A royal favour? A fucking royal favour. Gods, I could ask for anything. Join the High Council, ask for immunity for my father, or even a piece of Sanatio. Then I can use some to make a medicine strong enough to repair Malachi’s voice.

And then my thoughts turn to Scarlett, what she said. Whether she said it outright or not, she implied she was going after the Border Lord, after father…

I can’t have that. I have to be on their team. Be close enough to stop her. She’s a trained Assassin, she’d slaughter him in an instant… even with all father’s security.

I’m out of the war room, running down the hallway towards Scarlett and the woman with her, Stirling, I think it was. Pretty sure I’ve met her before. I scratch my mind, trying to remember when I’ve done business with her.

“Scarlett,” I say.

The pair of them halt. Stirling turns, and as soon as I see the unlit cigarette hanging from her mouth, I remember.

“I remember now, fire-suffused tobacco. You located me a batch for an outbreak of ice boils that swept New Imperium a while ago.”

Stirling winks at me. “I certainly did.”

I glance between the two women. Realisation dawning on me. They have the same crystal eyes. The same defined jawline and red tinge to their hair. Scarlett’s hair is long and braided, whereas Stirling’s is shoulder length and angled. Stirling is shorter too, slightly curvier than Scarlett’s pencil appearance. But what confirms it is the way they hold themselves. The weight of their legacy status pinning their shoulders back and chins up—no banishment can get rid of that, it’s in their blood: entitled. The arrogance runs through both their expressions. Stirling, though, she has a distinct air about her, warmer, cockier, as if she knows how attractive she is and uses it freely.

Scarlett is far subtler. Her quiet command melting my insides, making me desperate to submit to… I focus. “You’re twins?”

Stirling grins. “She’s lucky, aren’t you Scar… having a sister like me?”

Scarlett rolls her eyes. “I see you two are already acquainted.”

I nod.

“And it seems you are the best Poisoner and medic in the city.”

I stand a little straighter, try to brush the compliment off. “I think I probably cause more deaths than I save at the moment. But I trained as a medic initially.”

“Excellent,” Stirling says. “So we have our medic then.”

“Absolutely not,” Scarlett barks so loud it startles me.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Stirling says, smirking. “Whatever your little domestic is, and we all know I know exactly what this is about… Spoiler, it’s not your trade war… you need to shape up and get on board because we’re teaming up. Deal with it.”

“I mean, I’m game,” I say. There’s no way I can go in alone. Father would realise exactly what was up, and I’d be sent straight to his palace. All the guards have known me for years. But if I come in under the cover of a team and change my appearance a bit, I might get to him before Scarlett does.

“You sound like you want to assassinate the Border Lord,” I say. “You’ll need help if you want to get past his soldiers.”

“Yeah,” Scarlett says, narrowing her eyes at me, “and what’s a Poisoner like you going to do that a High Assassin can’t? I’ll just cut my way through.”

I snort and rock on my heels. “Ex-High Assassin. And I would like to see you try to get through his soldiers.”

Scarlett’s face shakes. A shimmer of red flashing up her neck. I love annoying her. Her muscles tense and those… well; they are glorious. One nil to me, Grey.

“And what do you know of the Border?” Scarlett says and takes two steps closer. She towers above me. My eyes slip to her arms, the bulging muscle under her skin-tight top, down further, around her tight waist. She doesn’t curve like me. She’s straight up and down. I swallow hard, wondering what it would feel like if she picked me up, slammed my back into the wall and ravaged me.

Gods.

This is not what I should be thinking about. Not when she’s intimating going after father. And yet, I can’t help it. She smells like worn leather and metal, cool and fresh and a little like wind.

“I’ve spent time there. I was born in one of the towns lost to the Border. The Queen probably chose me because I’m familiar with the area.”

And there’s no fucking way I’m letting you murder my father. Even if he’s not exactly innocent.

Stirling jabs her sister. “See. Told you. Insider information. And a medic. Do I really need to convince you? This is a win-win, Scar.”

Scarlett snaps to her sister, “Oh, really? And what exactly are we going to do with the prize? Because she—” she thrusts a finger in my direction. “—doesn’t need her legacy reinstating. We get one royal favour.”

I fidget on the spot. I’m losing her. She’s right. One royal favour. I hadn’t even considered that they’d want to spend it, but how the hell else can she get her legacy back?

“Maybe she will give us a favour each,” I say, but my words are weak.

“It’s a nice thought,” Stirling says and gives me a limp smile.

We’re silent for a while until a guard enters the hallway and encourages us to keep moving.

We pass through hall after hall of low lighting, giant oil paintings of monarchs past. Then we enter the heart of the palace and we pass the central courtyard. A regal Sanatio tree stands tall. It’s centuries old. So old, it almost outdates magic itself. The wealth and power that one tree bestows upon its owner, the palace, is almost eye watering. But it gives me an idea.

“You had land and titles and enough coin to fund an army when you were legacy magicians, right?” I ask.

Scarlett glares at me, her face dark, fury burning in her expression. “What’s your point?”

“Take the prize, but use your money to pay the rest of the team. I only need enough to buy a piece of Sanatio.”

“That’s pricey,” Stirling says.

“And the mission is dangerous. Which is why it would have been my royal favour. But the hows of how I get a branch don’t really matter. What matters is I have access to it, so I can… well, anyway. I need a piece.”

Stirling pulls on Scarlett’s arm. “Scar. This works. We could negotiate with a technician, a transporter, magician…”

“And if we don’t? If we’re caught? Killed? Then what? What if we get there and can’t secure the map? How do we pay everyone for the time? No. This is ridiculous. If we do this, we’re doing it alone. It has always been me and you, Stirling. And that’s the way it’s going to stay.” Her eyes flash at me. “Poisoner. It was intensely displeasureable meeting you. Stop stealing my fucking clients. Good night.”

She marches off.

Stirling touches my arm. “Don’t do anything rash, okay? I’ll convince her. Nice seeing you again, Quinn.”

She squeezes me, then she’s jogging off after her sister.

Fuck. This isn’t good.

The longer I stand in the corridor, the further away they get. And then they’re out the front door and vanish into the night. I’m left knowing my father is going to be assassinated, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

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