(n.) the ability to gauge mood of others, read atmosphere, and react appropriately.

Raneem wondered how the chiseler - Baronet Leanne, she should start remembering that - could be so calm and confident in impersonating Duchess Sirien. Sure, the woman rarely left her estate because of her frailty and Leanne had been impersonating her for so long. But still, how could she not worry about being caught?

"Abiel," Leanne turned to her, "-please make yourself scarce among the servants. I shall send for you when I feel faint. Run a long now."

"Yes, my lady," she bowed and wandered off not daring to lift her head, lest she be recognized. She went unnoticed by nobles as she made her way through the gardens to the servant's hallways, and when she was certain no one was looking, she veered off.

Raneem clutched the tube in her hands, hoping that no one would stop her. She hoped that she would not have to use Leanne's tactic to get past guards and not raise an alarm.

Zane had told her that the Elixir they let the lieges of Amira discover was at the private library where many other secrets were stored. And as she neared it, she ducked behind a wall and hissed. There was one guard. She knew him and remembered he was one of the good soldiers his father had. He was supposed to be an officer, but he was relegated to such a duty. She knew him enough to not complain and he did his job well. It was a pity he had to bar her way. She would not take her chance at pleading with him.

"Oh dear!" she threw herself on the floor, clutching her ankle.

The soldier looked at her, tense with a hand on the pommel of his sword. Seeing her, he relaxed. "You are not supposed to be here, miss."

She sobbed, the cowl of her hood hiding the fact that she did not have any tears. A horrid actress! That was what she was. "I know. But a rat!" she sniffed, trying to still her wildly beating heart. What she didn't feign was her trembling. The gods knew how nervous she was. "A horrible, vile creature, that! It chased me and I stumbled. Could you please help me up?"

He came to her and put his arm around her. At once, she applied pressure beneath his ear, brought her fist to his throat to stifle any sound and stroke the nape of his neck. She sighed and the frantic beating of her heart eased somewhat. She thanked herself for her stubbornness and refusal to listen to her father when he did not want her to know about Adam and the king's guards as they trained. It made her hands rough and callous, but it did serve a purpose.

She hoped Zane did not mind such ugly hands...

She shook the thought off. She had to get what she came for and be quick about it. She dragged the unconscious guard into the library and opened a box that was not there the last time she came. In it contained different vials, most of them, full. She easily recognized Zane's crystal vial and saw one that was less. Her father's poison. She took both vials and placed them in the tube.

Raneem ran quickly up to the throne room where Amira would be pronounced queen later. The house breaker - soon-to-be merchant - should be in his position for her getaway. If not, well, perhaps it was her time to die. She also hoped that Adam had gathered as much as he could and was ready at their stations. She had given him so little time, so she could not expect so much.

Her hood dropped as she lifted the Elixir from the tube for a quick check to see if she got the right one. She nodded to herself and burst inside the throne room. She approached the insignia of her family and traced the gem-encrusted symbol with a finger. This was her father's pride. It was what he and generations before him had worked for - peace to Gwahan and she would be damned if she let Amira ruin it! She would rule Gwahan. With Zane. The elf could protest all he wanted but once she was through with all this political business, it would be his turn to be her prisoner.

"I thought I saw a little mouse run up here. With something of my own."

Raneem's back stiffened and she straightened to face her. "Hello, bitch witch."

Amira smirked. "Funny you should call me that now. I always knew you suspected, but your father was a very foolish, passionate man. I thought his death would grieve you to death, but I see you are still here."

"My desire for vengeance runs deeper than my grief, Amira. As is my desire to see the country that my father loved and ruled prosper. You will ruin all of Gwahan with your desire to be at war with the elves! And for what?" She clutched the tube to her heart.

"Dear, sweet child, you have no idea about the power of the Elixir, do you?" Amira laughed a melodious, but wicked laughter. "The elves do not know the power that they have. With it, they can raise entire cities and destroy them. They can even raise the dead and have a whole army of unfeeling, mindless creatures at your command. Think about it. You would have the whole world at your hands and nothing could stop you."

"That is why the Elixir is in their care and not in yours! They use the it to breathe life to Treliron, not take it away. They have done good with such a power and you want to destroy everything just to have everything you want?"

"Not everything, my dear, little mouse. Only those who oppose me."

"To what end?"

"Does power need an explanation?" The smile on her face faded. "Too long I have been denied of what was rightfully mine. Your soldiers crushed our village as we housed the guerillas and tended to their wounded. You took everything from me!"

"It was an action in remiss." Raneem stood straight. "We have said our apologies and are trying to rebuild with the guerillas. And now, there is peace, though a fragile one. I assure you, it will never happen again."

"Damn right it will not. Because I will be queen. And I will destroy those who are not at peace with me." Amira extended her hand. "Hand over the Elixir and I will only send you to the dungeons. If you do not, I will kill you and have it anyway."

Raneem glared at her, fiddling with the tube under her coat. "You will kill me, whether or not I give this to you. I am a stumbling block to your ambitions."

The evil smile returned on Amira's features again. "Very perceptive. But you see, I do have a merciful side. I will not kill you painlessly if you give it to me. A streak through your skull should suffice."

"Such a coward to not kill with your own hands." Raneem smirked, herself. "But I guess that is the way of an invalid. Magic is your crutch and will be your downfall. I assure you, when I am dead, the meisters will know magic has been used. Magic different from the elves. And who to blame but you? Such a pity for your reign to end so short. You know how this hall records magic. Of course I do not wish to die painfully." She tossed the tube to Amira. "I wait my painless death."

Amira caught the tube and opened it. She howled seeing only the poison she used fall into her hands. "Where is the Elixir?" She screeched.

"That is the poison you used to kill my father and frame Adam, yes?"

Amira took a deep breath and composed herself. "You come here only to hear the truth of things? You do not have the Elixir." She laughed. "Such a fool I had been. Yes. Is this what will silence you in your grave? Yes. This is what I used. And I have considered your advice. I will kill you with my own hands. You think I am incapable? We shall see."

Raneem took the vial of Elixir in her hand and ran to the curtains behind the throne. "You want it?" She threw the vial behind the curtains to the ground ten spans below.

Amira's eyes lit with burning rage as she screamed rushing toward her, spewing out profanities. Raneem knew the woman to be quick, agile and better than her at combat with all the time the woman had spent living with the guerillas. She had too little time to dodge and she felt her throat constrict painfully as the bitch witch's hand collided into her and pushed her out to the balcony railings, pinning her there.

Raneem's vision was going white and her mind did not comprehend anything but pain and suffering. She could not breathe and her body felt like it was being snapped as she was held bent over backwards on the railing. She could feel her neck collapsing in on itself as she struggled to claw and kick her way out of her grasp. It was a useless battle and as she felt herself getting weaker, she could only think about how she would disappoint Zane. Dead, she could never be his bride. Could never tell him how she truly felt about him. Could never feel what it would be like to be held in his powerful arms, sheltered from the world. Could never even so much as say his name. Never feel what it would be like to be finally free to act on the primal need she felt every time he drew near.

The only thing that she could understand aside from the pain was that dying felt the same as falling.

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