Things were starting to get weird. Virian hadn’t told the nobles—or anyone other than sergeant Rose about Ivy—yet everything lately seemed to revolve around her. For three days those wretched warriors of the church had squatted in his home. He had tried everything possible to stop them from forcing their way in, but had failed. The Council wanted the witch found as badly as the church.

The witch. The two words haunted him. A past he could not forget once again threatened to repeat itself. He was almost certain he knew who they were looking for. The girl had basically given it away six years ago. More than that, he was pretty sure he kept seeing her everywhere. Once the paladins left the palace to continue their search elsewhere, her dagger had vanished from his room, and she had started popping up again and again. But only to him.

Sergeant Rose had also returned after the paladins had left, but like everyone else, she had nothing for him, and also had not seen Ivy. No one had. Except for Virian. Was he really going insane? No. Madeline had been there and seen it all as well. Though he doubted she was still seeing the petite assassin around every corner. So what was it, really? No one else seemed to notice or remember her at all. If Ivy was stalking him, for what purpose? He felt…no, knew that it wasn’t to kill him.

Argh! He was going crazy. It had been five days since the nobles had come and gone, and he had heard nothing from anyone about anything useful concerning Ivy or the notorious Dragonfly. All that existed was a pile of documents on his desk full of guesses and rumors. Some of the nobles were convinced the witch was the one dwindling their numbers in the dead of night. Virian had a hard time disagreeing with that conclusion.

He shuffled through the loose parchment while adjusting his position on his cushioned, high-backed wooden chair until he felt the blood flowing again through his backside. He had been in his office since morning reading through the drivel scattered about, and if the fading light from the window was any indication, it was nearing dinnertime.

No one had proof of anything. No one but him. He couldn't ignore the events that kept occurring around him that no one else seemed to notice, despite the current witch hunt. A spilled goblet out of nowhere when no one had been nearby. A missing maid. A missing groomsman. More than once, someone in his path had randomly tripped, forcing him to jump over them. He was pretty sure he never saw any of those people again either. Each one of these events he swore had been accompanied by an Ivy sighting. No one else made the connection.

It wasn’t as though he saw saw her. It would be more like a flash of her hair, or a gleam of the dagger at her hip. But it had to be. She was everywhere and nowhere.

A knock on his door woke him from his Ivy-induced stupor.

“Come in,” he said.

The door swung on creaking metal hinges that reminded him he would need to ask the servants to fix. In stepped Sergeant Rose wearing not her uniform, but a light, airy turquoise dress that only accentuated her unnatural allure. Once again, he had to force himself to stay focused in her presence. She shut the door, offered a shallow bow despite her attire, and then approached the desk.

“Your highness,” she said.

Virian closed his eyes to avoid getting lost in the sapphires of her own that were highlighted by the dress. “Please tell me you have something.”

He had recently insisted the sergeant report to him once a day whether she had news or not. He had also relieved her of all duty save for his secret mission.

“I still cannot find her,” she said. He could hear the frown in her voice. Her tone was almost hostile, like she had expected to be successful after such a short time. Virian had been hopeful, but not expectant. He peeled open his eyes, tramping down all his male instincts.

“You look disappointed,” he said, “are you particularly adept at tracking a person down? Truthfully, I did not choose you because of such a skill.”

Her expression deepened.

“Yes,” was all she said.

“Is something wrong?”

“Many things are wrong, your highness. Starting with the fact that an assassin broke into your room in the middle of the night.”

Sure, there was that. But that wasn’t what he was talking about. Or thinking about. She knew it as well. The confident sergeant who had gone as far as teasing him from last week was no longer standing before him. Her left hand held down at her side was fidgeting with her dress, and her usual firm stance was askew.

Before he could say more, the sergeant spoke again, “I apologize, but I have nothing else to report.”

"Nothing at all? What have you been doing?"

Sergeant Rose rolled her eyes but kept her tone respectful.

"I am attempting to fulfill your 'secret mission.'"

Virian let out a long breath.

"Yes, of course. And what about the rumors?”

"You speak of Prince Armond?" Virian raised an eyebrow at the name. "Sorry. Most know him as the 'Bloody Prince.'"

"Right," he nodded, "many have speculated the Dragonfly works for the man."

For several moments the sergeant stayed quiet. Her face betrayed nothing, until finally she spoke again, “And you are still convinced this girl Ivy is both the Dragonfly and the assassin who came to you?” Virian nodded. "Then I will speak to Prince Armond tonight."

“Alright, yes…okay,” he rubbed his chin, “wait, you what?”

“I'm already dressed appropriately,” she said.

Virian took another moment to admire her in a dress and shook his head.

"Are you sure about that? You intend to go there alone?"

"I'll be fine, your highness" she said with a smirk. "Or would you prefer I kick down the door in a guardsman uniform?"

She made a good point, but that still didn't explain how she planned on getting out of that den of criminals unscathed, much less interrogating their leader.

“I’m not sure how—”

“I assure you, your concern in unwarranted.”

Uh, okay. If she insisted.

“You can find her, right?”

“All of your questions will end tonight, your highness.”

End, not answered. He didn't miss the distinction. In any case, the sergeant's confidence had returned, and just like when he had asked her to help him, he got the sense that the sergeant was more than she appeared.

“Who are you really, sergeant?”

She bowed. “Good night, your highness.”

Sergeant Rose spun on her heel and left without dismissal as per usual. He had no choice but to simply wait and trust in her, but something about her delivery gave him the impression that he would never see her again. Or find what he was looking for.

Virian rolled over in bed, groaning at the dragging, scraping sound that continued to assault his ears.

“Be quiet,” he muttered, and the noise stopped. Perfect. And now…

An adorable sounding feminine grunt hit him next. Huh?

“Why are you so heavy!?”

The voice came to him like a whispered shout. He rubbed his eyes and craned his neck to find two shadows in the darkness off to one side of his bed. Finally realizing what was going on, he shot upright, and the dark silhouette that was still standing jumped with a little squeal.

“Hello?” he asked, not really intimidated by the little girl who had invaded his room. For a second time. It had to be her.

“Uhm, hi,” the voice said.

A bit more of the sleep fading from his eyes, he saw both of her arms reaching down, grasped to another set of arms of a downed figure.

“So,” he said, “what is it exactly you’re doing in my room?”

Her head swiveled to the only exit.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It’s pretty dark.”

“Oh. Should I light a candle?”

Virian blinked a few times. Much of the haze still clinging to his eyelids faded.

“No, that’s okay. I think I got the gist of it. You seem to be dragging a corpse to the doorway?”

Silence for a moment.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

In fact, she resumed her work after answering. Well, she resumed trying. Her efforts were not very successful. She got maybe half a pace of progress before Virian spoke again.

“So, who was he?”

“Don’t know,” she said after a little grunt, “didn’t stop to chat. Did you want to help?”

“Not really. I’m kind of enjoying this.”

She dropped the dead man’s wrists and shrugged.

“It’s your carpet he’s ruining. I was just trying to be nice.”

“Nice? Is that what you call murdering a man in my bedroom? Is he one of the servants?”

“Like I said before, I don’t know who he is.”

Virian sighed. Obviously he needed to be more direct.

“So then, can I ask why you killed him?”

The girl trod over to the table where Virian normally had his breakfast but had been abstaining lately. Now, it held only a half empty bottle of Cornarian fruit wine. She lifted it with one hand and tilted it back, taking a long swig straight from the bottle.

“Should I have let him kill you, then?” she asked.

“So he was an assassin sent for me, like you were?”

Virian moved to throw off the sheets and stand, but her response stopped him.

“No, not like me. I changed my mind.”

“How do you know he wouldn’t have? Did you give him the chance?”

Another big gulp of wine.

“I shoulda let him. Or the past dozen. You’re annoying.”

She sat at the table now, continuing to polish off the bottle. Virian took the moment to rise and throw on a loose white tunic that he had thrown on the floor before jumping into bed. The past dozen, was it? Had that been all those sightings before? She had been keeping him alive this whole time.

When he reached the table, the bottle had been knocked sideways and the girl was slumped over the tabletop, eyes closed. He sat and tried to get a good look at her, but the lighting and her position made it difficult.

“This stuff is so good,” she said.

“Yeah. It’s my secret weapon.” Her eyes opened and she glared at him. “You seem pretty comfortable given your situation.”

She scoffed. “I could say the same thing about you. You’re the only one in danger right now.”

“There’s a half battalion of guards right outside.”

“No one can stop me. Certainly not you, nor your ‘half battalion.’”

Virian didn’t know what to think. Looking at her, he figured he could probably throw her across the room pretty easily. Yet if he was right about everything, it meant that she was also the most successful assassin the city had ever known. And more than that, a witch. He had suspected it that first night they had met, and now it was one of the only things that made sense. If she could wield sorcery, it could explain a lot.

She got up and started moving around in the darkness, headed for his armoire.

“You got more of that wine?” she asked.

He figured he might as well go for it.

“Ivy?” he said.

The girl froze, her arms halfway into his unused clothes.

“W-where’d you hear that name?”

“From you.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

She returned to the table and plopped down. Her eyes were crystalized emeralds gleaming in the darkness.

“I’ve never met you before.”

“Have you forgotten already?" Virian asked. "And I was planning to collect on that loan with interest.”

“You said it was a gift!”

“Ha!”

Ivy let her head fall into her hands.

“I don’t even know why I cared,” she said, muffled by her palms, “I have so much money now it doesn’t even matter.”

Virian smiled, though he was unsure if she could see it based on how much he could see of her.

“I knew you recognized me.”

“There was no way I could forget.”

They sat in silence for a few moments before Virian could no longer stand it.

“I think I will get that candle.”

“Bring more wine,” she said.

Virian stood, fumbled his way through the darkness to the opposite side of the room where a small, waist high cabinet stood. Atop it sat several crystal glasses and bronze goblets, the inside of the former filled with various liquors. It also housed a candle or two and fire sticks. He felt around inside until his fingers brushed up against sticks and flint, pulling them out along with a single candle. A couple of sparks later, and the room was filled with flickering orange light.

He started and then stopped to pour a goblet of wine, knowing Ivy that would probably be a waste of time. He brought the cups anyway, bunching them up in his left hand with the candle and its stand while his right hand grasped the bottle. He almost dropped it all when he returned.

Ivy was eying him hungrily and though he knew it was for the wine and not him, he almost couldn’t take it. Through the faint, uneven light of the candle, Virian got his first real look at the Ivy in six years. He could not believe the sight revealed to him under the limited lighting.

Just a few days ago he had thought Sergeant Rose had mesmerized him with her otherworldly grace and beauty, but now he was left speechless. No longer sleep addled or under fear of her dagger, Ivy seemed to reflect the firelight with a radiant glow that should be impossible with such a small flame. It was different than the sergeant, though. Rose possessed a commanding, queenly aura that reminded him of his mother and made him feel smaller in her presence. Ivy was the opposite.

Everything about her made him want to spring forth and touch her. Grab her. Hug her. Possess her. From her straight, silky black locks that fell past her shoulders, to her cute round cheeks and almond eyes, plump pink lips…he needed to have her. Everything about her screamed at him to want her. It didn’t make sense in his head. She was adorable yet alluring in a way he had never experienced. He…oh. Ew. His thoughts were starting to get creepy.

“Uhm, hello?” Ivy said.

Virian blinked and shook his head. He forced his eyes off of her, to the ground.

“W-wha?”

“You’re just standing there.”

“R-right.” He laid the candle down in the center of the table, the wine and goblets beside it. “Here you go.”

Ivy just stared at his delivery.

“You’re not going to pour me a drink?” she asked.

“W-well I thought—”

“You thought I’d go straight for the bottle like some kind of savage?”

He recalled the scene from just several minutes ago.

“I mean—”

Ivy made a little grunting noise and looked away.

“Pour me,” she said.

What choice did he have? He unstoppered the fruit wine, and the sound of it glugging into the goblet was the only sound in the room. He filled one, then both goblets, and placed one in front of her before finally rejoining her at the table. He took a swig, watching her over the rim of the goblet, savoring the fiery sweetness of the alcohol. Ivy, on the other hand, held the goblet up to her mouth for some time, guzzling it down.

“So, why the cup now?” he asked, unsure of its purpose with the way she was drinking.

“I was just nervous before,” she said.

He didn’t remember her ever seeming nervous.

“And you aren’t now?”

“You’re easy to talk to. I thought this was going to be a lot harder.” She took another drink.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

Her eyes flicked to him over her goblet, but she kept drinking. Eventually, she slammed it down, apparently empty.

“Well, for one, there’s a dead guy a few feet from us, but neither of us seem to care.”

Ah. He had almost—no, definitely had—forgotten about that fact.

“Right,” he said.

“But more than that…well. This is kind of embarrassing. I must be really drunk if I’m telling you this.” She sighed. “Whatever. I’ve pretty much idolized you for years. I never expected us to meet again. This is pretty weird for me.”

For her? He couldn’t think of anything in his life stranger than this. Or more exciting.

“Are you…are you saying you’ve had a crush on me since that night?” He grinned.

“Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“I bet,” she said, holding out her goblet to him. He refilled it and she took another drink. “What was the last one’s name? Do you even remember?”

His smile widened.

“Oh you mean Madeline? Don’t worry I think you scared her off for good.”

She downed her second glass faster than the first and collapsed against the table again.

“Ugh, what have you done to me?”

“You mean what have you done to yourself?”

She looked up, though her head was still against the wood.

“This is all your fault! You know that, right? I’m so drunk. Hey, did you know? You…your face.”

Virian touched his cheek with one hand.

“My face?”

She pointed.

“It’s nice.” She sat up suddenly with a jerk. “What did I just say? I didn’t say that, right? I need to get out of here before I say something stupid. Or do something stupid.”

“Like what?”

She pointed again.

“You! Shut up!”

Virian laughed. He couldn’t think of a time he had been spoken to like that ever. Not even his parents had really yelled at him like that. It was…refreshing.

“Uggghhh," Ivy groaned, and fell back against the tabletop, "I'm a dead woman."

Virian flinched, remembering that half the city was looking for her whether they knew it or not.

"you mean—"

"I don't want to go back. Rose really will kill me this time. Hey, pretty governor boy. Can I borrow Brother Couch?”

Brother couch? He would need to unpack that later, but for now…

“Rose?” he asked. “Do you mean Sergeant Rose? You know her?”

Ivy chuckled.

“I live with her, stupid.”

Things were only getting more confusing. And more interesting.

“You do?”

“Yeah, but she’s mad at me. She's always mad at me. I don’t want to go. I’ve been avoiding her. I’m scared.”

Virian couldn’t imagine what Ivy might be scared of, but if he had to choose, Sergeant Rose would be a good guess. There was something about the two women that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

A moan from beyond the table caused them both to stiffen up. Ivy slowly rose and turned in her chair. The supposedly dead man made another sound, and her face twisted in disgust.

“I missed,” she said, then stood on wobbly legs, her dagger already in hand.

“Hey, wait,” Virian held out a hand, but Ivy was already on top of the other man somehow. He hadn’t even seen her move. One moment she was at the table, the next, straddling the dying man.

Virian winced, and then had to look away as Ivy dragged her blade deep across the man’s throat. A gurgling, choking sound filled the room, and then silence. When Virian looked back, Ivy was standing over the table with a cold, blank look on her face.

“I…should go,” she said.

“Y-yeah. Okay.”

“You can handle this?” She waved back at the definitely dead man.

“Sure.”

He had people that would, at least. Ivy nodded, then walked to the double doors that led into the rest of the palace, pushed them open, and disappeared beyond them. He had no idea what she was planning to do about the several guards that lie beyond, but he wasn’t really worried about it at the moment. His eyes were fixed on the body staining his carpets.

Part of him wanted to ask if she would be okay. If she needed help to hide from the paladins or the nobles. He wasn't sure if he abstained because she could clearly take care of herself, or if a tiny part of him wanted her to get captured. What had happened to Ivy since they had first seen each other? He had to remind himself that the pretty, innocent looking girl he had just shared a private drink with was also a ruthless killer. Watching her take that man’s life had all but confirmed it. Ivy was the Dragonfly.