It was time. Verre smoothed the shimmering silver folds of her gown, the movement allowing her a peek at her sparkling glass slippers. Glass. The word always brought a smile to her face. It was so deceptively deadly. The rich sound of a horn rippled through the silence, causing all those waiting with Verre to glance up.

The prince had finally arrived.

Verre looked up as well, forcing an awed expression. It would not bode well for her if her disgust was evident.

There he was, descending the staircase. His unrestrained grandeur sickened her. His unicorn-fur robe alone could pay for an entire city's meals for one whole moon cycle! That, coupled with the fact that it was illegal to hunt unicorns, caused a spark of anger to burn deep inside Verre. Did no one care?

There was one thought that made Verre rather hopeful. She had heard rumors that the king had sired another child. It was obvious the king had many illegitimate children, considering his history, but none ever survived childhood.

Of course, it was merely speculation, but perhaps if the rumors were true, Allegora might regain some of its former glory, instead of just being known as the politically fragmented kingdom of Atulau.

As Verre glanced around, she saw shadows scurrying about, so slight she barely recognized them as humans. The king's many slaves, better known as handmaids and men. Of course, none of the other nobles noticed anything. Wealth was a wonderful blindfold to pain and suffering, and if Verre hadn't been brought up differently, she probably would be just like them.

Footsteps echoed, but Verre pointedly ignored them. A hand slithered along her shoulder, diverting her thought process. "And who might you be?" The slippery smoothness of the prince's voice nauseated Verre, but she retained her composure.

"Prince Jonad." She gave a curt bow and pulled away. "I am Lady Rira, the daughter of one of the eastern lords."

The prince gave her a curious look, and Verre wondered for a moment if he recognized her, but then she remembered her enchantment. Until the clock struck twelve, she would be unrecognizable. A witch had been quite helpful in enchanting the way she looked. Even if someone were to try and find Lady Rira, they would be disappointed to know she didn't even exist.

Prince Jonad's eyes raked over a woman to their left, Verre glancing over as well. Her dress was made of lace so fine it must have been created by the great spiders of the mountains. Definitely a pricey choice.

Of course, she doubted Jonad was inspecting the dress but rather what it didn't cover.

Averting her gaze, she studied him. If one were to go only on looks, he seemed like a pleasant enough man, especially with his splendid physique, deep brown eyes, and charming grin. But while his eyes were pretty, they had the look of a predator about them.

"Are you enjoying yourself tonight?" His mouth formed a subtle, pleased grin. At her brief nod, he continued, "Have you had a chance to see the palace gardens? They are unparalleled."

A garden. Secluded. Private. Alone. That was how it had happened to past women.

Fear wormed its way through Verre though she tried to placate it. He could do nothing to her. She was practically his height and just as strong. Still, the intensity with which he stared at her—his gaze occasionally drifting to the rest of her body—spoke volumes. Now Verre understood to a small extent the terror Lora, the woman who had hired her, had been forced to experience.

She plastered a coy grin onto her face and placed a hand on his arm. "I would be honored, my prince."

"Then let us head there right away! I'll order some of the servants to bring food and drink there for us." The pleased expression on his face sent a shudder rushing down her spine. He guided her into the garden, his hand resting confidently on her hip.

"What is your favorite flower, Prince Jonad?" Verre asked as she inspected them closely, knowing that she'd never have another opportunity to see the rare beauties the palace was famous for. There was the dragon's heart, deep red flowers that bled in autumn; the moon blossoms, which were bright enough to be used as a source of light; and Verre's favorite, the angel's death, an innocent-looking white flower that had enough poison to kill even the most powerful of beings.

Deceptively deadly.

This simple thought helped relax her. She was a trained and conditioned killer. He could do nothing to her that she didn't allow. Besides, this was a mission to avenge.

"Unicorn tear has always been a personal favorite." Prince Jonad glanced at the cluster of glowing, purple buds that were surrounded by a shimmering gold shield. Of course it would be unicorn tear. The flower only grew when a unicorn tear fell on fertile soil. Unicorns rarely shed tears, and the conditions had to be just right in order for the plant to thrive. Because of their ability to grant one wish, the unicorn tear was highly sought after.

Verre had heard rumors of how the royal family had managed to grow the entire cluster, of the unicorns they had tortured and the mages they had forced to create the perfect conditions for it to thrive.

"Unicorn tear? How incredibly rare. One hasn't been found in the wild in over a millennium." Verre turned from inspecting the angel's death to smile sweetly at Prince Jonad. "I'm surprised you were able to grow such a large amount, especially with the decrease in the unicorn population." She hoped the question seemed like one a dumb noblewoman would ask, though she was curious if he'd actually confess to never abiding by the own rules his family had set in place for the people of Allegora.

"Ah, sly, aren't we?" He smiled thinly. "I must say I'm hurt you wouldn't just come clean. Honestly, do you find me a fool?"

Verre frowned. "I can't begin to understand what you're trying to imply, my prince. Me? Sly? Never!" If he had discovered her deception, this mission might have to be messier than she wished.

He grinned, though it never reached his eyes. "Lady Rira! Do you mean to tell me that you didn't jump at the opportunity to see my gardens for the sole purpose of requesting a unicorn tear bud?"

Relief calmed her, and she flashed him a coy smile. "You've found me out, my prince. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of the famed flower and perhaps even ask for one. Who wouldn't?" Her fingers grabbed at a strand of hair that curled at her neck, watching how his gaze dropped to it immediately, his expression intense.

Then, searching her eyes, as if he didn't quite believe her, he nodded. "Of course." His hand trailed up her arm, his eyes never leaving hers. "Has this night been enjoyable?"

Gulping back nausea, she let his hand rest there. "Very much so. I had no idea the palace could host such elaborate parties." Her eyes left his to inspect the smooth marble of the palace itself, the glowing flowers casting odd shadows. The guests cast their own, twisting and swaying to the gentle music that flowed sweetly through the courtyards.

"Well, for being such pleasant company, Lady Rira, I'd like to offer you a room in the palace for the night. It would not do to have you sleeping in some inn."

Relief washed over Verre. The garden would have been far too public a place for a confrontation anyway. The prince could not have planned his own death any better. "Thank you for your kind offer, my dear prince. I am humbled." She bowed low, not even having to hide her delighted smile.

***

It was time.

She pulled on her usual trousers, having discarded the dress long before. The foolish prince had given her a room close to his own, something she was grateful for.

Verre slowly opened the door, her eyes widening at the prince's form standing right outside. Her breath caught, though her features remained frozen.

"Prince Jonad," she said softly. "What brings you here?"

"I think you know, dearest Rira," he said in a low voice, his eyes dark with greed as they swept over her. Putting a hand out to brush a strand of hair out of her face, he moved to enter the room.

"This is highly inappropriate! Remove yourself from my room, Your Majesty, or I will call the guards!" Verre allowed her voice to rise to a shrill squeak, enjoying the panic that lingered on his face.

It was replaced almost immediately with anger, his eyes so full of rage that chilling fear rushed through her. He reached out to grab her, but she was too fast. Grabbing his arm and stepping to the side, she snapped it, relishing his cry of pain far more than she would have thought.

He recovered quickly, though, bringing a perfectly healthy fist crashing into her jaw. The pain did little but enrage her. "Who are you?" he demanded, slowly inching toward her. His mistake.

Verre slipped by him, shutting the door and effectively trapping Jonad in the bedroom with her. There was no hope for him now. His brows furrowed in confusion.

Glass formed in her clenched fist, a long shard, wickedly sharp. She shoved it into his thigh, causing him to cry out in pain.

The image of a defenseless woman, pleading with the prince came to mind, filling her with the rage she needed.

"Does that hurt?" She clicked her tongue in a disapproving way, ramming another shard into his right shoulder.

A low moan of pain.

"Lora sends her regards," Verre whispered in his ear before sending one last shard through his gut.

She tossed the blood-stained prince to the ground, glancing at the stains he'd left on her in disgust. He would have assaulted her too if he had been given the chance. "How does it feel to be the victim?" she said softly, his eyes widening in realization. "No one to help you, no one to call for. Terrifying, right?" He said nothing, either the fear or pain having stilled his tongue.

Seeing him lying there, Verre forced herself to believe this was justice. Messy, yes, but necessary. Now he would no longer harm another woman.

"Can't leave any evidence, can we?" With a flick of her hand, the glass disappeared from his body, bloody wounds the only indication of a weapon.

Glass. How ironic that it was more deadly when broken than whole. And how Verre enjoyed her things broken.

The palace clock boomed. It was midnight. Verre's disguise melted away, restoring her tall, lithe figure, her hair tickling her jaw. Her eyes alighted on the prince's form. He was still alive

"Verre?" He whispered, blood bubbling over his lips, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

All the rage flickered out and like a punch to the gut, she realized she had gone too far. Verre might be a killer, but torture was never acceptable. Shaking her head to try and rid herself of these thoughts, she sent one last shard through his brain. Minimal pain, minimal suffering. "Goodbye, Jonad."