Page 36 of A Requiem of Fire and Ice

“Well, until then, explore more before leaving tomorrow evening!” She ushers us out the door. As our group moves down a few blocks, I mention needing a moment to clear my head. They say it would be for the best and agree to catch up for a drink and a sit-down half an hour before Xavier’s awakening near the amphitheatre.

Out of their sight, I roll my shoulder, kink my neck, and allow the timid persona to fade away as the mindset of an assassin takes over. I hop into the first cab I spot. The driver scrutinises me until I hand him a $100 bill. He pulls away from the curb after I tell him I want to go to the Crimson Hotel.

I keep my eyes on the window, my hands tightening on my dress. He asks if I’m meeting someone there. I shake my head and explain that I want to take photos of every tourist attraction before I leave. He mentions a few others, even bringing up the castle.

I brush him off and say, “I went to the castle last night. It was the first place I wanted to go with my friends.”

“Was it everything you dreamed it to be?”

“Yes!” I’m not even lying. It’s hard to picture anything apart from ash, flesh, and dead bodies in Flesh. However, it’s also disappointing to have a castle in a place like this.

Brutal.

The cabbie parks in the taxi bay outside the Crimson Hotel. With a quick thanks, I grab my satchel and hop out of the car. Switching into tourist mode, I snap a few photos of the hotel to share with Sara and Kylie, then turn when I see cameras flashing nearby. Amid the crowd and the wailing screams of excited fans, Prince Walkyer comes into view.

Shit.

Dipping my head, I glare at the ground and make my way down the pathway. Fans cluster ahead of me, and I get swallowed up by the crowd. We pass each other. I glimpse him smiling at his fans from the corner of my eye, but his gaze lingers in one direction as if he needs to be somewhere.

The rising hairs on the back of my neck stop, and the shudder of panic being so close to a prince eases until I can focus on killing King Ragan—his dad. Upon his return to the castle, I would have left behind nothing but organs and entrails riddling the floor.

There are two directions I can take.

Prince Walkyer being so close to the Crimson Hotel makes me rethink the initial plan Nancy had in mind. If he enters the hotel at the same time I do, there would have been a minuscule chance he’d recognise me, and that slight chance is enough to put me off.

Not only that, but the first plan had me dress up as one of King Ragan’s sex workers after taking one out and devising an elaborate plan for replacement. Many elemny wouldn’t question the motive because no one wants to get too close to King Ragan.

They die when they do.

The other plan is this one: seduce the guard at the west side entrance, drug him with melatonin, dress as a maid, slip into their entrance and wait until the king finishes with his sex workers. Every interaction must be flawless, making it the riskiest as I need to lie convincingly. One mistake and my head will be on a spike on the wall.

Two text messages blink as I arrive at the castle. Xavier messages that he’s feeling better and is watching TV until he awakens. I reply, letting him know I left Sara and Kylie to have some time to themselves, so it doesn’t seem like I’m ignoring him.

The second message comes from the water elemny guarding the west entrance, asking if I still want to visit him while he’s on duty.

Once Nancy had set up my account on the celebrity dating site, the poor man quickly slipped into my private messages. From there, it wasn’t hard for him to succumb to every fake nude picture I sent him.

When I focus on the Queen’s tower, the grassy vines and blooming flowers catch my eye. It appears even more beautiful up close and in daylight, despite a thin layer of smoke lingering in the air.

Then, my attention turns to the two guards at the castle gates leading into the estate—two fire elemny with guns strapped to their waists. It’s illegal to own a gun in Eraminia. The only individuals permitted to carry guns are guards and the Knights of Eraminia. They wield excessive power compared to elemny powers. Thus, they pose more of a threat than a welcoming guest.

I join in with the fans and take photos at the front gate. They hope to glimpse the king.

Or they want to glimpse the Queen in her lofty tower. Some even mention Prince Emmerton, hoping he might venture out to the sea of fans and grab one for a quick fuck. Anyone else, and they’re better off waiting outside the Crimson Hotel for Prince Walkyer, though I’m seriously doubtful they’ll find Prince Reen—not that most elemny care for him. Most students spoke about him with disdain because they were racist or didn’t like that many still referred to him as a prince, even knowing he was not a legitimate heir to the king.

Whatever. Why do I even care? I need to focus on killing the piece of shit who let those elemny set fire to my skin and tried to rape me.

Not wanting to pretend to be a fan anymore, I stroll down the castle’s side. My gaze lingers on the deteriorating head of my father. It twists my stomach into knots. Harsh memories of his training surface, but only briefly.

I’m not here to avenge my family. Not even here for my kingdom.

No.

I’m here to kill King Ragan for myself. This is my revenge—nothing more and nothing less. And I will make sure he dies knowing my name and what he has done to me.

There’s a cafe nearby. It smells of bitter coffee beans and sweetened cakes.

I ordered an iced coffee—double shot and two sugars. As she hands it over, I squeeze the cup too hard. The lid comes off, spilling milky brown liquid all over my dress.