| Chapter Twenty-Seven | Graces of Gods |

  It never rained in the deserts of Azourn, at least not in a very-long time, since before the sun dried the oceans and lakes and rivers and streams that once covered the now dry and desolate wastelands she knew as home.  She never realized just how spectacular it was to watch the clouds roll in, thunderously grey and ominous, as the dewy smell of rain wafted over them.  Not a single of them realized how much they had missed something as simple as falling water from the sky.

  "Hey," the prince says quietly, stepping onto the porch, running a hand through his hair.

  It was not long after the orcs left before she had slipped outside, sitting on the floor of the old wooden porch.  While the rest of the world slept, warm beneath their sheets, heads rested on soft-feathered pillows, she was wide awake.  She sat there all night, and there she sat as the sun began to rise in the morning.  Even surrounded by an entire city filled with hundreds of thousands of citizens, she never felt more alone, more trapped.  Trapped with thoughts that plagued her.

  "Hey," she whispers, but she does not look at him, she barely even acknowledges him at all.

  It did not surprise him, not in the slightest, but a small part of him wished that she would talk to him.  The prince slowly eases his body onto the floor, sitting only a few feet away from her.  He understood her silence though.  Sometimes a person has to go through their own emotions and issues and traumas by themselves, he understood that, he has done that himself all those times his father had him locked away in his dungeons.  Still, he would sit there, just in case she could not do it alone.  Just in case she needed him.

  In all of her years as the king's assassin, her only focus was on those she was ordered to take care of; to make disappear.  In hindsight, she should have known that it was not just her victims whose lives were altered by her orders, but their families as well.  She should have known that one day, she would meet those whom hated her most of all — the ones she never even realized existed.  She should have known that eventually, the sins from her past would catch up to her.  In hindsight, she just felt incredibly foolish. 

  Before she even knew it, she was watching normal people live their normal lives.  Across the sandstone street was a house, just like the one they sat in now, except trolls lived there.  A troll woman stood outside, unclipping her linens from a clothesline, her head tilted up to the cloudy sky.  A troll man stood on the porch, a baby on one arm with a pot in the other as he spoke to the woman.  She found that a part of herself longed for what they had; a sense of normalcy.  It physically hurt her chest when she realized that would never be possible, especially now that she had finally accepted the fact that there would always be people out there who wanted her dead, which in many senses, was far from normal.

  However, she was not the only one struggling with their own inner afflictions, and she thought about them too.  She thought about how Raiali blamed himself for everything that had happened to them since they made it out of the tunnels.  She thought about how little Lilura valued her own life and was willing to trade her life so that the rest of them could live.  She thought about how Leonidas had finally become a better man and that as soon as her king's heart stood still he would be sent back to his father who would tear him apart until he was nothing.  She could not help but think about all of them.

  "How are you feeling?" Adara asks, turning her gaze onto him, staring at his bandages.

  "I'm okay," the prince says quietly, tugging his sleeve down to cover his wrist, sighing.

  If he was honest with himself, he was far from okay, he was not sure if he could ever truly be okay ever again.  He thought that he was truly going to die, he had been prepared to face death so that they could live, but he had not expected how it would make him feel.  Empty and alone.  He always thought that dying would be like a thousand-weights lifted from his shoulders, but instead he had just felt heavy like a sinking ship.  He had suddenly been burdened with fear and hopelessness and he had never expected that, not in a million years.

  "How about you?" The prince asks, using his nails to scrape chipped paint from the floor.

  "How about me?" Adara murmurs, leaning her head against the wall, "I've been better."

  No one wanted to admit it, but they had hit a low.  This low seemed to be deeper than the deepest pits at the bottom of the ocean floor.  This low was so deep that they could scarcely see the sunlight from beneath the waves no matter how hard that they squinted.  This low was drowning them, one person at a time.  No one was sure where they were supposed to go from this moment on.  Not even their gods could tell them what to do.

  Both of them looked up though at the sound of footsteps in the house behind them, the sound of the doorknob turning haunted them.

  As the door opened, the tension that had built within their bones suddenly slackened.  It was only Raiali, his eyes glancing between the two nervously.  He treated them as though they were explosives, one wrong move and they would explode.  They were nothing but bottled up aggression and fear, and those were dangerous when put together.  He knew that once one blew, the rest would soon follow, and he had to avoid that.  So, even though he had no clue as to what he could do, he simply did what he knew how.

  "Breakfast is ready," Raiali says, holding the door open, "come and get it while it's hot"

  "You actually cooked?" Adara frowned.

  "How else would breakfast be ready?" Raiali asks, "do you truly think so little of me?"

  For a moment, he swore he saw a smile on her face that matched the laugh that came out of the prince.  It was the first time any of them had done anything other than sulk.  He considered it a win as they stood.  The prince was shaky on his feet, holding tightly onto the wall as he walks inside without saying a word.  Adara however, stood gently in the doorway, smiling gently at Raiali.  She knew what he was trying to do, to give them a sense of normalcy and a splash of happiness, but she would be damned if she admitted to him that it was working.

  "How is she?" Adara asks as she steps into the threshold, her eyes stare at the remnants of yesterday; nothing but small broken pieces.

  "About as well as the rest of us," Raiali says quietly, "she just won't talk about it."  He hesitated, "she won't talk about anything."

  "She will," Adara says quietly, "it might take hours or days or even weeks," she whispers as she pulls him into a hug, "but she will."

  She could feel it in his shoulders, how tense he was, how tired he had been.  He carried all of their weight on his back, and it was heavier than he could carry.  It did not help that he blamed himself even though all he wanted to do was get them the help he could not give.  He could not have known whom he was handing them over to.  Adara took a step back, giving his shoulder a squeeze.  She figured she would have to take some of the load off of him soon enough; she did not exist to be a burden to him.  She loved him like a father, but neither she or the prince was not his responsibility.  She refused to be the reason for his pain and worry.

  Upon entering the kitchen, they were greeted by the high-pitched whine of Nacajii, drool dripping from her open jaws as she paced around the room.  Meanwhile, Exriam crawled across the wooden table, his eyes fixating on the plates of food as he hissed.  Adara found it almost funny, but Raiali on the other hand, did not; he did not find it funny at all.

  "Oh no," Raiali grit his teeth pointing at the dragon who had begun to stare him down, "animals eat on the floor."

  Exriam stood on his hind legs, his wings stretch behind him, screeching in defiance.

  "Oh hells no," Raiali glances over at Adara.  He wondered vaguely who the creature could have gotten that kind of attitude from. 

  "Come on," Adara sighs, watching the dragon suddenly glance over to her as though he had just noticed her.  He bounds across the table, using the edge to launch himself into the air before landing on her shoulder.  He was getting big.  He was almost the size of a small cat by now.  Soon, he would not fit on her shoulder anymore.  Letting the dragon nestle against her neck, she took a seat beside the prince.  The prince let out a low whistle, so soft she scarcely heard it.  She watched in awe as the she-wolf sat quietly on the other side of him, no more sounds of begging. 

  The table was silent as Raiali took a seat.

  Adara took the brief silence to take a look at the girl, who sat ever-so quietly beside Raiali.  Even enveloped by pain and sorrow, she remained stoic, her head held high; a posture that even the best kings and queens could not perfect.  Despite how they had found her, tied down alone in the dark, she had not been physically harmed.  Not like the rest of them.  She had been harmed in a different way.  A way that hurt her to speak of.  A way that seemed to have taken her tongue.  All Adara could do was pray so that her voice may one day return to her.

  "Well don't just sit there," Raiali says with a frown, reaching his arm across the table, grabbing food, "go on and help yourselves."

  "Did you forget that there's this thing called manners?" Adara asks, swatting his hands.

  "I assumed that we did not bother ourselves with such things," Raiali rolled his eyes, leaning back into his chair, "pass the bacon?"

  Adara could only laugh as she grabbed the plate, sliding it over to him.  She never much cared for manners or etiquette for that matter, but when she was delivered back to her parents they expected it of her.  Manners, she supposed, made her seem more human, for a lack of a better word.  Besides, they were dining with a prince and a girl who had grown up surrounded by royalty.  That was why it surprised her when the three began reaching across the table, grabbing whatever they wanted; bacon, sausages, eggs, potatoes, biscuits, and gravy. 

  "What were you saying about manners?" Raiali asked, chuckling as he tossed a biscuit at the prince, who caught it awkwardly with his left hand; his right hand still burning in pain whenever he moved it.

  "Alright," Adara smiles, taking a small bit of everything, "do whatever you would like."

  "We would not have it any other way," the prince smirks, taking a bite out of the biscuit.  He much preferred their funny way of eating together than sitting in a dreadfully dull silence with his family. 

  Adara took a few pieces of sausage and fed it to her dragon as she turned her head, gazing out of the stained-glass window.  The question danced dangerously on her lips, urging her to ask, but her mind frankly did not want the answer she knew she would receive.  But some part of her needed to hear him say it.  She knew though, that once she had her answer, their conversations would more-than likely be less light-hearted.  It almost hurt her as she cleared her throat, glancing up at Raiali who simply stared back at her with a form of concern painted in his eyes.

  "I was just wondering," Adara whispers, running her finger around the rim of her glass, glancing away from him, "what day is it?"

  She saw it written across his face the very moment she asked; she saw it in his eyes, the sudden flash of utter defeat and sadness.  Adara covered her mouth with her hand, gazing back out the window as her mouth had suddenly run dry; she took a shaky breath as a tear fell from her eye.  It felt as though the air had been sucked out of her lungs.  She was not sure why she was crying, or why it had shocked her straight to her core.  She knew what his answer was going to be, but for some reason, it hit her harder than she could have ever even expected.

  "What day is it?" The prince asks, putting a hand gently on her shoulder as he leans foreword, "what is she talking about?"

  "Tomorrow," He sighs, "is Eru Vash di Lumus."

  It took him a moment, the words sounded foreign of course yet familiar, but he knew it. 

  "The celebration of light," the prince choked.

  The only one who did not have a clue as to why the party was important, Lilura, hesitated.  It meant something entirely different for her.  Each year while the entire city was dancing and singing in celebration, she was upstairs working out who the King could and could not work with.  All-the-while the partiers were completely oblivious to the deals and murders that took place right above them.  It meant something extremely wicked and vile for her.  She knew why it frightened her, but she could only sit and wait for them to reveal why it scared them so.

  "No," the prince shook his head, gritting his teeth, "how can that be?"  He ran his hand through his hair, "how is that even possible?"

  "We've spent so many days not even knowing where we were," Raiali says quietly, frowning, "we've lost so much time."

  "What are we supposed to do?" The prince asks, sliding his plate to the she-wolf who ate it contentedly, "what can we do?"

  "There are only two potential options," Adara says quietly, turning to face the prince.  "We can either give up now before it is too late," she whispers, her eyes burned with unshed tears, "or we continue with our plan of death," she chokes as she wipes her face off with the palms of her shaking hands.  Neither option was great.  In fact, both options were drastic and dangerous and could get each and every one of them killed.  She knew what she would do, but it was not her call to make; the prince had be the one to make that choice.

  "If we walk away now," Raiali cast a glare at her, frowning, "his father will have you killed." 

  "I won't let that happen," the prince growls. 

  "Can you guarantee that?" Raiali asks, slamming his hand on the table, "can you?"

  If his mother and father had died in the attack on the Keep, he could and would guarantee that.  He would let her live the rest of her life free from his families mistakes.  Even if that meant him too.  But, he could not be sure that his father had perished, so he supposed that he couldn't.  He could not guarantee that she would be safe if they stopped now and pretended that nothing had happened at all.  If they stopped now then everything that they had been through, the torture and Octavian's death, would have been for absolutely nothing.

  "I can't," the prince said quietly, almost weakly as he glanced over at Adara, "so I guess there is no other choice."

  "Do you understand what you are saying?" Adara asks quietly, gripping his hand tightly with her own; once he said it they would not be able to go back. 

  "I am saying," the prince said the words slow, as if he couldn't quite find the right words to say, "that we will kill the king tomorrow."

  All Adara could do was lean back into her chair as the boys spoke of plans and strategy.  All she could think about was what could go wrong.  They had one day, today, to plan the perfect murder.  All it took was one small and minute mistake, and all of them would pay the price; that price being death.  Their plan had to be entirely obsolete.  Their plan had go be entirely foolproof.  Thankfully, this was something she had thought about every night for over ten years.  She had a plan.  She just had to hope that they would agree to what her plan entailed.

  "There is a side entrance to the castle," She spoke up, silencing them both as she leaned stood from her chair.  "It is hard to miss because there are always two guards standing watch," she explains, gripping the back of the chair tight, her knuckles a bright white.  "It will not be hard to take them down," she says as she glances up at Raiali, "and then you will take their place."

  "You are sure?" Raiali asks, "only two men?"

  "I am not sure," Adara admits with a sigh, running a frustrated hand through her hair.  It had been years since she had even stepped foot in the castle, and after what she had done, she could only imagine how security had changed.  Her plan involved a lot of risk, maybe too much, but she had no choice now.  "I'm not sure of anything," she says, shrugging her shoulders.  She just did not have the answers to the questions that they needed.

  "It's alright," the prince says, "keep going."

  "While you stand guard," She continues, "the prince and I will finish checking the perimeter."  She knew that there were always guards sweeping the floor of the castle, mingling with the crowd to ensure that no one dare made a move against the king.  "On our way to the front of the building," Adara says quietly, "we should have no issues slipping in with the rest of the crowd."  They had to do their best not to draw any attention to themselves.  They would have to go in separately, if the plan was to work how she intended — that, and if one of them was going to get caught, it would have to be her.  The prince had to kill the king.

  "Once we are inside," Adara glances quickly to Lilura who continued to sit quietly, but she looked long enough to see that her eyes met her own, "there will be a distraction."  She could not say it, what the distraction would be, not to them.  They would refuse outright, she knew that.  "While the guards are busy," Adara took a deep breath as she tapped her nails on the wooden chair, staring at the prince's mix-matched eyes, "that is when you will strike against the king."

  "As long as you stick to your role," Adara says as she runs another hand through her hair, brushing it out of her face.  "As long as you stick to your role," she hesitates as she glances at Raiali and then at the prince, "only the bad guy will die tomorrow night."  If they didn't do exactly as she said, odds were that they would be the ones who found themselves dead; not the king.

  She had expected a silence, a cold silence of contemplation and worry; she had expected anything other than what she heard.

  "What about me?" Lilura asks, her eyes were wide and unblinking as she held tightly onto her own hands.  She could feel all of their eyes on her, but she was used to how that felt; she felt that way every-day of her life.  "What do I get to do?" She asks quietly, her voice shaking.  Lilura was not a fool, she knew that she could not fight like they did, but she also knew that she could be useful.  She wanted to be useful.

  "You get to stay right here," Raiali says, his voice icy, leaving no room for discussion.

  "I can help," Lilura says quieter now, "please."

  "No," Raiali shook his head, standing up, his chair banging against the wall; all of them seemed to flinch.  Even he seemed surprised by his own reaction.  "You are going to stay here," Raiali says as he walked across the room, "as far away from the killing as possible."  His voice was cold, and angry, but not at her.  He was furious with himself.  He had already let her get hurt more times than he cared to admit, and he was not going to put her in any more danger than she was already in just by knowing them.  With his words, he stomped out of the room.

  "Can you go make sure he is alright?" Adara asks the prince, watching him give a soft nod.

  Adara grit her teeth as she glanced over at the elven girl who continued to sit as still as stone as though nothing could hurt her.  She could see though, through the cloudiness of her eyes, that she was hurting.  Once they were completely and entirely alone, Adara took a seat in front of her, tapping her foot gently on the floor.  A part of the plan she could not tell the others about.  A vital part of the plan was sitting right in front of her.  She just had to get her to say yes.

  "Lilura," Adara says quietly, "there was a part of the plan that I left out."  She did not have to look up at her to know that she had her attention as she said, "a part of the plan that requires you and I to team up."  She hesitated at the silence that fell over them.

  "What are you saying?" Lilura asks quietly.

  "You would be me," Adara says quietly, dangerously, "You would have to be Jasper."

  They discussed it in hushed voices, carefully listening in case either of the boys returned.  It was a big risk that they were taking.  If their kingdom hated anyone more than anything in the entirely of their world, it was Jasper, and this little girl would be her.

  The king wanted her alive, he always did, but the guards did not follow every order in which they were given.  Her priority was to lure the guards upstairs and keep them busy chasing her down.  If she was caught by them though, then there was no guaranteeing what they might do to her while the rest of them were downstairs.  It was a dangerously risky plan, but it was one that she was willing to take.

  While she was upstairs leading the men on a hunt, the real assassin would be downstairs making her own distraction to keep the rest of the guards busy.  It was not important to them how they got the guards attention, as long as they did it.  Once they had done what they came to do, the prince would be able to do what he had been born to do.  The king of glass would finally be no more, and the kingdoms would finally be able to find some form of peace under the golden rule.  Their plan would work, they had to believe that with every ounce of hope they had left.

  "Adara," Lilura says quietly after a time of silence, a frown on her paled face, both of them had been slowly digesting the plan, "I have to warn you about something before it is too late."

  "Warn me?" Adara asks, listening to the sound of footsteps in the hallway, "about what?" She asks, frowning.

  "I can see pasts and presents and futures," Lilura explains, "all our futures end in death."  Adara flinches when she put her tattooed hand onto her own, holding it tightly for what felt like only seconds before pulling away.  "The causes of people's deaths are never certain," Lilura says quietly, weakly now.  "I could touch someone one moment and see that they die of a fall," she elaborated, "and the next moment I touch them I see that instead they die of heart failure."  For some reason, she suddenly felt a chill.

  "Ever since I first met you," Lilura says, quietly, hesitating, "I have seen the same death every single time I touch your skin."  She froze in her chair, watching Lilura hold a hand over her stomach, the frown deepens on her face.  "Whenever I see your death," Lilura whispers, her eyes no longer meet her own, "I first feel a pain that I have never felt before."  It paled in comparison to when the assassin attacked her.  It was indescribable.  It could only be made out of pure agony and fear.  "Then," she says quietly, tears sliding down her face, "I see it."  She shook her head as she hugged her arms around herself, "I see a sword plunged right through you," she whispers. 

  "I was going to tell you sooner," Lilura says quietly, watching Adara stand from the chair, running her hands through her hair nervously.  She could not imagine how terrifying it must be.  To know how you are going to die.  She could not begin to imagine the thoughts that would run rampant through her mind.  "I guess I was not sure how to," Lilura admits with a sigh, "I just want you to be prepared."  She did not have to say it aloud; she meant prepared in case something went wrong tomorrow.  In case something went very wrong.

  She did not know how to say or even what to feel.  She always knew that her story would end in death.  Every person's story would inevitably end with their death.  It was guaranteed for every living being that roamed their lands.  It had always been a possibility that she could be killed because of her work, but some part of her never thought that she would be.  It never mattered to her much, how she would eventually die, but now that she knew — now that she knew she would be killed, that mattered to her.  She never truly thought she would ever die.

  "Thank you," Adara says quietly, taking a dazed step back from her, her hands shaking, "thank you for telling me."

  "Are you going to be alright?" Lilura asks.

  "Yes," Adara flashes a smile, walking slowly to the doorway, lying through the skin on her own teeth, "I will be fine."

  "Are you sure?" Lilura whispers in disbelief.

  "Of course," Adara says, but her voice had fallen short, "tomorrow is going to be a big day so make sure you get some rest."

  As she walks slowly out of the room, a hand grabbed her around her upper arm, holding her in place.  She rocked gently onto her toes and then back onto her heels, setting her jaw as the grip tightens.

  "You shouldn't lie," the prince says angrily.

  She could not help but let out a laugh as she looked straight forward, never once glancing his way.  His grip had almost began to hurt as she tugged her arm free, walking across the floor and up the stairs.

  "What did you expect me to do?" Adara asks, halfway up the stairs with him following closely behind her; his eyes bore into her back.

  What did he expect her to do?  He felt as though he could have laughed as he heard those words; a cold and empty laugh.  He expected her to tell the truth.  After what they had been through, they agreed not to keep anything from one another.  So, what did he expect her to do?  He expected her to say that she was afraid.  He expected her to admit that what Lilura had said was absolutely terrifying, and that it scared her to her core.  He expected that of her, because right now, he was drowning in it.

  "I expected you to be honest," the prince says, following her as they reached the top of the stairs, walking into the room they shared.

  She was quiet as he shut the door behind her, but she still could not make herself look at him as she walks over to the window.  Unlocking it, she pushes them open, closing her eyes as a gentle breeze brushes her hair from her face.  The soft sound of the pitter patter of rain filled her ears, the grey skies were dark and gloomy, and she found it fitting considering how she felt.  Sticking her arm gingerly outside, she almost flinched as water droplets pelted her skin; she had forgotten what it felt like.

  "You expected me to be honest?" Adara asks quietly, listening to the rain as it collected inside of metal pots and pans that people had left outside; their prayers for water had been heard at last. 

  "That's all I want," the prince says as he walks to the window, standing beside her, gazing out at her scarred hand as water had gathered on the top and slid off of it.

  "Fine," Adara sighs, "I'm not alright."  She pursed her lips as she shook her head gently.  She shrugged her shoulders as she forced a smile onto her face, "because now I suppose that whenever I see a sword I have to run in the opposite direction."

  "I'm serious," the prince says, putting his hand on her own, his eyes watch the water falling from the sky, splattering on the ground.

  "I'm serious too," Adara whispers, turning her gaze slowly onto him.  "I am not truly afraid of dying," she says quietly, staring into his eyes that stared right back at her.  She ran her wet hand through her hair, gripping the windowsill.  "I am afraid of being killed," she whispers, "I do not want to be killed."  Her voice broke off at the end as tears choked her.  She was simply just as fucking afraid as he was.

  She froze as he wrapped his arms around her, one arm around her back as the other held her head against his chest.  Her body seemed to move on its own as she wrapped her arms around him, her tears falling into his shirt.  "You won't be killed," the prince says quietly, staring out into the rain, "I won't let it happen."  He glances down at her, a smile playing on his face as she gazes back up at him.  "I don't care if I have to ban all swords," he smirks, "so long as it keeps you safe."  She almost doubted him, but he was being entirely and completely serious.

  Adara hesitated for a moment as she put a hand on the side of his face, her eyes search his own; she saw him for who he truly was.  He was not just royalty.  He was not just a prince.  He was just a man who just wanted to help her.  She decided that she would let him help her.  She pulls his head down as she plants a kiss across his lips, deeply and roughly, his eyes widen in what she could only describe as shock and confusion.

  "What are you doing?" He asks breathlessly as she shoved him, knocking him into the bed.  He did not quite know what to do or think.

  "What does it look like I'm doing?" she whispers, pulling his shirt off, doing the same to her own; she ran her hands over his scars.

  He stares up at her, leaning back on his elbows as she unbuckles his belt, throwing it across the room.  A part of him felt like a child again, hiding from his father as he snuck a girl up to his room.  This was different though.  He had never truly cared about a girl before, not like he cared about her; the urge to keep her safe.  He grabs her gently around her waist, rolling over as he straddled her.  He took her hands gently into his own, locking their fingers together as he bends down, kissing her as she had done to him.

  "Are you sure?" The prince asks quietly, staring down at her; he did not want her to regret what they were about to do. 

  He didn't want her to regret doing it with him.

  "We could die tomorrow," Adara says, her grip tightens on his hands as she smiles up at him.  "When I die," she whispers with a smile, "I don't want to regret having missed a chance to sleep with a prince," she laughed, watching him smile.

  "No regrets," the prince laughs, rolling to the side as she climbed on top of him, her hands holding his down now.  For one night, that night, they knew that they had become more than the prince and the assassin; they had become two people who just wanted to see the other one safe and happy, the looming threat of war and death stowed away deep in the backs of their minds. 

  Suddenly, neither of them was quite so sure that they wanted their mission to end just yet.