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At four o'clock Edward Oxford made his way half way up Constitution hill to the north side of the Palace. He knew the way Victoria's coach would travel to Hyde Park. The Royals were so pathetically predictable and it irked him. His father had never been predictable a day in his life and it been a constant source of torture for his mother. Edward considered himself an excellent student in all things that mattered and he had learnt that torture had its uses. So, on the anniversary of his father's death eleven years ago, he would honour the man who had taught him his first lessons in life.

He felt the pistols rub against the thin linen of his gambroon trousers as he walked past the gates of Buckingham Palace and joined the milling crowds around the Marble Arch. It had been reported that Albert had attended Woolwich Dockyard alone earlier that afternoon and Edward was anxious to see if the Queen would be present for her evening ride. He had not gone to such devious and extravagant lengths to be foiled now.

Edward watched Albert's carriage roll up the Pall Mall and into Buckingham knowing that it would not be much longer until his moment arrived. Surely the young Queen would be waiting for her consort before leaving the Palace grounds. It was pitiful really that a woman controlled the country when the most she should be allowed to control was a household. Edward laughed to himself and disconcerted bystanders shifted uncomfortably around him. He didn't care. It was almost time.

At six when the sun hung low to the ground, the Palace gates opened with a loud groan of metal, and the procession emerged. Two outriders cantered forth and soon after Edward glimpsed the Prince and Queen in a droshky pulled by four white horses with two equerries trailing behind. They turned sharply left and travelled up the hill towards him, with the walls of the Palace gardens on their left and the palings of Green Park on their right. Edward removed the pistols from his pockets and tucked them into his armpits under the cover of his coat, stooping low to give the impression of a hunched appearance. A curious couple eyed him suspiciously but did nothing and he nodded to them with a sneer before pushing his way to the front of the crowd. His fingers itched over the trigger but he remembered Hadfield's advice and quietened his mind. He needed a clear head and a steady hand to topple the monarchy. It would take a single man with a single purpose, and that man would be him.

The carriage was almost before him and as Victoria's attention was distracted by a soldier on horseback, Prince Albert's gaze met his own and narrowed. Edward smirked and raised his first pistol in a dueller's stance, aiming between the haughty blue eyes of the Queen of England.

~

Verushka paused at the top of Grosvenor Place and saw the entire scene unfold before her. She peered over the Duke of Wyvernstone's shoulder at the immense throng of people between her and the Queen and it gripped her soul with fear. Her brother had obviously ridden like a man possessed and found her, footsore and frenzied as she was running through Westminster. He had tossed her upon his horse and took her back through the streets he had come with singular purpose. Her mission was to find the assassin, and find him she did.

"Jay!" Verushka whispered urgently. "There, there!" She indicated the man stooping awkwardly within yards of the Queen.

Jay's gaze followed the tip of her pointed finger and located the culprit as he slowly withdrew his weapon. Jay's horse reared and bucked between the pressing crowds and he knew there was no way to make it to Victoria in time. At the corner of his right eye he saw three policeman who he recognised from Division A running through Green Park and vaulting over the palings that separated the park from the road. Someone had alerted them into action but even as they pushed through the excited teeming crowd, he knew that they would not make it in time. However, to his left a commotion drew the attention of both the crowds and the Queen.

Marco's eager equine stampeded through Green Park Arch and brought down steel-rimmed hooves with such a thud that it cleared a path before him. Jay scanned the crowd quickly for any secondary or tertiary threats while Marco bought them all some time. It would not do to run headlong into a situation without knowing the parameters. That was how Agent's ended up shot in the back, or worse. Before Jay could turn to help his ward dismount, she was on the ground and dashing through the gaps towards the assassin with nothing but her wits. Jay frowned. Marco, Verushka and himself had formed an unlikely triumvirate and he found himself having to trust his ward to waylay the assassin with whatever skills the Director had imbued her with. Calm and collected, he surveyed the scene in swift seconds before starting to alight and follow her into the pressing crowds.

A shot went off and to the untrained ear there was only one. However, Jay heard the second almost instantaneous blast that levelled from Marco's long barrelled rifle and he halted upon his horse. Oxford had shot at the Queen and missed. Marco's bullet had thrown the assassin sideways making him momentarily unsteady on his feet. However, as the Royal Carriage halted amidst the chaos, Oxford appeared to regain his footing and raised himself once more.

Jay's eyes flickered to the Queen who knelt shielded behind the Prince. Her consort was well trained to be her final and greatest safeguard. Albert moved to jump from the vehicle in pursuit of the assailant but Jay had seen that the danger had not yet abated and caught the Prince's eye above the crowds. He shook his head once firmly and Albert remained to shield the Queen as Edward Oxford withdrew his second pistol with greater care than the first and began to take aim.

Verushka dodged the last onlooker and threw her body against the gunman with all the force that she could muster. The pistol scattered from his hand across the floor, lost between the feet of several people who were torn between watching the commotions beneath them, the carriage before them and the Spanish soldier looming behind them. Oxford flayed her with a furious glare and scrambled after his weapon. Verushka grappled for his ankle and seized upon the edge of his trouser leg with wide clawing hands. Oxford yelled in frustration, his fingertips just short of his prize. He turned back to the young maid with a madness that threatened to consume him. His right arm ached as it scraped against the floor, bleeding from the bullet that had come out of nowhere. Pain seared into his shoulder and he twisted to escape the hand clamped around his leg. He kicked blindly and felt it connect with a solid but soft female form. He cared little for the maid's welfare. He was going to kill the Queen.

Verushka was flung backwards, the breath knocked cleanly from her body. She turned for help, spotting the Spanish Captain in the distance. Marco sat solemnly on his steed above the thronging mass and she knew that as they rumbled beneath the feet of the crowds, he would not be able to achieve a clear shot. The mass of people surrounding them scuffled with one another in fear, anger and a futile patriotic effort to apprehend a gunman that they did not see to begin with. Whatever Marco was doing here, he had to be their eyes in the sky, poised for action and ready for danger from all sides. Jay would no doubt be there in mere seconds, but for the present time she was on her own and she would not go down quietly. It had never been in her to fail, and she was not going to start now.

Ignoring the pulsing pain in her gut, Verushka gripped the cobblestone floor and crawled back towards the assassin. His hand had almost closed around the pistol when someone in the crowd kicked it further into the masses. That single moment of fortune gave Verushka hope and she launched once more at the assassin. She may have been recently classed as a debutant, but at her core she was a maid, and maids often saw their fair share of barnyard brawls. She balled up her fist and rammed it as hard as she could into the man's side and scrambled over the top of him to seize the gun herself.

Oxford yelped in surprise and clutched at the dull ache. He had underestimated the maid's determination but as she clamoured past, he gripped her right wrist with a force that threatened to crush and she flinched in distress. The agony in her eyes thrilled him and as she raised her left arm to hit him once more, he released her abruptly and went for the small blade he had tucked into his boot.

Verushka fell as the assassin let go of her wrist and her head smacked the cold stone floor beneath her. Her gaze swam before her and she thought that she had been fighting for long interminable minutes instead of what was more likely to be seconds that had flashed by in a cacophony of time. Shafts of light penetrated through the shadowed silhouettes above her and with it came the rising pressure of hundreds of voices shouting at once. Verushka frantically pushed herself up from the gritty debris of the well-worn ground and tasted the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. She almost imagined that she glimpsed her brother racing in her direction, a few feet away from Oxford and believed herself saved. It was then that the dying sun glinted off a well shone dagger that was raised above her throat and Verushka knew that if any saving were to be done, she would have to save herself.

Edward Oxford brought down the blade with all the hatred pounding in his veins. He looked into the maid's eyes to absorb the exhilaration of her defeat, but he did not see defeat in the steely grey. He saw determination.

The dagger plunged towards her and Verushka raised her hand to meet it. She felt the sharp edge slice through her palm and she gripped the object of her pain and pulled. With a strength drawn from pure will, she pried the blade from the assassin's hands and it clattered to the floor. A boot she recognised stepped over the implement and grabbed a fistful of Oxford's shirt and coat. Jay wore a look as icy as the depths of winter and he leaned in to whisper something in the man's ear.

Verushka did not stop to listen. Blood poured from her hand and the sight as well as the agony of it made her ill. But, she could not pause for it to ebb. She balled up her hand into a fist to stem the bleeding and looked frantically around. The gun had to be retrieved. She spotted the steel laying close to the trim of a female's expensive gown and crouched low to the ground as she shuffled forward. Verushka furtively checked her surroundings and reached for the weapon, but the woman suddenly shifted and stood upon the gun with a purposeful slippered foot and stared down at her.

"Tsk, tsk," Lady Bianca cooed. "If you do that, how will the Queen die?"

Before Verushka could mask her astonishment, Bianca's eyes narrowed with the fast flowing fire of the gossip trail. "Ah, what do we have here? Miss Wyvernstone. I knew you were more than what you seemed. I have seen you before. You were the belle of your cousin's ball and now here you are, lying beneath me in the dirt. Don't tell me you are wrapped up in this drama. How far the mighty do fall, which is something you are about to learn from your Queen."

Verushka heard a commotion over her right shoulder as three uniformed policeman arrived and fell upon Oxford with fists flying. Several citizens in the crowd seemed to consider this as their cue to rise up in defence of their Queen and grabbed at both Jacob and Oxford, not knowing who was saviour or sinner. The unexpected onslaught pushed Oxford out of Jacob's grasp and threw the assassin several paces backwards. Lady Bianca casually stooped to pick up the gun as Oxford tumbled towards her feet. Verushka watched Jay as he attempted to grapple with the police to form a united front and in those unguarded seconds, Bianca placed the gun into Oxford's open palm. His eyes met hers, and Verushka knew theirs was not an alliance that was newly formed.

Oxford uncrumpled his body and took aim at the Queen for a second time. Verushka launched upon him as Jay's sudden weight pushed all three of them to the ground and a single shot resounded close to her ear. Verushka's eyes searched frantically for Victoria and found her safe, behind Albert in her carriage twenty feet away. Her gaze darted back and forth searching for the victim of the bullet that went wide off its mark, but no staggering form drew her eye.

It was a halting breath that caught her attention and Verushka turned to find Lady Bianca fallen, clutching at her chest, now blossoming with fresh blood. Jay wrestled the empty pistol from the assassin and bound his hands tightly with iron cuffs handed to him by the police. Bruised and bloody, Oxford still appeared as valiant as if he had won.

"This is only the beginning," he grunted as Jay pulled him roughly to his feet.

As soon as Verushka saw that the assassin was secured she crept to Lady Bianca's side. The once refined lady, lay splayed on the floor with a ring of onlookers watching her blood seep slowly into the cracks between the cobblestones. Verushka remembered what Liara had said about her, remembered all the hate that Bianca was reported to have for the Queen who had stolen her love. Perhaps it was fate that the bullet she desperately wanted buried into a royal heart had found her own. But, Verushka also knew what it was like to love without the hope of a happy ending. And Love made people do strange and terrible things.

She knelt next to Bianca's ebbing form and enfolded the Lady's hand into her own. "Try to breath, Lady Bianca."

"No, no," Bianca spluttered and coughed with a throat thick with blood.

"Ssh, it's okay, Lady Bianca. It's going to be okay." Verushka softened, attempting to soothe her, unsure of what to do. She was certainly no physician and there seemed little chance of getting one in time.

"I just wanted-," Bianca croaked painfully. Thin streams of tears fell from the corners of her eyes as the lids threatened to close.

"I know," Verushka nodded, and somehow she did. Life with a broken heart was a terrifying prospect. Hers. Her mothers. Bianca's. So many hearts shattered. Lady Bianca's choice in dealing with her pain was certainly wrong but she was dying, and no one deserved to die alone. Verushka tightened her grip reassuringly. "I know. You loved him."

Bianca nodded and her eyes rolled briefly to the sky before returning with a glimmer of remorse. "Don't tell him about-. He... remember me. Promise." She uttered staccato words between coughs and ragged breaths.

"I promise." Verushka nodded. "The Prince will remember you as you were. Grief can make strangers of ourselves. You have my promise."

Bianca's body relaxed a little and with a tremoring hand she reached for a pocket sewn secretly into the seam of her dress. She clutched at two keys and placed them into Verushka's palm. "Not. Only. Me."

Verushka clasped Bianca's hands fervently, the metal biting into flesh on either side. "Not only you? Then who?"

Bianca's mouth opened and a muffled groan of pain emerged.

Verushka leaned in closer and lifted Bianca up against her chest. Empty breaths of air met painful, torturous retches and the hand that clutched Verushka's went slack. Verushka held Bianca close as the life slipped from her body and she willed herself to never forget the moment. She had never experienced death in such an intimate, devastating way. It bit into her soul, as sharp and as fragile as the tip of a knife.

This woman who she barely knew, who was by all accounts a vindictive and uncaring creature, was still a woman in grief. She had loved a man who had married another and Verushka could not help but compare her own mother to Lady Bianca. How much could the heart take before it no longer held the form it once did? If circumstances were different, would it have been her mother on the floor, in her arms, bleeding into the dirt? Life was full of intricacies, a maze of emotions and actions and there was no longer a clear path to good and evil. Verushka knew it was her mission to unravel the secrets of the ballroom, but what she was really doing was unearthing the mysteries of people's hearts. There was never a crime without causation and Bianca was a testament to that.

Verushka heard her brother approach and she quickly pocketed the keys. She gently lay Bianca on the ground and whispered to her empty vessel. "I promise."

"Ver, are you safe?!" Jay exclaimed and picked Verushka up, crushing her to his chest. "Are you okay?"

Verushka sniffed into his shirt, drawing comfort from his care. She wondered if he knew their mother, knew her heartache or how she died? "I'm okay."

"You are covered in blood," he frowned, concerned as he assessed her wounds at arms length.

"It's Bianca's... well, mostly."

"Yes, I saw. Rinehart will have to be told as soon as possible. But, for now we must leave, and quickly. Scotland Yard's Division A can handle this now." He pressed a clean, white handkerchief into her still oozing hand and they ducked and weaved through the crowds which were far more interested in the man being apprehended and the Royal carriage which was once again making its way up Constitution Hill towards Hyde Park.

"Where are we going?" Verushka yanked on his arm as he dragged her left in the direction of Belgrave.

"I should have thought that was obvious. We are going to see the Queen."

Despite the blood seeping through the cloth in Verushka's hand and the dull continuous pains all over her body, she met Jay step for step. It wasn't the first time that she had run through London that day and she doubted that it would be her last.

~

A well-dressed man with a hidden scar watched their progression through the crowds from the southernmost corner of Hyde Park. The day had certainly not proceeded according to plan and it seemed that several pawns were attempting to topple his perfectly constructed board. Victoria had encountered the bullets he had orchestrated with courage, and her calm in the face of danger was instantly rewarded. The young Queen's political pandering and radical notions were forgotten as she directed her convoy to ride on rather than seek the safety of the Palace. In aiming to complete her usual ride, she was reassuring her people and they supported her as never before. He watched as the sheep gathered around her, cheering her praises and singing her refrains. He schooled the sneer of disgust from his face and kicked spurred heels into his horse's flanks. The battle was over, but perhaps in time, he could still win the war.

~
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Dear Agents!

I have a challenge for you, should you choose to accept it!

But first, what did you think about the long awaited assassination attempt? Did it go the way that you expected?

The times, and progression of Queen Victoria's carriage, as well as Oxford's placement, even down to his hunched appearance before pulling the trigger is all historically accurate. Queen Victoria wrote about the event in her journal but she lost sight of Oxford when he was "surrounded and seized" by officials. Perhaps those officials included Jay and Ver ;)

The ending is almost upon us, and I can promise three things.

1. There will be a wedding

2. There will be a twist

3. There will be a broken heart

Thanks to all my dear readers who have followed the journey of these characters so far. I put a lot of heart, soul and research into this story and I appreciate your votes and comments more than I can say. It's the only way I know that you are enjoying this book.

SO... DO YOU WANT THE NEXT CHAPTER NOW?! Do you want to see Verushka face the Queen and more importantly Cain?

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Glossary:

Marble Arch: This was originally designed to be the state entrance to Buckingham Palace but was moved to its present location outside of Hyde Park in 1851 when its openings were deemed too small for state coaches.

Droshky: A low carriage that render the occupants fully visible

Gambroon: A cotton and worsted fabric used typically for men's jackets and trousers.