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The target was stunning in a red dress that hugged her curves and spilled in waves to the floor. Her hair sat piled on her head, but curling chestnut ringlets tumbled down onto her bare shoulders. Her dress left much of her ample chest exposed before coming back together at her naval.
Anna’s was not the only eye on Milo Yuelle that evening, but hers was probably the only eye trained on her for murder.
Anna sipped at the wine in her cup. At least, it looked like wine. She couldn’t actually risk dulling her senses as she prepared to engage such a skilled target. Benedict had warned her that Milo would prove an uncommonly shrewd mark, and Anna could already see why. Even as she laughed prettily behind her hand, her gaze slid slyly to Anna.
I see you.
Well, Anna saw her, too, and this dance between them had only just begun.
#
Anna kept her distance most of the night. For some targets, she’d happily dive in, get the job done. But Milo was different. Milo hadn’t missed a beat this entire night. No matter where Anna drifted, when she looked up, she found Milo’s gaze on her.
Fine. Some targets required a more direct approach.
Milling guests filled the banquet hall. Servers wove among the representatives and dignitaries and hopeful hangers on from all three nations. A band occupied one corner. Once the most important guests had been announced and the less important ones had had enough wine not to shoot nervous glances toward kings and princes any longer, the band struck up simple, obvious music, the types of songs that were played at all these functions.
Everything was routine. Everything was predictable.
Except Milo.
This night had to go to plan. That was Benedict’s order. The guests were arriving as expected. The band was playing as expected. People were drifting toward the dancefloor as expected.
Milo stood out among all this like a glittering jewel amid a pile of plain iron. She knew it, too. Another piercing look cut through the crowd to strike Anna right in the chest as Milo headed toward the dancefloor. She took the first partner who offered, but her gaze returned to Anna every time she spun.
Anna started moving before she questioned why. It had been a frustrating night. Milo had caught her at every turn, thwarted Anna’s efforts to blend in and simply watch before making her move.
Yes, that was it. That was what propelled Anna toward that dancefloor full of stately nobles carefully jostling among their allies and enemies, politely accepting dances from women they’d see on the battlefield and men they’d plot wars with (or against).
Anna felt out of place the moment she accepted a partner and began to dance. She knew the steps. Benedict had ensured she did. Her job placed her in dank alleyways as often as it placed her in official functions like this, and she had to be perfectly suited to either environment.
She could therefore dance with her first partner without even noticing who they were. Milo swayed and spun ever closer, a star falling to Earth, dusting everything in its path with a brief, brilliant glow.
The song ended. People politely thanked their partners and stepped an appropriate distance apart.
Then she was there, all that luminous allure glaring and glinting as she offered her hand.
“Would you grant me the next dance?” Milo said.
Anna wasn’t sure what the right answer to this was. Benedict hadn’t trained her for a target as good at this as she was. She was left with nothing but instinct and the flutter in her gut.
Anna accepted Milo’s hand, let the woman pull her a little closer. A safe, proper span of empty space lingered between their bodies. If Anna closed that space, pressed her body up against Milo’s in that tiny, tiny dress, could she ascertain the information Benedict had sent her here to find?
Is she dangerous? What is her goal? Who is her target? What is her true purpose? Who is she working for? Which side of the war is she on?
Not questions Anna thought Milo’s body would reveal so easily, but who was to say she didn’t have a weapon hidden on her, something that could reveal her allegiance? Officially, the whole world was working on peace. Unofficially, however, everyone was waiting to see who would break that peace first. Milo might just reveal the answer, if Anna could tease the information out of her.
Dancing was not the method Anna would have chosen, but it had placed Anna close to her target, close to the chestnut ringlets spilling over her bare shoulders, close to the floral scent drifting up out of her dress, close to her red-painted lips – and Anna knew when to seize an opportunity.
“You’re quite handsome this evening,” Milo said.
Her eyes swiftly appraised Anna. Unlike Milo in her ostentatious finery, Anna wore plain black trousers, a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a black vest over it. She did not feel handsome; she felt like she would be mistaken for a server if she weren’t here dancing with Milo.
“You look lovely, my lady,” Anna said, making the appropriate noises.
Milo giggled as though Anna had lavished her with praise. “You are so kind, my lord Anna.”
“You know who I am?”
Milo had briefly joined Serenoa’s forces during the war, but Anna had intentionally kept her distance, unsure of this stranger from Hyzante. With those hostilities behind them, Anna had assumed any brief acquaintance they’d had during the fighting would be long forgotten. They had both gone back to their respective nations, Anna to keep an ear to the ground and ensure this fragile new peace held, and Milo to … well, no one was quite sure. Which was exactly why Anna was stepping through a simple partner dance with her now.
“Of course I know who you are,” Milo said. “How could I forget such an enticing figure?”
Anna snorted. Empty flattery. Milo had to be shrewd enough to know it wouldn’t do much but annoy Anna.
“It’s true,” Milo insisted.
“I am hardly enticing,” Anna said. “Not among…”
She nodded her head vaguely at the rest of the crowd. Actual royalty shared this dancefloor with them, from the newly crowned King Roland to what remained of Hyzante’s Saintly Seven. Even those of lower caste still far outranked Anna. Knights stood guard around the banquet hall. Generals swapped war stories with the heirs to entire households and names. Even advisors like Benedict far, far outranked the likes of Anna, little more than a rank-and-file soldier for House Wolffort.
Milo leaned a bit closer, those cherry bright lips filling Anna’s vision. “You underestimate yourself. Don’t worry. I won’t make the same mistake.”
Before Anna could do more than blink, Milo was gone, whirling away as everyone swapped partners. Anna ended up with King Roland himself, but thankfully the young ruler was so distracted he hardly gave Anna more than a nod. He was resplendent in all his finery, but his pale eyes could not have been more distant. Anna frankly worried for the man, or she would have, until she followed his gaze and found it on one of his knights, a tall man all in white.
Anna’s time was short. If Roland’s blatant distraction and desire were any indication, guests would soon be thinking less about diplomacy and more about who would join them in their chambers this evening. The dance was a formality, a ritualistic pairing off that warned of the ending of the festivities. If Anna wanted to pry information from her target, she would need to do so soon.
But the next time the dance partners shuffled, she ended up with Serenoa, not Milo. He was just as distracted as Roland. His attentions were as little of a secret as Roland’s, but Serenoa could express his adoration of his queen openly, where Roland would likely never openly admit his fondness for his former master and current knight. Not that anyone didn’t know. Roland proclaimed his affections loudly enough for all of Norzelia to hear when it was late and he was in his chambers supposedly “alone.” It didn’t take a spy of Anna’s caliber to know who he was doing all that crying out for.
The dance shifted again, depositing Anna in Trish’s arms. She started speaking as though picking up a conversation they’d started earlier in the night. Anna listened to none of it, searching for Milo, furious at herself for losing track of the target.
She found the woman striding away, moving quickly but without any hurry. She looked once over her shoulder, shooting Anna a smirk, then she left the banquet hall entirely.
Anna abruptly abandoned her partner, leaving Trish behind mid-sentence to veer off the dancefloor and cut through the crowd after Milo. Normally, Anna’s slight stature helped her blend in and disappear, but at the moment, it left her lost among shuffling bodies. She had to chase the path she thought Milo had taken, but she was running blind.
Anna hissed something inappropriate and vulgar at herself. The nearest pretty, well-mannered noble might have gasped, but she didn’t care. She had to get out of this place and find Milo before she vanished into the night and Anna’s mission was a failure. The peace of Norzelia might hang on figuring out what that woman was up to.
Anna burst out of the banquet hall, startling the poor, perhaps tipsy knights stationed at either side of the doors. They murmured the correct words when they recognized her, but Anna ignored them and kept on.
The hall beyond was a straight path until it widened into the rest of Glenbrook Castle. In mere steps, Anna would lose any hope of finding Milo. She could be anywhere, even snooping around the castle itself.
Anna’s attempt at cursing at herself again cut off into a startled rasp as someone seized her by the arm and yanked her into a room she hadn’t even noticed. The door shut, plunging her into darkness with her assailant. Anna’s hands flew to the knives hidden all over her body, but when she pressed sharp, cold steel against the throat of the person before her, a musical laugh met her attack.
“And here I thought we had such a nice time on that dancefloor,” Milo said.
Anna lowered the knife, but did not yet tuck it away. “What are you thinking grabbing me like that?”
Anna’s eyes were rapidly adjusting to the darkness, revealing Milo’s curling, bemused smile.
“I was thinking that I hoped our night wasn’t quite over,” Milo said.
Her eyes flickered boldly up and down, and Anna was suddenly grateful for the cloaking darkness. Milo just chuckled and grabbed Anna’s wrist like that same motion hadn’t nearly put a knife in her only moment ago. She dragged Anna back into what Anna realized was a storage closet of some sort. A rather large one. It seemed to contain every coat and cloak and cape worn by the banquet’s attendees. They pushed past hanging fabric until they found the far wall of the closet, a secluded spot cut off from all the noise and clutter of the castle.
Milo faced Anna in the tight, close darkness.
“I saw you watching me,” Milo said.
Anna wasn’t sure if it was a challenge or an invitation. Either way, she didn’t respond. She had her target cornered, trapped, though if that frightened Milo, she certainly wasn’t showing it.
“I was watching you too,” Milo said.
Her words brushed warm against Anna’s face, adding to the heat already simmering there. Anna couldn’t stop it, so she did the only thing she could, the thing Benedict had always taught her to do when a situation started slipping from her grasp: She leaned into it.
Milo’s eyebrows ticked up with surprise when Anna slid a hand onto her hip and tugged her closer. Their bodies touched at last, two halves of a locket finally reunited. Anna smoothed away the tremble in her hand and hardened her voice.
“I noticed,” she said.
Milo’s bright mouth quirked. “Did you? And here I thought we were enemies.”
Direct. Did that mean the woman really was here to pry, to steal Roland and Serenoa’s secrets and use them to break down the truce?
“We aren’t enemies,” Anna said. “The war is over.”
“What a pity,” Milo said. “I find that a little animosity can really set the mood.”
Her eyes roamed. Her smile coiled. She slid a hand around Anna’s shoulders, fingers twining in the hair at the nape of Anna’s neck.
Anna fought down the flutter in her chest. Information. She was here for information. Lean in, get the information, get out. That’s what Benedict would tell her to do.
So she did, leaning so far in she could taste the heat of Milo’s lips without actually tasting those lips herself.
“What reason would you still have to hate us?” Anna said.
“Oh, none at all,” Milo said. That hand in Anna’s hair tightened, pulled her a little closer. A hair’s breadth remained between Anna and those cherry red lips. “But you have to admit, it’s quite … exciting.”
Every word was a snake twisting down Anna’s throat, knotting in her gut, oozing with poison. Or perfectly safe, perfectly harmless, the appearance of threat without any actual fangs.
There was only one way Anna would know for sure.
She closed that sparse distance, that gap that was as wide as a single hair and a confounding chasm all at once. Then the heat was more than a whisper, more than a ghost. It was a flood gushing down Anna’s throat and filling her entire body. Every tremble and quaver she’d suppressed all night burst free of their restraints to leave her shivering with stimulation.
She inhaled a desperate breath, and suddenly Milo was all around her, commanding every sense, taking up all the space in this huge, empty closet. There was no escape, but Anna wasn’t sure she’d flee even if she could.
Milo gave Anna’s hair a tug, as though ensuring she didn’t leave. Then she yanked them apart, her body still pressed warmly against Anna’s.
“You don’t taste like an enemy,” Milo said.
Anna burned silently, head swimming worse than if her wine had been real. Yet her thoughts felt clearer than they had all night. If she had to give her report to Benedict right now, she knew what she’d say about the mysterious woman from Hyzante who may or may not have threatened the peace of all Norzelia.
“You don’t taste like an enemy, either,” Anna said.
Milo’s smile curled like smoke. Anna threw herself against it.
What better way to assess her target?