Breaking Diamonds: Chapter 1

Breaking Diamonds: Chapter 1

Every woman had story about that man who got away. Not many women snuck into a noble's masked ball to find him, and even fewer still could claim the dubious honor of having rappelled down the side of the Bithram Literary Spire in a floor length dress to get to said ball.

When she wasn't setting records no one would-- hopefully-- find out about, Lostariel contented herself to watch the slew of party goers milling about the ballroom. Gaudy costumes festooned in gold and platinum swirled about their wearers, each made from cloth that reacted to their movements in order to accent their features. Tiny butterflies made of silk would flutter from one guests' green dress and coalesce when she would move, forever slaves to their limited intelligence-- to serve. To obey.

Glamorizing the rich and affluent was a profitable industry for those with the stomach for dealing with them. She had read this in one of her father's books; the more outlandish someone could look, the more desirable they became. Even if it was only in their mind. But this...

This was obscene.

A grand banquet lined the outer edges of the ballroom and wrapped around every inch of available wall with treats the likes of which were so over the top in their construction that even touching them seemed a blasphemy against art. Yet the fat aristocrats slurped them up with loud, irritatingly dense smacking of lips.

Even in the middle of the crowd, she could hear that obnoxious noise as though she was right next to them; though born 'human enough', she had a touch of elven blood in her and her father's pact had bestowed some of his draconic abilities, including his remarkably acute hearing. At no point in time did she wish she could tune out her hearing than now, though, to squelch that sound.

-Smack. Smack.- "Not the freshest wine, is it?" -Smack, smack.-

Disgusting. Fat. Lazy. Decadent humans who didn't have the faintest idea what true power was. Absently, her hand slid towards one of the daggers at the small of her back. They were hidden by her cloak but the need to feel the weight of one of them was becoming overpowering. How many of these people would panic and run at the first sight of one? She mused and withdrew her hand.

She knew better than to give into her baser instincts. Now was not the time to be stupid.

Lostariel lost herself in the the crowd of peacocks, catching flickers of inane conversation which she cataloged in the back of her mind. She was passively listening for a certain name to be spoken, for a certain key phrase that would tell her she had found him. It had been too long since she'd seen his face, but not too long that she would have forgotten the sound of his voice.

Being shorter than most of the party goers made it easy to blend in and be overlooked, her dress was among the few without over the top magic to make it stand out, denoting her of lower class and hardly worth attention anyway. Every inch of the pleated skirts bore a reference to a particular card suit. Spades inlaid modest hoops and folds amongst clubs and hearts, leading up the skin hugging silk blouse that curved neatly around her compact body with bright red and white diamond patterns. In addition to accenting her modest bust, it also emphasized her generous hips-- a highly desirable thing where she came from-- and, most importantly, it did a good job of hiding the leather sneak suit she was wearing under it.

The dress had cost her a fortune, but it was a drop in the proverbial barrel compared to the magic garments worn by some of the party goers. If only because hers lacked that magic touch, Lostariel started to feel out of place. Behind her mask, her purple eyes fluttered in the wake of this realization.

Perhaps she wouldn't be able to attract him; perhaps she had lost him forever.

-No, just think positive. Take a deep breath and listen.-

She did. Deep through her nose, filtering out the pungent scent of her wine. Magic had a certain scent to it and this place was no different-- it brushed across her skin like a familiar warmth, it ran its tendrils through her subconscious and tempted with the promise of warmth to come. It was strangely intoxicating. She took another breath and became more acutely aware of the scent of something definitely familiar.

It smelled like home.

Curious, Lostariel discretely pulled away from the men that were trying to court her, fabricating some excuse about food and fainting. They were barely worth her time as it was, but this scent. This scent meant a lot. Someone had something that didn't belong to them.

She found the source of the scent at one of the couches beside the buffet. A young débutante in a gold and silk dress was whispering to a redheaded woman. The redhead reeked of that home scent-- it smelled of her father's hoard.

From what she knew of her father's tastes, maybe it wasn't terribly surprising. She was a thick woman, a generous chest, slender waist line and hips that looked as though they were meant to bear children. Lostariel hadn't been gifted with the same bust but she knew good breeding stock when she saw it. She gave the woman another appraising look as she walked over to the buffet table to get something to eat.

It wasn't unheard of for her father to breed with humanoids. It -was- uncommon for them to be living anywhere but beyond the fog. -Curious. Very curious.-

"I'm telling you, Sarah, I can't! My father would have my head!"

When the redhead spoke, her voice was a warm, sultry purr that tingled Lostariel's senses deep down. It was as though someone had poured honey over her very soul. "I would dare not place you in danger, but you must understand. Should I not be able to leave, I'll surely not be able to ensure he has what he desires, will I?" She had a strong western accent, much stronger than Lostariel's own.

"B-- But--"

"Think about it this way..." The woman slid closer to the girl and for the first time Lostariel glimpsed her pointed ears through the silky copper hair. She ran her index finger over the girl's shoulder. "I will see to it both of you are pleased, but I require one small thing to get started. A little travel pass. Nothing more."

"But--" the girl stopped when Sarah leaned over and kissed her ear.

She was whispering as Lostariel turned away. "I can be exceptionally grateful, sweetheart. Or should we tell him why you shouldn't be wearing white to your wedding?"

"I-- I--"

"Let's not argue, dear. Get the travel pass and meet me at the south gate." Sarah pulled back and motioned her on. "Off you go."

The moment of confusion passed and the girl stood up, wandering off into the crowd. Sarah watched her go and only when she was out of sight did her true body language start to manifest-- a hollow, tired looking woman hiding behind a mask of a civility and charm. Like most nobles, she was probably riding an inflated sense of self worth brought on by having more money than common sense.

"Did you enjoy the show?" She abruptly looked to Lostariel.

Maybe not. "I'm sorry?"

"Come now, there's no need to be coy." She patted the bench beside her and made room. When Lostariel didn't join her, she leaned forward and smiled up at her. "I was gifted with a sense for when I'm being watched, dear, so please. If something you see interests you, perhaps it would be better to start with a name and a friendly hello, hm?"

Lostariel downed the rest of her wine in one quick swig, set the glass down and met the woman's masked gaze. "What're you implying?"

She grinned a catty tell-all smile. She honestly believed she was superior, or knew something that she wasn't going to let on, at the very least. In the moment it took her to lean forward, the older woman looked Lostariel over with a slow, deliberate gaze until she met her eyes, smiled. "I imply nothing that doesn't begin with a curiosity in one's own heart dear. And I dare say, yours is a very curious one indeed."

"Maybe so..."

"Alas, were time infinite, I would love nothing more than to indulge that curiosity. Sadly, I have somewhere to be." She stood just a half-head taller than Lostariel but when she took to her feet, her presence somehow seemed to grow. She stepped closer with that same smile in place. "It shames me to leave the presence of someone so beautiful with doubt in eyes so warm, but the hour is late." She turned to leave.

"Wait." Lostariel grabbed her forearm. The woman pulled her arm free with no visible effort. Stronger than she looked, too. Interesting. When the woman's masked gaze settled on her, she actually had a split second of doubt. She decided to forgo delicacy. "What do you know about dragons?"

That caught the woman. She blinked. Recovered. "Enough to know that after the night I've had, I have no patience nor time to deal with such silliness. Fair eve, beautiful gambler."

Lostariel waited a moment for her to slip into the crowd and make her way towards the front door. She sniffed her palm, memorizing the scent-- her father's gold, sweat, lilac, gunpowder, and blood. Lostariel took another deep pull of the scent and went back to the party. She was going to have to pay that woman a personal visit some time soon.

With that thought she turned back to the ballroom, scanning the clusters of nobles idly. The usual groups were already forming, leaving swaths of the floor completely without trickle nor trace of gold costumes. She prowled those open spaces, listening for the sound of Mairosan's voice. A casual glance towards the massive hour glass at the top of sweeping arch stairs let her know that she had several hours until the masks came off, but she had to be gone long before that.

He wasn't the only one she needed to find, he was just the most interesting. Mariosan had-- and still was, by some accounts-- a purveyor of fine cloth and silk thread from the deep south, while also making a fair bit of his fortune selling illicit Boran plants to drug smugglers up north. She didn't blame him, really; textiles may have clothed the world, but Boran buds made poverty bearable.

Perhaps that was a poor comment on her outlook, but humans were tragic creatures by design. Nothing she could say or do would change that, so why get wrapped around who was right or wrong? Everyone needed money.

Even the guards that patrolled the second level balconies of the foyer. She had counted five, including the one trying to remain hidden by the velvet drapes at the corners overlooking the stairs. Money kept them armored, armed and fed... It wouldn't keep them safe, though. Not from her.

"So then I said--" Mariosan's voice cut through the haze, prickling her senses like fine wine. She scanned the crowd but couldn't find him amongst the tangle of costumed torsos. Damn her body for being so short. She slipped in amongst the cattle, following the sound of his voice and pointedly ignoring peoples attempts to engage her in conversation. By the time she found him he was tipping back a glass of wine.

Handsome, young and vibrant. Three words that could only touch on the depths of his charms. He had broad shoulders, a strong jaw and the kind of eyes that one could swim in if they had the courage to dive.

Lostariel hated swimming, though.

For all his strengths-- and they were many-- he had just as many faults. Not the least of which was the six mistresses he tried to keep hidden from his wife. She'd seen them around the city, clinging to his arm like the sleeve of the cashmere coat he was wearing, but strangely none of them were here tonight. Nor was his wife, for that matter. She smiled a private grin. This may have just gotten easier.

With her most practiced high born voice, she purred, "The Bosahks didn't object to your trade negotiations? My, you must be very persuasive."

"Hm?" He turned his attention from the group he'd been entertaining and looked down to her. There was a split second where he looked her over, she arched her body ever so slightly to show off her best assets while still appearing coy-- easterners had strange ideas about a woman's place in polite conversation and it didn't pay to threaten those notions. "I've been known to swoon the savage soul, as the saying goes."

-Sooth, you moron, Sooth the savage soul.- Lostariel smiled politely. "Forgive my presumption, but I was under the impression that the Bosahk government refused to trade with anyone this far south. How ever did you manage?"

A twinkle fired in his eyes and she knew she had his interest. He hadn't changed a bit in the last three years; business was second only to women in his mind. When you could combine the two and get the better end of the deal, though? That's where he really lit up. Lostariel tilted her head in a vaguely interested display as though what he might say next would be important to her. In some ways, it was. He would set the tone for their dance.

"There are secrets every business man has to know in order to be successful-- I wager your husband could teach you a thing or two...?" He arched a brow at her, fishing playfully. A smile lit his face when she raised her hand to show she had no ring. "Ah, yes, of course! A strong independent woman such as yourself looking to open her own trade lines perhaps?"

"I would not think of... intruding on such a gentleman's court, no! Heavens forbid, I ask merely out of curiosity."

"Hm!" He laughed boisterously, giving her another once over. This time it was slower and over the rim of his glass of wine. When he was done, he smiled at her. "You have the look of someone who enjoys a good hand of poker now and then, am I right?"

She smiled and took an inch of the space between them, meeting his gaze. She reached up and touched his forearm with a slender finger. "What's life without a gamble now and then, hm?"

"Quite right, dear." He sipped his wine and gave her a final once over. Apparently, not finding what he was looking for, he excused himself from his group and offer his hand. "Perhaps we should talk about this somewhere more private?"

"Oh, but I would not take you from such fine company to satisfy my... interest."

"Nonsense! Pffah. Jerald, excuse me, my oratory skills are needed to enlighten this poor girl."

"By all means."

When he was a couple steps away, Lostariel looped her hand around his arm, smiling beneath her mask. He had been keeping up with his fitness, at least. She stroked his bicep with her thumb. "So how did you convince them to open their market to you?"

"Well, it started three years ago after... an accident." He lead them towards the fringes of the foyer, nearer the front of the mansion and, she noticed, out of earshot of some of the guards and servants. "Ever since then-- almost dying and all-- I discovered a new purpose to life. A new take on things, you might say!"

She blinked and tried to act surprised. "You nearly died? Heavens, it's a miracle then, isn't it?"

"It was raw nerve and skill that got me out of that situation. I looked death straight in the eyes and it blinked first!"

Lostariel fluttered her lashes, as much to tease him as to amuse herself. "What did it look like?"

He paused to collect himself. "Well, I suppose," another moment, "it looked like a divine wind of change. Tell me miss..."

"Call me Tanya."

"Tanya," he nodded. "Do you know what a Valkyrie is?"

"An arch angel of Theloris?"

He barked a laugh. "Oh, you are a clever one, miss Tanya. Right you are! Theloris, goddess and queen of battles spared me that day and She delivered unto me a message!" He looked around conspiratorially. "She told me that I was to seek out new adventures and show no fear in anything I did. Being the business savvy individual I am, I applied Her lesson to my war against poverty!" He smiled. "You might say I'm a financial warrior for this city and its people."

"Oh, I have no doubt. It must be so... hard to fight such a battle alone." She deliberately, slowly, trailed her finger along his arm, touched his hand with a featherlight brush of her fingertips. When he glanced at her hand she met his gaze and rested her palm atop his knee. "You, with no support to watch your back as you brave the unknown sectors of the market."

The large man looked at her for a moment, a creeping smirk pulling at his lips. Lostariel mirrored it. "Are you suggesting I need help, miss Tanya?"

"Are you afraid of accepting it?" She retorted with a sly smile as her hand trailed up his thigh. She held his gaze unwaveringly. "Surely I'm not that intimidating?"

He shifted his weight ever so slightly with the briefest glance towards the party. "You may be pushing on my one weakness..."

"Have I already found it?" She tilted her head slightly and put on a playful smile. "Well," her finger traced the now rigid muscle of his inner thigh. "perhaps we should explore it further and see what else I've learned."

"Ah," that caught him off guard. "You're rather direct, aren't you?"

Lostariel smiled her best practiced grin. "Does that bother you, mister merchant? Confidence in the fairer sex?"

For just a split second she could see concern flicker in his eyes.

She smiled another rehearsed grin, stepping in front of him. His chest swelled as he sucked in a breath. "Do I see my noble hero unraveling before my very eyes?"

"Surely not I!" The concern flashed and died, replaced by a dreary ember of lust that would need kindling if she hoped to keep his attention. She playfully stoked the fire with the palm of her hand, brushing against his groin with her palm. She tilted her head up to look at him. "Ah, y- Yes. Well..."

"Perhaps somewhere more private for a more thorough discourse on the... ins and outs of trade negotiation?"

He closed his eyes with a soft murr of approval. "I know just the place."

Her gaze flicked left and right, scanning the crowd for any guards mixed amongst the party goers. "Good." Just then her hand slid over a familiar girth, too small to really wrap her hand around it, she stroked it firmly with a coy glance up through the furrows of her own mask. He hadn't changed at all... None of him had. She smiled at that and drank in his scent. There was no reason she couldn't enjoy herself, couldn't she?

"Tanya..."

"Mmm?"

"Let's walk and talk, lest I not be able to maintain myself in polite company, shall we?"

She pouted her lips in that certain way that said she knew how to do a lot more with them if he'd let her. "Perhaps you are right, but that doesn't mean I have to agree with it."

"Ah, yes, but... Come this way." He glanced over her head-- not hard considering she barely came up to his chest. "Right," he whispered. "This way."

It was a surreal feeling to see his back to her and immediately her heart swelled against her ribs, a sweep of rage boiled through her mind only to die off in the next breath. It was a sensation not her own and immediately she knew it was her father-- something had gone wrong. Nothing she couldn't deal with, surely, but it still set her nerves on hyper awareness.

The entire party seemed to brighten. Conversations became more animated and lively with layers of undertone to every breath. Colors became instantly more vivid and the scents of more than a hundred different types of cooked animals set her mouth watering. Then there was Mariosan's scent. Anticipation, a kind of excitement.

Something else. His wasn't the only scent of anticipation. Someone nearby was tense. Fearful. But as she passed them, none of the nobles batted so much as an eye towards her.

-Relax, you're too sensitive.- She forced herself to take several deep breaths, exhaling them slowly through her nose until the sensations started to dull, more and more until she had full control of herself once more. There was a time for that but now was not it. She couldn't let her father's emotions boil over into her when there was so much at stake.

"So, where are we going?" She whispered as they stepped through the eastern doors into a hall lit by crystal scones.

"First time in the Bithram estate, is it?"

"It is." She lied. The hall was arranged with pieces of portraits of elven women each more beautiful than the last, with marble pillars acting as honor guards that held the high arched ceiling up and accented the sapphire tinted windows overlooking the courtyard. To the uninitiated, those windows were merely pretty glass, but anyone with a magical pact or even the truly adept mundanes could feel the magic deadening properties at a distance. She kept to the right side of the hall way, feigning interest in the portraits. "She's beautiful."

"The duchess? That she is, only gotten more beautiful as she's gotten older-- we should all be so lucky!"

"I suppose so." Lostariel, of course, knew the truth about the lies the 'elf' had told to get to her station in life, she also knew that there as a considerable bounty on her head in some of the shadier circles. But only the truly insane went after a dragon in disguise. If not for her father's agreement with the Silver Scale, Lostariel might have toyed with the idea of hunting her, too.

But then, right now, she had other targets on her mind. Lostariel looped her arm around Mariosan's and grinned up at his glance. Yes, how much she'd missed him... Three long years of searching and finally, tonight, she was going to catch up on old acquaintances. Then the rest of the evening would be hers.

They rounded the corner into a small tea room with a single door. He unerringly lead her through the door and into a larger room that already had the faint undertones of recent sex. The party hadn't been going for more than a couple hours, but it seemed some people weren't inclined to waste time. As far as places went to bring ones mistress, it certainly could have been worse; clean linens, a candle gently glowing on a polished dresser with a full length mirror facing the 4 post bed, all draped in rich purple velvet.

It was a shame she was going to get it dirty. Without preamble Lostariel slid into the room and traced a finger along the dresser, glancing back at the man. Three years, three. Long. Years. The reason for her tarnished reputation and, more than that, the reason she had to explain to her father why she was still fit to do her job.

"So!" She turned with a bright smile. "You were going to explain to me how you convinced the Bosahk government to allow you to trade in their region."

"Yes, I was." The large framed man turned and locked the door, flashing a smile at her. "See, it starts with good oration. The trick to it, nay the very core of good peace talks." In the dim light his confidence bolstered enough that he stripped the mask from his handsome features and set it down on the dresser, closing the distance between them. "Tell me, little Tanya. What do you know about oratory?"

She chuckled and danced away. "Oh, I know a thing or two... Would you like me to show you?" With those words she slid her weight back against the dresser and took a half seat, ensuring her cloak still covered her back side and the blades hidden there.

"I think I'd like that."

"I knew you would," she grinned as he stepped up to her. Her hand delicately brushed over his belt buckle. "But perhaps you can show me your oration too? I enjoy a good story..."

Mariosan dared to reach up and run his fingers through her hair. "Is that so little Tanya? What story would you like to hear?"

Lostariel looked up at him as she slipped his belt. Next came the button of his trousers. The velveteen cloth was already straining with his growing erection as a wave of his natural scent filtered through the newly made opening. The silk under shorts he wore were straining outwards toward her, inviting her attention. "Why don't you tell me about that trade deal?"

"Terribly dry, really, are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I wouldn't want you to..." she trailed off, sliding her tongue over her lips as she looked up at him with a smile. Meanwhile, her hands brushed up his thighs and she took the belt like of his pants. With a soft push she unwrapped his package from the confines of silk. Gods, he hadn't changed a bit-- her breath caught momentarily and it wasn't entirely forced. His cock looked nearly as thick as her wrist, arched gently and nearly half as long as her forearm. It twitched at being freed and Lostariel felt a sudden rush of heat at the familiar sight.

Three years had been far too long...

He was looking down at her appraising. She smiled at him, suddenly grateful for the mask hiding her blush. One last time wouldn't hurt, would it? No. No, it wouldn't. "I don't think this is going to work..." He started to say.

"Shhh," she sighed across the tip of his cock. "Tell me a story." Lostariel took a deep drag from the man's deeply exotic scent, brushing her cheek against his warm shaft. He smelled so familiar and warm... She turned her head and kissed his penis, bringing her hand down the opposite side. He had kept himself trimmed even after all this time. "Go on."

"Well... I," he sighed softly. "I went to them to prove it could be done... I marched straight to the prince and told him I had a deal that would make him rich." His breath faltered a bit when Lostariel slid up his shaft, planting kisses along the way until she reached the tip. "I-- I-- I didn't accept no for an answer," he was looking down at her now, eyes blurry with anticipation.

"I can appreciate that," she murmured a hot breath across his head. In the next moment she slipped her lips over the bulbous tip of his thick member. Sealing her lips around it left a little trail of pink lipstick when she pushed down, swirling her tongue over the underside even as she gave a gentle suck.

"O- Oh, I bet you can."

Lostariel closed her eyes half way and just drank in his scent-- it was always her favorite part and he was no different. He was healthy and strong, just the way he should have been. She smiled to herself, twisting her head and grabbing on to him with her left hand. She twisted her hand slowly and her mouth the opposite way, sucking all the more. She pulled his foreskin back with her lips, sliding down on his hot, salty tasting cock until she had his head pressing against her tongue.

Mariosan sighed an distinctly ungentlemanly moan. "Gods, woman..." and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. "If you keep this up..."

She purred a low rumbling sigh of contentment and started to draw back. He could lord over her for a while, it wasn't shameful to enjoy the fruits of ones labor, after all. The young woman chuckled quietly to herself and turned her head in the opposite direction, causing her brown hair to sway down her shoulders. She worked harder, faster, pushing and pulling the skin of his dick up and down in her mouth until she thought she was going to paint his cock pink with her lipstick. That thought brought with it an idea. She pushed herself down just a little more and forced the tip into her throat-- carefully suppressing her gag reflex.

He stood patiently, content to let her have control. For his patience she rewarded him with a soft moan as she pressed the tip into her throat and attempted to swallow down on it. She was too well trained to give into the rising panic in the back of her mind. The voice that told her she couldn't breathe. Instead she forced herself down on it further. Further and further, she kept her lips working until she had more than half in. He wasn't the only one who could change over three years.

"Gods above-- T- Tanya..." He braced both hands on her shoulders now, pushing into her throat a little. Thankfully he stopped when she put her hand on him. "Sorry."

Slowly she pulled him out of her throat and coughed. Still hadn't mastered that part, it seemed. She inhaled deeply and went back to her original plan-- twisting her lips and her hand around his cock in opposite directions. Every time she pushed his foreskin back his cock twitched in her mouth, urging her on to greater lengths. "Mmmrrrmmmm."

"L- Lady Tanya." He jerked forward. "I-- C- Can I?"

She looked up at him through hazy eyes and placed her hands on his hips. "Carefully." She breathed over his cock, turning her head again. She lapped at him eagerly, no longer thinking about what was to come but enjoying what could be at that moment. Lostariel knew better than to get into this. Was she insane? Oh, but his -smell-, gods, no man smelled like he did this far east-- no, this was perfectly within her right.

Not only was it within her right. He -belonged- to her. Lostariel closed her eyes and willed that stupid voice of doubt away. He was hers until the end, no one was going to take that from her. Not even her own doubts. This was going to be something for her. Just. For. Her.

Mariosan let out another moan, his body arched towards her face, pushing deeper into the hot confines of her mouth as she swirled it around the underside of his member. Her hand worked him faster, harder, pumping for everything she could while her mouth worked equally as hard. Up and down, inviting-- demanding he surrender to her. It wasn't long before he did. His hands braced on her shoulders as he pushed forward again.

This time he didn't withdraw. His back arched and with a primal growl he thrust into her mouth. Again. Again-- this time unleashing a torrent of hot cum that blasted into her tongue and instantly coated the back of her throat. He unloaded one stream after another in quick, rhythmic succession, jerking forward and half doubling over the small woman. Eventually it slowed and stopped. He slumped forward and braced on her shoulder with a deeply satisfied groan. "Gods above."

Lostariel swallowed the massive load, relishing the aftertaste as she fought to keep it all in her mouth. She swallowed and swallowed, lapping eagerly at his cock for any last bit. When it was clear he was spent she pulled back and licked her lips, savoring the last trickle of his essence. In the hazy afterglow, she found herself whispering, "It's been too long--" A flair of panic sparked in her but if he'd heard her, he didn't say anything.

Mariosan really hadn't changed in all this time. Pitiable, really. She had been expecting more of a challenge.

He sat back on the bed with a sigh and gently laid his head down upon the velvet comforter, already half asleep with that satisfied smirk he always wore after their lovemaking-- no. Not lovemaking. It was just a blowjob.

Since when had she gotten so sentimental?

Lostariel waited a moment before she licked her lips and wandered over to the bed. She braced her thigh against the bed, eying him. Had she been the only one to ever put that smile on his face? In their year together she hadn't seem him smile that way for anyone else, and yet--

-Job. He's just a job.- Her hand slid under her cloak, slipped the thong on one of her blades. It was just a job. She slunk to the edge of the bed and nestled her powerful thigh against his waist, a deep breath passed her lips while she adjusted her grip. She couldn't afford to let him get away this time. She had to be sure.

His chest rose and fell slowly under his gold doublet. She ran her finger down his chest for the last time, smiling to herself at the memories of what they had shared. He would have made a good husband, even with the gambling problem, he was still a good man. Kind, caring, good in bed.

But he was a job. The only one who'd ever gotten away, and now...

She clutched the dagger in both hands and hoisted it above her head. She'd make sure this time.

Before she had finished raising the blade a warm sensation swept over her like a summer breeze. It was immediate and consuming, the kiss of powerful magic that took form beside the bed as a glowing serpentine dragon faded in from the ether.

It was rare for her father's avatar to visit, much less in such a grand fashion, but the irritation and anger she could feel radiating off him in waves set the hair on her neck on edge. She wouldn't let it stop her, though. Even half blinded by the brilliant blue glow of his presence, she kept her focus on her target.

Mariosan, however, was not so cooperative. He squinted against the light and stirred. As Lostariel started to plunge the blade down he blinked. The razor edged blade sliced through the distance between them but he was just that much faster-- whether by adrenaline or fear-- he grabbed her forearms with the blade only inches from cutting a hole in his pristine doublet.

"Hello, father." Lostariel braced her foot on the floor, trying to work up a better angle. She couldn't fail in front of him, especially not now. Mariosan flailed. He was too strong. There was no way she was going to be able to get enough leverage.

"What-- What're you doing?!"

-Just business. Just a job.- The words ran through her mind faster than she could comprehend. -Don't stop.- Sensing her father's displeasure the elf-blooded assassin shoved up so her entire bodyweight was over him. Even this didn't buy her much purchase and in seconds he was pushing her up. "Stop this! Help!" He cried to whomever might be listening.

"I am beginning to think," her father's deep guttural voice cut through her like a sword. "I was wrong to send you."

"I'm ready!"

"What?!" Mariosan growled and shove at her. "Tanya--"

Her father's avatar slithered around to observe from a different angle. "My patience is thin. You are not ready."

"I am ready!" Lostariel strained to choke out. She pushed forward, trying use Mariosan's strength against him. She was just about to knee him in the stomach when he swung his foot out and slammed it into her thigh. "Oof!"

Using her momentum, she ducked and rolled off the bed. Her mask came undone as she crashed into the carpeting and nearly slammed into the wall. In a second she was back on her feet to find Mariosan, pants half way around his thighs, running towards the door. The draconic avatar shifted his bright feline eyes towards the man though its muzzle remained firmly pointed at Lostariel herself.

She upended her dagger between her fingers deftly-- in one smooth motion she channeled her father's power into her body. It flooded into her and in the next breath she flung the dagger. Her target tripped and stumbled just low enough that the heavy dagger cut only the crown of his scalp before it punched into the heavy door with a solid -thock.-

-You must be kidding me.-

Mariosan had the door half open before Lostariel could vault the bed and grab another blade. She surged forward through her father's avatar and pounced on to her target's back. They spilled through the open door like a wave with Lostariel straddling his lower back. She raised the dagger.

Someone grabbed her.

She looked up. Her heart sunk.

Private guards weren't uncommon in a noble's ball, not even those wearing House attire, but the eight of them that surrounded her were wearing full corslets of polished steel atop impeccably tailored velvet clothing. Their cloaks were clasped with familiar family crests. Each one of them bore the crests of her other targets. All five of them had representatives.

One of the men had a sword to her throat in an instant. She held up her hand in a show of surrender. This was not how she had planned it. Not at all.

Her father huffed his displeasure as he strode out of the room, his avatar growing in size to dwarf her. It dominated the hall and yet she was the only one who seemed to notice it. His eyes, each now larger than her head flicked over the group dismissively. When he finally deemed her worthy of his attention it sent a shiver down her body.

The guards hauled her up to her feet in time to see five people trundle around the corner. Four men and one woman. Each of them had their gaze settled on her, noses upturned, lips parted in smug satisfaction. And why shouldn't they? Draped in costumes so lavish that the sun itself would have to struggle to compete with the radiance from the filigree, they may as well have owned the world. They strode through her father's massive avatar, completely oblivious to it before the fattest of the men dared a few feet closer to his guards, and his prey.

"The venerable Ace of Diamonds, I presume?" he smiled at her. It was the carnal grin of someone used to getting their way. "You've caused quite a ruckus, young lady. Not proper, not proper at all. I can't have you bloodying up the carpet, now can I?"

Mariosan had since retreated from the circle of guards. "Thank the gods you showed up, that girl was about to--"

Lostariel forced herself to smile, steeling her nerves as she took her mask off. "They used you, Mariosan."

At the sound of his name he looked back at her. He blinked. "Y- You? You?!"

She looked at him evenly, half smiling. "Surprise?"

"B- But--..." he trailed off as the realization finally sunk in. Turning back to the group of nobles, he practically screamed. "You set me up?! She could have killed me!"

"A necessary risk, I'm afraid." The fat man sauntered towards her swirling his wine. He took a sip and met her gaze. "Now, what are we to do with you, little girl?"

Lostariel shifted her weight ever so slightly, already planning out her next moves. The guards were spread out enough, she could get through them. Break the glass and be on her way. At worst they might get a lucky hit on her, easily deflected by the adamant plates in her leathers. Yet Mariosan was going to get away.

Her father looked down his muzzle at her. Irritation flared across her senses like a stiff brush ripping chunks of her flesh as it passed. "You have been a -waste- of time."

-I'm prepared, father. I've trained! I've studied! I've learned what you taught me... - She shifted her weight a little in the soldier's grip as the nobles yammered on. -Let me show you.-

He huffed a gout of translucent flame. His gaze lingered on her for so long that she was sure she might burst into flames from the sheer heat of his rage. He spoke slowly, carefully, as though each word was precious. "You have until dawn. Do not disappoint me." And then he disappeared.

When she next blinked an image of a beautiful redheaded woman seared itself into her very being-- the image came with a wave of thoughts and expressions, feelings of anger, loss, pain. Her too-human brain tried to make sense of it in one large chunk but she could barely comprehend everything she was being shown. Weakness wracked her mind suddenly and she slumped only to be yanked back to her feet by the solider. "Kill her. Or die." Her father's voice rippled across her soul.

"So, now," the fat man-- Lord Beyon-- was saying. "What shall I do with you?"

"I still can't believe you set me up."

"I think..." One of the men wandered past the guards until he was dangerously close. Didn't he realize what he was doing? He leaned in and looked Lostariel over with a sly grin. "I think we'll take you to the ball in proper fashion."

Mariosan looked back. "What?"

"Bring her into the ball room. We have an announcement to make."

That's when she saw the anti-magic collar one of the guards was carrying.

Oh no.

To be Continued ...?

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