Lena Sanders had returned home late the night before and was still fast asleep when Harris Ma jolted her awake with a shove. "Boss! Boss! The Prince Heir—he's outside! Right outside!"
Before she even opened her eyes, Lena smacked him squarely on the head. "What's all this screaming about!"
"It's—the Prince Heir!" Harris's voice dropped nearly two octaves, but he still pointed toward the courtyard, stammering, "The Prince Heir himself!"
Lena sat up in a flash and gave him another slap. "Quiet!"
"Mmph… Prince Heir…" Harris clapped a hand over his mouth but still managed to mumble the words, gesturing toward the door in frantic emphasis.
Lena ignored him, slid into her shoes, raked her fingers through her hair, yawned, and stepped out into the courtyard.
There, standing in the middle with his hands clasped behind his back, was Gavin Shea. He turned as she came out, his expression difficult to read. Taking two steps forward, he gave a polite bow.
"Miss Li."
"You came because of the assassins?" Lena stifled another yawn.
"Yes. Four last night?" Gavin's brows knitted slightly.
"Two the first night, three the next, four last night. Their skill's mediocre. Tell me, how much do you know about Castleton's assassin guilds?" Lena glanced around, pulled two bamboo chairs under the eaves, and motioned for him to sit.
"Very little. Certainly not as much as you would."
Gavin sat, studying her face as she seated herself beside him. "If Castleton has a guild, it should resemble those elsewhere. You, Miss Li, seem quite familiar with such matters. Your martial style—it's of the assassin's path."
Lena was silent a moment, then lowered her eyes. "Your Highness once asked about my past. I didn't answer—because I don't know. I floated down the river to Riverford City, tangled among driftwood. Harris and the others fished me out; I was barely alive, and they saved me. There was a wound on my head, and when I recovered, I remembered nothing. Nothing but the clothes on me—and this sword."
She drew the slender sword and handed it to Gavin.
"It was bound tight against my arm. The sheath matches the color of skin—or perhaps it is human skin. Its fit, its thickness, every curve perfect. Easy to draw, easy to conceal."
Gavin examined it closely, then returned it. "A remarkable blade—rare and priceless."
"Yes. Yet to this day, I remember nothing."
"These killers—they're after the person you once were," Gavin said, his tone calm but certain.
"That's what I think. But since I can't recall, I can only uncover the truth myself." Lena smiled faintly.
"Would you have my help?" Gavin asked quietly.
"Not for now." Lena shook her head. "Perhaps what I find will not be fit to share with others. I appreciate Your Highness's concern."
"Then be cautious." Gavin rose, took a step, then paused to look back at her. "Your hand bolts—those small arrows are difficult to forge. Have you found a craftsman in Castleton who can make them? If not, I can have some made for you."
Lena hesitated, then nodded. "If it's convenient—make a hundred. The bolts from yesterday and the day before are still with you?"
"Yes. I'll have them sent in a few days." Gavin inclined his head. "I'll take my leave."
Lena followed him out to the gate and stopped there, watching as his guards stretched in two sharp lines down the alley and out toward the street, cold and motionless, their presence like drawn blades. She pressed a hand to her brow.
So this was not a visit of concern—it was a display. He'd come to show the world that the Prince Heir stood with her, that she was under his protection. A warning to those lurking in the shadows.
A show of power.
Lena sighed, turned back—and nearly ran into Harris Ma's shining, overexcited face.
Hands pressed to his chest, he looked ready to burst. Meeting her gaze, he nodded frantically. "Boss, you didn't see it! From the alley mouth all the way here—what an awe-inspiring sight! Heaven help me, our Prince Heir—so grand! So glorious! So majestic! Absolutely magnificent!"
Lena didn't even bother with an eye roll; she simply walked around him to wash up.
Jack Golden had gone out early to scout and buy breakfast. By the time he returned, Lena had washed and brushed her teeth, and the Prince Heir had long departed.
Harris, finding a new audience, latched onto Jack and launched into an ecstatic retelling of His Highness's splendor and the deadly aura of his retinue. Jack leaned so far back he was nearly horizontal, twisting and turning to dodge the spray of spittle as he set packages of food on the table—crystal dumplings, minced-fish soup buns, and more.
Whatever "majesty" Harris described, Jack couldn't feel it—only Harris's saliva splattering across his face.
Darren Chang calmly grabbed Harris by the collar, lifted him, and set him outside in the courtyard.
Jack sighed in relief and wiped his face dry with his sleeve.
Lena took the crystal dumplings, told Darren to crush some garlic and pour vinegar, then added a plain bun and began eating her breakfast.
Even Harris, after being dumped outside, dared not approach Jack again. He crouched beside Lena, grabbed a meat bun, and bit into it fiercely.
Jack dragged over a chair, sat on Lena's other side, and began reporting what he'd seen that morning.
"When I arrived, everything was cleaned up already. The carriages from Le Ze Garden had just left. Looked like a pack of stray dogs had been put down—nothing else."
His report was short and to the point.
"If we'd failed, it'd look the same," Darren muttered darkly.
"We're different!" Harris burst out. "We've got the Prince Heir! If we ever failed, that scene would shake the heavens!"
No one—not Lena, not Jack—bothered replying.
"Boss, we need a plan," Darren said at last, frowning. "Three nights in a row, and each wave stronger than the last. If this continues—what if we slip just once?"
"No need to worry yet. Yesterday's two tea cakes—they're a small clue." Lena's tone was calm.
"But there wasn't a single mark on them," Jack said through a mouthful of soy-braised duck. "Tea cakes are everywhere—tea houses, taverns, brothels, even households. Everyone drinks tea."
"Didn't the boss say before—tea houses make the best cover for assassin guilds?" Harris snapped back immediately.
"Then we start with the tea houses," Lena said, rising. "It's about opening time. Eat quickly—we'll sweep through every tea house in Castleton, one by one."
After finishing her last few bites of crystal dumpling, Lena told Darren to mind the house. Then, taking Harris and Jack with her, she set out—beginning with the tea house nearest home.