"Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Violin?"

Violet kept pace with the Duke of Neville who walked her in a circle around the large ballroom, "Yes your Grace, thank you." It was a lie. She was nervous. More nervous than she had ever been. Soon, Ismail would show up and her life would be irrevocably changed.

"I have to thank you, my Lady. My daughter, Elisabeth, cannot stop speaking of your musical talent. She is an avid student of the violin herself and is your greatest fan."

Violet smiled, trying to focus on the conversation. "I am flattered, your grace, but please do call me Violet."

The Duke stopped, his deep voice low so as not to be overheard. "I have heard of your music, your beauty and your courage Violet, but never of your blindness. How do you hide it?"

Stunned, Violet took her hand from the crook of his arm. He had her full attention now.

"I suppose I do have an unfair advantage over the rest of the ton. You see my sister, Mary, is blind. She lives in the country. I would live there myself if it were not for my position in the House of Lords and Elisabeth's school."

For some reason Violet got the impression the Duke did not usually tell people such intimate details about himself. He had inadvertently come across her secret and was giving her one in return. She appreciated his gesture.

"People generally believe what they want to believe," Violet said at last. Hadn't she wanted to believe Patrick loved her, just because she loved him? It was all wishful thinking.

"A truth if I ever heard one," the Duke acknowledged. "You know Violet, Elisabeth's mother passed away a few years ago and I admit to being well, a little over protective of her since." He laughed at himself, then took Violet's hand, "She has asked me if she might meet you, and I believe that such an introduction would do her a wealth of good."

"Thank you, your Grace," Violet smiled feeling flattered. "I would be honoured to meet your daughter."

"Good, I will ask Princess Kourakin to bring you for tea soon. Ah, Patrick, I wondered if you would show."

"When have you known me to reject an invitation of yours, your Grace?"

Violet understood that Patrick was a powerful man. She had gathered that from the way men and women differed to him and from the snippets of gossip she heard about him, but his easy familiarity with the Duke of Neville, a man who had the ear of the Queen of Britain herself, was surprising.

"I want to ask for your opinion on a matter if you have time this week. Perhaps at James' country home? I'm due to pay him a visit  soon." 

"Of course," Patrick replied. He was standing closer to her now; Violet could feel his heat, his scent blocked out everyone else's. Was this the way they would spend their last few moments together? Making polite chit chat with the Duke of Neville?

A fist seemed to be closing around her heart. Violet could not stand there for another moment. This had to finish, she had to find Ismail and give him what he deserved and end all of this once and for all.

"If you will excuse me, your Grace, my Lord?" Violet spoke towards the men, "I believe I promised this next dance." It was not a lie, she had promised the dance to a marquis or another, although she had no intention of dancing.

"Let me escort you to your partner," Patrick said smoothly. He had taken her arm before she could think to refuse. "I'll arrange that meeting, your Grace." 

"Good. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance Lady Violin. Please enjoy your evening."

"Thank you, your Grace." Suddenly Violet realised that she was about to ruin this ball with murder. All of these people would be distressed and the Duke would no longer want her to meet his daughter. She was about to become a murderess. No, it was not murder, it was justice...

Oh God, she couldn't go soft now, not now. Ismail had to pay and if she did not make him pay no one would. Her father's death would go unavenged and the man would certainly kill again.

Father, she thought, help me. Please.

"Violet, what's wrong?" Patrick's voice pulled her out of her thoughts as they walked away from the Duke.

"Nothing. I'm just... I..." it was as if her brain had shut down. She picked up Ismail's scent on Patrick and shuddered. So the blackguard had arrived?

"Do you want to get some air?"

Violet shook her head, no. It was time. Time to end this fantasy and do what was right. Her stomach clenched and she pulled her hand from Patrick's arm lest he notice that her palms had begun to sweat.

"There is something I wanted to tell you," she began slowly. She wondered if this was what people felt as they walked to their execution. Her heart was breaking one shard at a time and she wanted nothing more than to fling herself into Patrick's arms and never let go. But, that too made no sense. He had been toying with her, the human, using her for as long as she would please him...although it wasn't really playing when he had been honest in his intentions from the start, was it? Either way, she loved him still.

"What is it Violet" He was still and it seemed to her like the ballroom had become silent too. What was the use of a confession? What good would it do to admit to this man that she had fallen in love with him?

I love you, she thought sadly, and I'm sorry for what I have to do. "I was wondering if you could get me a refreshment?"

"Of course." He was smiling again, she could hear it in his voice. "I'll be just a moment."

Violet stayed put for a few seconds after he left and then followed her nose, trying to catch Daniel's scent in the air. She would need him to get Ismail where she wanted him.

She turned right, moving through a crowd of people, but lost his scent again. The adrenaline that was pumping through her veins was making it difficult to concentrate. Damn, she hadn't counted on this. She needed her sense to be alert!

"Violet? Are you looking for someone?"

Violet recognised  Daniel's voice and put a smile on her face despite feeling sick to her stomach.  A piercing headache sent her fingers to her temples and she grimaced. She couldn't afford a headache now, she had to concentrate. Killing Ismail would be difficult.

"I was actually looking for Ismail," she replied.

"Oh?"

"Yes, a messenger arrived just a moment ago, said it was urgent and that he would wait in the billiard room at the end of the hallway to the right," the lie she had practiced so many times rolled off her tongue smoothly. "Could you find him and let him know?"

As nervous as she was, she hoped she could remember the lie she had invented lest Daniel ask her why she had been sent to find Ismail. Her heart thudded in her chest as her headache grew.

"Certainly. I will send him to the room immediately," Daniel agreed.

Violet couldn't believe he had not asked more questions, but she had no time to think too much on it. She had to get to the room before Daniel found Ismail.

"Thank you." Violet moved quickly, trying not to think past her objective. Her headache was suddenly gone and she was grateful as she needed to concentrate. The scents around her were blending making it difficult to navigate the crowded ballroom. Several people called to her, but she kept walking, slowing down just enough to make an offhand remark about being off to powder her nose.

And then she was there, in the hallway and though her heart felt as though it was in her throat, her hand was steady. She leaned forward, lifting her skirts to pull her blade from under the strip of cloth around her thigh.

Don't think, she commanded herself, don't think.

She followed the scent of the chalk they used on the cue sticks to find the billiard room and closed the door behind her.  No one else was in the room, but she had no time to relax. Ismail would only be moments behind her.  

The doorknob rattled.

Her stomach turned.

The scent of blood and Ismail and Patrick and sweat and all the guests beyond the corridor all blended into one. Her nervousness was making everything blur.

Do not think! The command rung in her brain as footsteps crossed into the room. She waited a heartbeat, her fingers tightening on the knife. For a moment it was silent and then a shuffle came from the left side of the room.

This is for you, father.

She breathed deeply, the scent of Ismail was clear in her mind now, he was there a few steps to her left.

This is for you.

And in the next heartbeat, she flung her knife with the flick of her wrist.

"Ugh." The groan and the loud crash let her know he had fallen to the ground. She moved forward quickly, numb to all thought, and put her hands on the back of the man swaying on his knees before her, finding and pulling out her dagger in a quick move.

Then, turning the knife so the hilt faced down, she brought it down as hard as she could against the fiends head. He fell, heavy on the ground, unconscious.

"Did you think you would get away with it?" Her voice was hoarse with pain and rage as she grabbed the body, and used all her strength to turn him on his back. Incase she had missed his heart, she would need to slit his throat or the blood drinker would not die.

Violet climbed atop the body, her left hand finding his hair. Silky hair like Patrick's. No, she couldn't think of him now. Her fingers trailed lower, over his face to find his throat.

And then she froze.

Her breathing hitched as her left hand moved up, so that she could feel his face again.

The knife dropped as she moved her second hand to the features her fingers had memorised  long ago.

Violet couldn't think. Her hands shook as she brought them to her head. No. No. No. It couldn't be him. It wasn't him. It wasn't. It wasn't. It wasn't.

"Highlander, what is taking so long?" Violet heard Ismail's voice from the door, and pain burst inside her chest. She knew she had to pick up her knife, to stab Ismail, to stab herself.

She heard the Ottoman curse and run forward, but she couldn't move. She was paralysed  by the scent of Patrick's blood. On her hands, on her dress, everywhere around her.

"What have you done?" The Ottoman's panic stricken voice did not faze her. The world slowed down and in the distance she heard Angelica's voice.

Then a sharp pain erupted  in her head and she knew no more.