I glanced at my watch. It was nearly eight o'clock, time for the party to begin. I smoothed my black evening gown nervously. I felt rather awkward in the fine material. It just wasn't really like me to wear satin and pearls. In fact, this was the first time in my entire life that I was wearing a dress.

As uncomfortable as it was, I knew that I had to look nice. According to everyone else, I was enjoying an easy job of guarding people. So I forced myself to be natural in the strange fabric.

It's just another part of the mission. Nothing special or different about it.

A new message popped up on my screen from Ty, asking if we were ready. I walked over to the bathroom where Dari was getting ready, my three-inch heels clicking on the floor.

"Are you ready, Dari?" I asked, rapping on the door.

"Almost!"

"It's time to go!"

"I know, I'll be out in a jiff."

I rolled my eyes. Dari never spent very much time getting ready. Unfortunately, today she waited until the last moment before she started getting ready for the party. She'd taken a five minute shower, dried her hair in under three, and was finishing by throwing on her dress and splashing on some make-up, making it a fifteen minute look.

I got another message from Ty. Apparently, they were already meeting people downstairs. My foot tapped impatiently on the floor.

"Okay, I'm done." Dari rushed from the bathroom. I did a double take when I saw her. If we hadn't been so pressed for time, I might have bursted into laughter.

The straps of her moss-green dress were twisted, her eyeshadow was darker on one side than the other, and the top of her head was littered with frizzies. She was a mess.

"Uh, you good?" I asked.

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seem a bit... disheveled."

Dari sighed. "Yeah, perhaps I left it a little late."

"A little late?"

"Okay fine, very late. Now come on, let's go."

She shoved her feet into a pair of boots and headed for the door, not bothering to zip them up.

"Dari, wait. You can't go down like that." I grabbed her arm before she had a chance to open the door.

"Bruh I swear Imma flip if you start pampering me with tons of make-up."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to do that." I dragged her back to the bathroom and plopped her down on the bathroom chair. I plugged in my flat iron and set to work on her make-up. I grabbed a cotton swab and removed the excess shadow and added a little more to each so they looked even. Once the flat iron was heated, I straightened her red hair so it didn't look like straw about to catch on fire. I finished by straightening the spaghetti straps on her dress.

"There, all better. Now put your shoes on properly and let's go."

She complied immediately and we headed to the dining room. When we reached the hotel lobby, I checked the time—against my better judgement.

It was half past eight o'clock. I knew that checking would only frustrate me—Agent X was never late to an engagement—but it was important that Dari looked presentable in front of so many elite people. I supposed I should have hounded her more about getting ready. She never had this problem when she had enough time to properly groom herself.

It dawned on me, as a few of the real Xara's memories flashed through my head, that Dari's habit of getting ready at the last minute had only recently started. And by recently, I mean since I replaced the real Xara. I filed this away to figure out later.

Now is not the time to dwell on the past. Focus on the suspects.

I threw on a pleasant expression. That is, a Xara-pleasant expression, where she didn't look dead inside or like she was about to murder someone. The corners of her mouth were slightly upturned, and there was a slight sparkle in her eyes. I had learned that in order to accomplish the effect, I needed to think happy thoughts, but not allow myself to actually smile. That way I gave off a pleasant vibe, but didn't show too much emotion.

Two attendants dressed in suits opened the doors of the dining room for us. It was like a whole new world had been revealed. All of the tables that normally resided in the room had been removed, except for a long strip that lined the walls, covered in a lace tablecloth and strewn with Hors d'oeuvres and tiny desserts. I supposed that everything's fancier when it's tiny.

In the center of the ceiling was a glass chandelier with eight battery-operated candles. The glowing light cast a dim, golden hue over the room. The bar set up in the opposite corner of the room. Peter Kohler and Markus Bolstad (the delegate from Norway) were there now, sharing a drink. I noticed Finn standing nearby, leaning against the bar nonchalantly. I caught his eye as I walked in, and his pupils swept in Kohler and Bolstad's direction. He's listening in.

I glanced around for Ty and quickly spotted him talking with Franz Freiburg. Jax was nowhere in sight, which was actually a good thing since his assigned station was to watch the surveillance cameras that Dari had hacked into for him. His job was to take out any threats and notify us of anything suspicious.

I couldn't help but feel proud of this operation. I had assigned each job according to my team member's strengths. When Finn wasn't recklessly flying a plane or driving a car, he actually was very good at calmly listening in on conversations. The imposter was likely going to be very guarded in what he or she does around us. By eavesdropping, we could catch the enemy off guard.

Ty preferred to be the center of attention. At his core, Ty was a people-person, which meant that he was better at subtle interrogations in the middle of conversations. He had a way of asking the right questions to find out exactly what we needed to know. So his job was to mingle with the guests.

Jax wasn't the best conversationalist. He did better in jobs that were behind the scenes. But if had to be here, he would be on eavesdropping duty.

Dari was our second eavesdropper. She had personally developed highly sensitive listening devices, which she could surreptitiously attach to a person's coat or dress. It looked like nothing more than a piece of fuzz or lint, so it was rarely discovered. Then, she could hear the whole conversation through a tiny microphone hidden in an earring placed close to her ear. When she was done listening in, she would simply brush past the person and remove it from the subject's clothes.

A number of years ago, Dari had insisted on getting a second ear piercing on the antitragus of her ear for this very purpose. She had perfected the device so that no one else could hear what she was hearing. This listening device also enabled her to keep in contact with Jax, and let us know if anything was going wrong.

And then there's me. I'm sure you can guess what my job was—both listening in and mingling with the guests. But I didn't mind, it wasn't any different from what I normally did.

"Agent Oclen," a voice said. Agent. The word caught me off guard. I hadn't heard a single delegate refer to me as an "agent" throughout the duration of my stay. It was always "Miss Oclen." I turned around to see Mr. la Foie, the ambassador of Belgium. He held a glass filled with a pink liquid precariously in his hand. I couldn't help but think that it was pretty risky to drink something so electric while he was wearing a snow-white suit.

"Hello, Mr. la Foie," I said.

"Greetings! Long time, no see." He chuckled, and I allowed myself to smile a little. Though internally, I was thinking that it wasn't that funny.

"My, it was quite eventful this morning, don't you think? Getting to see all of the library and the national archives..."

"Yes, it was," I said. Quite eventful indeed. We had a battle in the parking lot.

"Oh, and the picnic you brought was superburb. What a charming idea!"

"Thank you. I figured it was easier to provide the refreshments than to coordinate lunch at a restaurant."

"Brilliant as always," Mr. La Foie remarked. "Well, it was nice talking to you."

"You as well."

The Belgian representative bowed slightly before disappearing into the crowd. I took a quick glimpse at my watch, noting that it was a quarter to nine.

I stood rather awkwardly by the refreshments table. In order to avoid suspicion, I picked up one of the tiny Hors d'oeuvres plates and put two tomato, mozzarella, and basil crostinis on it. I then turned around to survey the dining room, lifting the crostini to my mouth while my eyes darted around the room.

"Hey," a voice said. I jumped, whirling around to see Ty. I slapped his arm.

"Does it take too much effort to not sneak up on people?" I said with fake annoyance.

"All in a day's work," he replied, a smile spreading on his face.

"Who have you been talking to?" I asked. I couldn't ask him to divulge any information in such a public place, but it was fairly normal to ask who he'd been speaking with.

"Joao Gomes and Franz Freiburg," he said. "They're nice guys."

I nodded, and began eating the Hors d'oeuvres. My eyes went wide at the flavor. The only way to describe it was expensive—the whole thing just tasted expensive. I could understand luxurious bread and mozzarella, even basil. But in all the seventeen years that I had lived, I never thought I would taste a fancy tomato.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mr. and Mrs. Bachaniello heading in my direction. I gulped down the food in my mouth and smiled slightly.

"Hello Miss Oclen and Mr. Hendol," Mr. Bachaniello said. His wife smiled in greeting, standing slightly behind her husband.

"Hello," I said.

"Enjoying the bruschetta?" the ambassador said with a chuckle. It was no surprise that he took interest in the bruschetta as it was an Italian appetizer. I wondered if it would taste even more luxurious in Italy.

"Yes, it tastes very good."

"That's good. I hear that the head of the appetizer department here is Italian."

"Ah, that probably explains it," Ty said. He picked one up from the platter and ate it in one bite. I wasn't sure if I should be amused at how casually he devoured it or appalled at his bad manners. Fortunately, the Bachaniellos didn't bat an eye.

"I'll have to try one myself. I just need to finish my scallops," Mr. Bachaniello said. He held up his plate, which held two, seared scallops, topped with parsley.

Silence fell over the group for a moment. Before it grew awkward, I said the question that came to my mind.

"Well, are you ready for the conference coming up?"

The Bachaniellos' grins dissipated. They exchanged a glance before Mr. Bachaniello cleared his throat.

"Um, yes," he fumbled. "I'm ready. We just... have had a lot of information to present. My presentation is rather long."

"Oh really?" I remarked. "How long is it?"

His eyebrows lifted. "Oh, don't know. Perhaps half an hour's worth of information. There were many slides to make and data points to memorize. I'm still trying to get it all down."

His response was unusual for two reasons. First, Mr. Bachaniello always had long presentations to make, sometimes more than an hour's worth of material. By this time, he should have been used to it. Second, why didn't he know how long his presentation was? As a diplomat, he always made it his duty to time his presentations. He found that it made him more precise, and ensured that he wasn't going over his allotted time slot. The fact that he was so prospecting was cause for concern.

Mrs. Bachaniello smiled slightly, threading her arm around his. "We've been very busy lately."

There was something off, I just knew it. They were acting so strangely, both today and yesterday. All I had to do now was find out why. Unfortunately, the "why" was always the hardest to find out.

"Oh, Xara! Would you and your crew do us the honor of joining us tomorrow night for dinner?" My attention snapped back to Mr. Bachaniello.

"Oh, yes! We would love to," I quickly said.

"Where will it be held?" Ty asked.

"We'll host you in our hotel room," Mr. Bachaniello told us. "We'll take care of all of the arrangements, just come and be your best selves."

His wife beamed. "Yes, we would be honored to have you."

"We would love to dine with you as well," Ty said. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. He must have noticed that I was unnerved, since his eyes motioned in Mr. and Mrs. Bachaniello's direction. Say something, he seemed to say.

"Yes," I agreed, trying not to sound distracted.

"Marvelous! Just come to room number two-hundred and forty at eight o'clock," Mr. Bachaniello said.

"We will be there," Ty assured him.

"Thank you, we'll see you then." The representative glanced at his watch. "Well, it was nice speaking with you. I think we'll converse with a few more delegates and then head to bed. Have a wonderful evening."

"You too," Ty said. I smiled in agreement. Mr. and Mrs. Bachaniello returned the smile before disappearing into the crowd.

That was strange... he said that he wanted us to be our "best selves." Why would he say that? What does that mean? It was such an odd remark to say to one's guests.

There was probably a logical explanation. There had to be. And at the dinner, I hoped to find out just what that explanation was.

It was now nine p.m, and I still had not spoken with the main person I had come to speak with. I glanced around and soon spotted a woman wearing a tight pink gown, accessorized with a nine-diamond necklace. I recognized her immediately as Miss Monpelie, laughing with a young fellow with shaggy blond hair. I made eye contact with her, and she smiled at me and waved me over. Ty and I crossed over to her.

"Hello again, Miss Oclen, Mr. Hendol" she said.

"Hello Miss Monpelie," I greeted.

"Hi," Ty said.

"This is Monsieur Leon DeCroi. He's my escort for the party."

That was more like the Roselle Monpelie I knew. She always had an escort to social gatherings or to accompany her around a city.

"Pleased to meet you," I said.

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Oclen," Monsieur DeCroi cooed. He took my gloved hands and gently kissed them.

At least I'm wearing gloves, I thought. As I caught a glimpse of Ty out of the corner of my eye, I added, and at least I'm not the real Xara.

"Nice to meet you," Ty said. Monsieur DeCroi started to extend his hand, but Ty jokingly said, "Oh, I'll just take a hand shake."

DeCroi chuckled nervously. I picked up a glass of punch from the table to keep myself from laughing.

Madame Monpelie grinned. At least she had a sense of humor. "So, Miss Oclen, I assume you've been on lots of exciting missions since I last worked with you."

I nearly spit out my punch and bursted into laughter. It wasn't the smartest to drink something to prevent yourself from laughing. Nope! In the past year, I have lived my life in a total of five rooms.

But I simply nodded politely in response.

"Ah really! Why don't you tell me about one?"

My heart nearly dropped in my chest. I forced my muscles to not tense up, to not freeze in front of the diplomat.

"They haven't been all that interesting. We have mainly done some light guarding duty and file transfers." Not entirely true, but I didn't want to go into the more intense cases Agent X had done.

"It sounds positively riveting," Miss Monpelie said.

"And how has your work been going?" Ty asked. "I understand that you recently negotiated a treaty between France and Germany."

"Yes, I did. Mr. Freiburg has been most agreeable to work with."

"What were the details of it?" Ty asked. "I mean, what sorts of things were you compromising on?"

"Oh, nothing in particular," Miss Monpelie stated. "Just general terms of trade agreements."

"Ah yes, trade," Ty commented. "What sorts of terms were outlined?"

Miss Monpelie began to detail the sorts of issues that the two ambassadors had tried to troubleshoot. Ty listened attentively, though when I glanced down at his hand, I noticed that he clutched a shiny, silver dollar between his fingers. He was recording everything she said. He must have discussed this topic with Mr. Freiburg at breakfast yesterday, or perhaps just now, and was going to compare the two recordings for inconsistencies.

That gave me the opportunity to observe the other guests. As I scanned the room, I saw that Finn had shifted his position to strategically be near Mr. Bolstad and Mr. Kohler, who were still talking with each other while eating mini fruit tarts. Dari was subtly looking in the direction of Sarah Norris and Linda Clavel. She held her hands clasped behind her back, pointing towards Mahlee Omni and Nadya Czechlokvia. She was likely recording their conversation on her wrist watch so she could review it later. I couldn't help but be impressed by her efficiency—she was literally catching two conversations at once.

"Isn't that so interesting, Xara?" I snapped my attention to Ty, forcing myself to look as casual as humanly possible.

"Yes, very," I commented. I felt like an idiot.

Miss Monpelie beamed. Either she didn't notice that I hadn't been paying attention, or she chose to ignore it.

"Well, I'm glad that you're enjoying hearing about this. I can't say that I would be interested in the subject if it weren't for my career."

"That's how most things are, my dear," Monsieur DeCroi said smoothly.

"I suppose." Her eyes fell to her gold watch, then quickly flew up again.

Is she trying to hide that she looked at her watch? Why would she do that?

Miss Monpelie reached for a grilled artichoke set out on the table. She chewed it slowly and downed a cocktail afterwards. I sipped on my punch, trying to think of something to break the silence.

"Oh, do excuse me for one moment. I must utilize the facilities. I will be back shortly," she told us.

"Go right ahead," Ty said.

"Yes, I'll wait right here, my dear," Monsieur DeCroi added.

Miss Monpelie hurried from the room.

Is she perhaps heading to a renderoux? Perhaps with... WAOIC?

I wouldn't know until I had a chance to thoroughly question her. I turned my attention to her accompaniment, Monsieur DeCroi. Was he the imposter's accomplice? Was he with WAOIC too, along to assist in with opposition forces?

Only time would tell.

"So, Monsieur DeCroi, what sorts of activities do you like doing?" Ty enquired.

"I enjoy playing golf in my spare time," the man said. Some of his charm seemed to have dissipated since Miss Monpelie left, like he wasn't trying as hard to impress us. It was no surprise. Afterall, many people have tried to get in good with diplomats.

"Oh, wow! Golf!" Ty exclaimed. "That's so cool!"

Once again, I nearly spit out my punch in laughter. Ty hated golf with everything inside of him. It was so slow moving, and it drove him insane when he was playing with people who took long pauses to think about their next move. He was more into tennis. That way, he could keep moving at all times.

"Yes, do you play?"

"I would, but I'm not very good at it."

"Ah, but playing is how you improve!" Mr. DeCroi said. "You can't get better if you don't practice."

Ty looked like a chicken preparing to be roasted in an oven. "Very true."

"Why don't we play golf before you leave Belgium? Just a friendly match."

"Sure! I'd love to!" Ty said this with so much enthusiasm that I nearly believed him. But more likely, he'd love to be able to find out if he was an agent of WAOIC or not.

"I'm back." I turned to see Miss Monpelie returning from the restroom.

"Ah! Hello, my dear," Monsieur DeCroi said.

He slipped his arm back around her waist and gave her a kiss.

They're quite cozy with each other, more so than other escorts that Miss Monpelie has had. I wonder how long they have known each other...

A new idea began to take shape. Even if Madame wasn't the imposter agent, Monsieur DeCroi certainly could have been. He could have befriended her in order to lure her into a trap. Then, she could be replaced by the imposter. It certainly would explain why they were acting so close with each other.

The chandeliers dimmed to a low flicker, casting shadows around the room. Soft jazz music filled the room.

A voice came over the speakers. "Ladies and gentlemen, we shall now have a dance. Please, for all our non-dancers, make your way to the edges of the room to maximize the space for our couples."

"Can we dance, darling?" Madame Monpelie asked.

"Of course, my dear," Monsieur DeCroi said.

"We'll talk to you later," Ty said. "And hopefully set up a time for golf."

"Yes," Monsieur Decroi agreed. The two waved before gliding to the center of the room.

I watched Madame as she began to flow with the music. She was always a very fluid dancer. I wondered if it was difficult dancing in the four inch heels that she always wore, or if the chunky earrings that hung from her ears hurt.

Finally, my eyes fell on her necklace. Her long, expensive, eight-diamond necklace. It was quite lovely, though it seemed the slightest bit lopsided...

I squinted, leaning in every so slightly as I inspected her necklace. A lightbulb went off in my brain.

"Let's dance, Ty," I said aloud.

Ty's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Oh, I was just thinking it might be nice," I said. In a low voice and barely moving mouth, I added, "I think we've found our imposter."

He quickly put his hand on my waist and we stepped onto the dance floor. I had never danced before, but I figured it would help to mask our conversation.

"Who, what, when, where, why, how?" Ty said.

I rolled my eyes. "I'll answer two of those questions. Who is it: Madame Monpelie. How do I know: her necklace."

"Her necklace?"

"Yes, when she left for the restroom, it had nine diamonds on it. When she returned, it had eight."

"Woah, that's brilliant," Ty said with a laugh. "Who the heck would think to count the number of diamonds on a person's necklace?"

"I guess I would. Or Agent X..."

At the mention of his love's name, his face fell.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to bring her up."

"Naw, you're good." He tried to straighten up, but I could see the sadness in his eyes.

"We can stop dancing now. That's all I needed to say."

"Okay."

We stopped and walked over to the sweets table. As I picked up a tartlet, I thought about the revelation we'd just found out. There certainly was something fishy about Miss Monpelie. And tomorrow, we'd find out exactly what was going on. Tomorrow, we would follow her.