She wished he had died.

Every cell in her body urged her to draw closer to where he laid. Her eyes tracked the faint rise and fall of his chest as the images played through her mind. It would be so easy.

She would draw the blade strapped beneath her skirts. Then, she would approach him silently, fingers gripped around the cool metal with the same pressure he used on her throat. The blade would rise as she paused next to his head. With slow, methodical pleasure, she would find the right location to strike. It was important he couldn't call for help.

Finally, a swift slice. The arterial spray would stain her skin crimson. Pleasure would course through her body, despite the disgust the blood would summon. She wasn't so numb as to be able to coat herself with it and not feel something. Still, it would be worth it.

Everything would be over and she would be happy.

Her fingers trembled against the soft, lace trimmings of her black skirts. No one would miss him. Even the staff wanted him dead. She saw the way they watched him when his back was turned. Then there was the the warmth she received, versus the cool respect they gave him. They would accept it if she returned to the estate with a story of some hired-thug offing him in his sleep.

It was Nokos after all.

She sighed, raising her palms to her eyes. Dreams were nice and all, but reality was harsh and driving. It demanded her attention. She couldn't stand here lost in thought. There was too much opportunity to be found in his injuries.

Dropping her hands to her sides, she stepped back to eye the full-length mirror the inn had so generously provided. Unlike her last jaunt into the dark alleys, she had decided to dress like a true Eolian noble. Dark black fabric hugged her hips, and fell past her calves in the back. The skirt crept up in the front, becoming far more risque. How did women walk around like this? Her knees were exposed for fates' sake. Then there was the readily visible corset cinching her waist. Back home, this would be positively indecent.

She sighed and stepped away to don a red cloak. Regardless of her feelings on the style, the outfit was her only choice. If the man in the bed was to die, she needed to do this. Dressing as Eolian nobility would draw the right eyes. At least, that was her hope. The thought looped through her mind as a sort of encouragement as she tugged the hood up, then tucked her curled locks within the fabric.

Locking the door behind her, she left the room and started for the first floor. Tension slid from her shoulders as she walked through the inn's common area. Despite the regrettable, eye-catching shade of her cloak--it was the only color the shop had readily available in her size--she drew less attention than any other time she'd stepped foot outside their room.

Moonlight lit the abandoned streets. She hesitated in the inn doorway, her eyes skimming the darkness that coated the outside world.

Was this really a good idea? There was a near zero chance she would be rescued if this trip turned sour. Her luck wasn't so bright as to give her multiple breaks within such a short period of time. Her teeth worried her lip, fingers clenching her skirt.

Go. Just go. She urged herself. Things won't change like this. Not by standing still.

It took another minute, but she forced herself from the inn. The streets felt darker, more sinister the second the door clicked shut behind her. She shuddered, but continued walking. Nokos was harder to navigate at night, especially when working with vague directions. But, soon enough, she'd located the tagged store wall she'd been instructed to by a few hesitant locals, and therefore the alleyway that laid beyond it.

Stepping foot into those shadows was the hardest part.

Once again, she hesitated. Her flats toed the line, gaze searching for the eyes she could feel watching her from the dark. Fear came sudden, piercing the faux bravery that'd gotten her thus far. Gods, what was she thinking? The moment she gave her name in that place they would notify him. Then, all her plans, all the money she'd saved, it would be useless. He would lock her away. Or worse, have her killed. Was the risk even worth it?

Yes.

The answer resounded through her bones and prompted her feet to start moving again. Yes. It was worth anything, even her own life, to get rid of him. And it had to be done this way.

If she looked suspicious, if his death could be connected to her in any way, then his family would use it as an excuse to edge her out of inheriting their titles. Without an heir, the claim she had was shallow at best. If that disappeared, they would ignore whatever will was left behind and take everything. Her plan would be useless if his written will wasn't followed. She sent a silent thanks to the gods that he was so blind to his own mortality. It hadn't been updated since the day they were wed.

The loosely memorized lines echoed through her mind as she forced herself to continue trekking closer to death.

In the event of the Duke of Ephi's untimely death, all titles and lands are to be inherited by his wife, to be held until the firstborn child of their union has reached adulthood. In the event there is no heir, the titles shall remain in her care. Her direct family is named second-in-line.

Back then, the loose wording had been something she could easily ignore. After all, it'd been drawn up as his promise to her that if anything happened, her family would be taken care of.

Now, she knew it was his way of ensuring that even if he had to "deal" with her, the papers wouldn't need to be updated. After all, anyone he wed would be his wife. If she disappeared, the next woman would be able to legally inherit without trouble. He was nothing if not efficiently lazy.

"Stop."

She froze. Her heart nearly leapt from her chest as a figure emerged from the pitch-black cloaking the back of the alley. They stood a good two heads taller than her, and their features were cloaked, much like her own.

"Do you know who's territory you've entered?" they asked. There was nothing in their even tone for her to read. Her nerves frayed as she struggled with the urge to turn tail and run.

"The Votanna," she said. Shockingly, her own voice didn't crack. It wasn't as loud as she would've liked, but even little victories could win wars.

"Correct." The figure leaned against the dirty wall. She would've shuddered if she wasn't frozen in place. There wasn't enough gold in the world to make her touch these stones by choice. Well, unless it would help with this situation. "I don't recognize you."

She cleared her throat, clutching her cloak hood. The tight grip was all she could do to hide her trembling. "You wouldn't. It--I'm not usually the one who does business with you."

"Ah, but you do do business."

"Yes. My, uh, husband. He has an account."

"Name?" they questioned.

Her veins turned to ice. This was it.

If they were going to betray her, this was all the information they would need. Just one wrong word to him and she would disappear or die. She closed her eyes, taking a slow breath in. You've come this far. Just finish it.

"Mara Levantis. My husband is Kyril."

Her eyes slid open as the figure gave a soft, thinking hum. "Ah... the Duke."

Somehow, it was easier to answer their questions now that her cards were laid out. "Yes."

They pushed off of the wall, and stepped back into the shadows. All that remained visible was the single, black gloved hand they were now offering.

"Then, by all means, welcome Your Grace. You'll have to touch me to walk in. You'll understand if we're a bit paranoid when it comes to security."

The title sounded sarcastic coming from them. Nevertheless, Mara smiled and slid her trembling fingers into their palm.

"It's only reasonable," she agreed.

They gripped her hand, using it to pull her closer. She gasped, but made no attempt at struggle. The shadows fell away to dim lantern-light. A lit flame hung from the side of the now visible doorway that towered in front of them. A single, red oleander was painted onto the dark wood. The Votanna's sign.

They dropped her hand and stepped forward to open the door. "Come."

She followed without a word. The inside of the building was more simple than she'd expected. A long, dark hall stretched a good forty feet in front of them, before ending at a closed door. Each of the walls were blank, the only break in the wood being the occasional exit. The black-cloaked figure led her through the dim space to the door in the back.

She shuddered as ghostly whispers seemed to echo through the air. Are there others here?

It was possible, even if there were no visible faces. It'd already been proven there was an expensive enchantment on the building itself. Mara knew very little of magic, but imagined it was possible to extend a cloaking to the building's inhabitants as well. Perhaps they wore charms.

"In here, Your Grace."

Again, the address sounded sarcastic. It didn't surprise her. She doubted titles, foreign or not, meant much to the Votanna. The door she was shown through led into darkness. She paused in the frame, uncertainty flickering through her.

"Here?"

"That's what I said," the stranger answered, amusement flicking into their dull tone. "Let it fall shut."

Mara did as asked, her heart pounding in her ears as the faint click of a lock echoed from behind her. The room remained pitch black for a moment longer, before a single candle flickered to life a few feet in front of her. The flame showed a table, and two chairs. One was occupied by a similarly cloaked figure. Whether it was the original person, or someone new, she had no clue.

"Sit."

Their voice was distinctly feminine, with a bell-like chime that sent shivers down her spine. She found herself following the direction without thought, sitting before the request really registered in her mind. Confusion, then fear followed. Was the speaker a witch? Or a nightmare? She couldn't be human and guide Mara's actions so easily.

"This is the one, then?" her escort asked.

"She is. You can go," the bell-voice replied.

There was the swish of moving fabric, then the door behind her opened and shut. They were alone. Her heart raced as silence followed the stranger's exit. The seconds, then minutes ticked by without a single word or movement.

Then, suddenly, the figure pushed back their hood. It was hard to make out their features with such little light, but she could at least tell they were a woman. A beautiful one at that. Wavy, dark locks fell over her potentially tanned face and disappeared into her cloak. Piercing eyes--the color impossible to determine--seemed to stare into Mara's soul.

"You are Mara?" the woman questioned.

Her tone was light, warm even. Mara hadn't expected that. "I--Y-yes. That's me."

How did this stranger know that? There hadn't been enough time for the other Votanna member to tell her, had there?

"You've a request?" the woman prompted.

Directly to business, then.

"Yes. I..." She trailed off for a moment, trying to find her courage. "... I want to request a traveling companion."

"Companion?" the woman asked, amused. "You are aware what sort of work the Votanna does, yes?"

"I, I am. I just--I want, need. I need someone who can... kill someone. Quietly. After a certain time, and with certain information collected. And, this seemed the best place to go. Searching the streets was... dangerous."

"It feels like a lot is missing from this story," the woman mused. "But, you aren't wrong that aimlessly wandering Nokos is dangerous. Can I assume this person you want gone is traveling with you, then?"

She cleared her throat. A chill froze her veins. Her fingers trembled.

"Um, yes. They're... my husband."

Silence followed her admission. Mara's heart was in her throat. This was it. The moment they killed her. Kyril wouldn't even be necessary. They would just off her right here for even daring to plan the death of a duke.

Disbelief flooded her body as the woman leaned forward, pushing her smile into view of the candlelight.

"Then, I believe this is a tale that ought to be told from the beginning, Your Grace. I would like to have all the details before we begin."

"Before--then, you'll take the job?"

"We will," the woman agreed.

Should she believe her? Did she even have a choice? More importantly--

"Who are you? How can you make the choice to do this so easily?"

Foreign or not, it was nothing to scoff at--assassinating a duke. And yet the woman had agreed within seconds. As an answer, the stranger stood, offering a shallow, shadowed bow.

"My name is Dalphie, Your Grace. And I am one of the original Votanna. And so, everyone here will follow my word."

Hope and fear twisted her heart in equal measure as the woman peeked up through her wild, brunette locks. The smile on her lips, and the gleam in her eyes, was nothing short of bloodthirsty.

"Duke Levantis will die."