Page 93 of To No End

When I explained what I wanted for my dress, the tailor looked at me wide-eyed, unsure as to whether I was joking or not.

I had planned to be modest with my weaponry request, especially since I’d have nowhere to hide them. But then I saw Cairis’ long list of items, and he had reminded me that no one said the request had to be just for the party. I followed his logic and added a handful more items to my parchment.

I demanded that everyone attend a few classes led by Gia and me on dancing. We weren’t certain if we’d be pulled into the festivities, but if we were, we would need to blend in like each of us had grown up dancing at these sorts of events.

Cairis and Trace needed the most work, simply because their size worked against them. Cairis was clunky in his steps, constantly jamming Gia’s poor toes.

Trace was extremely stiff. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t because he was practicing with me, which forced his hands to be wrapped around my waist and our bodies closer than they’d been in a long time. I continued to critique him. He wouldn’t let me get off easy in the flight field; I wasn’t about to let him messthis up for us just because he didn’t have a musical bone in his rigid physique.

To no one’s surprise, Varro was a great dancer. He was fluid like water, his body bending and curving with each dip of mine. Maybe his sister or mother had taught him to dance. I imagined him whirling his sister around, the sea breeze tousling her hair with each turn. Nori was light and graceful on her feet, but we all knew that if she had to dance with a stranger, the intimacy of it might be more than she bargained for on our first mission.

Over the next few days, Cairis improved. He emphasized that he’d been putting in work with the Vesper. We all laughed at the thought of Cairis waltzing in that tiny room, especially given the fact that most of us practiced violence with a Vesper, not dancing. I wasn’t about to criticize his commitment, though.

By the end of the week our custom weapons had arrived, as well as the final adjustments to our attire. I purposefully hid my dress from the others. I wasn’t sure I was going to get up enough courage to wear it, but since I had nothing else in my closet, I knew I had no actual choice.

When I had lain in bed at night imagining what it meant to be part of the Order—an assassin, a spy, a weapon of his majesty—I hadn’t imagined it would involve ball gowns and parties, but here we were.

The night before the mission, tension and anxiety could be felt amongst all of us. We’d gone through the plan many times. I’d played out every possible scenario in my head. We were feeling confident, but it also felt strange. Like a prisoner’s day out. This was the first time we’d be leaving Basdie in months. Would anyone be tempted to flee? What would the consequences be if they did? Worse than that, what if someone got hurt? What if we lost someone?

Saryn constantly lectured us that this was a real mission, the risks were all legitimate, and not to underestimate anything. Hesaid never to minimize this to a retrieval mission because things rarely go to plan. He was excellent at dampening any confidence with his incessant warnings.

I heard cracks and quakes within the walls of the stronghold, but it was not the waterfall. I wandered toward the flight deck and found Trace out there by himself. In the distance, dark gray storm clouds were lurking in, and I could see the intermittent flashes of lightning scattered all about. The sound of deep thunder rolled our way.

Trace sat there on the ledge, sketching the landscape before him. I had almost forgotten he drew at all, and was quickly reminded of how much natural talent he possessed. Despite the effortless sweeps of the charcoal across the page, his shoulders remained lifted, uptight with a tension that coated his entire frame. He never seemed at ease anymore. Always on edge, always ready for a fight. I hated seeing him like that, but I knew he was prepared for anything and that brought me a sense of security.

“My father always taught me that a clear mind the night before a mission is more decisive and purposeful,” he said, continuing to sketch.

“How many missions did your father send you on?”

“Enough to know that they rarely go to plan.”

“You must have learned to improvise, then.”

“At a cost.” He sighed. “A storm is a bad omen amongst my people.”

Those were words I did not need to hear the night before our mission. I tried to sound confident when I replied, “We’re your people now. I’m going to let the thunder soothe me like a lullaby and sleep like a babe. I suggest you do the same.”

I turned on my heel and left his side before he could respond.

CHAPTER

29

Looking in the mirror, I was unable to reconcile myself with the refined lady looking back at me. I reasoned that I had spent too long wearing fighting leathers, and it was the fact that I was wearing a dress again. The female in the mirror was a mere shade of the girl who arrived here; scared, unsure of herself, longing for everything she’d lost. The reflection in the mirror was confident, intense, and ready to be unleashed on the world.

The dress only added to the power I felt coursing through me. If I had been trying to downplay things, I might have chalked it up to the excitement of finally leaving Basdie even if for just one evening, but that wasn’t it. I was ready for this mission. My gown wasn’t armor, but it was perfectly designed to disarm anyone who crossed my path.

We arranged for each of us to travel in a handful of carriages. Some of us solo, others in pairs. We staggered our arrival times to ensure we did not appear as a group, making it easier to blend in with other attendees. With the help of Saryn and Theory, weknew the fake names to use upon arrival. The others had already departed. Gia and I were last.

When I stepped into the carriage she gave me a shocked look, remarking, “Damn, Cress, and I thought I was the belle of the ball.”

I blushed at her words, taking it as a compliment but also starting to worry that maybe I had gone too far.

She could see the concern on my face and cut in, “Don’t worry, you’re not going to ruin anything. I’m going to be exactly what he wants and more.”

Gia looked beautiful, but I knew this was not her final appearance. She’d arrive looking like herself, but as soon as she could spend a few minutes getting inside our target’s head, she’d shift and look like the object of his desire for the rest of the evening while we carried out our mission.

The clopping of the horse hooves and the rich scent of polished mahogany was a welcome trip down memory lane. I hadn’t accounted for the longer-than-expected carriage ride when I chose this dress design, but Gia and I made small talk in between rehashing the plan—for my sake more than hers. Her job was pretty straightforward: Keep the target distracted while the rest of us acquired the goods.

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