveen thrived in the homey atmosphere. As soon as Parveen left to return to the castle, her warm smile disappeared.
An idea sparked. This woman may be the key to getting to the King. He just had to figure out the best way to use her. Valek considered romancing her, but there’d be no reason for her to take him to her appointments with the Queen. He could disguise himself as Parveen. Except he didn’t have the hairstyling skills to convince the Queen. And while he could kill the Queen before having to fix her hair, he’d no idea how he’d reach the rest of the royals. No. He needed to be working inside the castle for a season at least.
After watching her and the shop for a few days, Valek formulated a plan. He ran his fingers through his hair. Good thing he hadn’t cut it in seasons. The black strands fell past his shoulders. Valek bought a long skirt, blouse, female undergarments, socks and a heavy shawl from a used clothing store.