Bartholomew had gathered his things and informed the others about what had happened. Within hours the body was disposed and the home set ablaze to cover their tracks. Firefighters tried their best to extinguish the flames but could do little to stop the inferno fueled by a fire mage.

Cara was glad she did not have to attend the funeral, everyone had seen the two of them leave and nobody asked any questions about why she was not there. She stayed in her room replaying the death of Warren in her mind, the warm blood shooting from his throat and his desperate attempt to seal the wound in his neck.

Bartholomew used the incident as an excuse to leave the village sooner, Goldhill was supposed to be their home in the next year, but now they would be spending a winter in the city. The time when nobility was known for their indulgence in parties and dinners for the lack of other distractions.

It was a busy time for tailors, especially for one that had been eagerly awaited by half of the bluebloods in the city. Cara got of her bed, and walked over to her table where she had cleaned the blades and sharpened them.

The cold metal gleamed in the little light that shone through the covered windows, to her it looked like a faint red glow engulfed the blade like an after image of the blood it had spilled.

She was about to clean it again when Bartholomew's voice sounded through the door.

"Cara we are going to leave at noon, make sure you have everything you need with you. The trip is going to be less than comfortable if we are to arrive before winter and some of our seers in the city have predicted early snow this year." His voice was the same as always, cheerful and annoying.

Nothing seemed wrong with him, no remorse over the life taken or the agents that got their cover blown, everything was business as usual. It annoyed Cara to some extent that he was so untouched but it also gave her hope that whatever she was feeling right now would pass.

It took her a couple of minutes to get ready, a dark dress that covered her completely and the mourning hood costume for such an occasion. The piece of cloth hid her face completely and she could only see a thin stripe of the wax ahead of her.

On the way to their cart Cara could hear the other villagers trying to ease her supposed suffering with the death of her lover. The boys parents made the whole thing even worse as she clearly heard his mother over the crowd.

"I am glad he got to meet you, be save my child and know that he truly loved you." her voice shuffering and breaking into a sob as she spoke, if this was an agent of Goldhill she was the best actress to ever set foot in this world.

The door closed behind them and Bartholomew was not wearing his usual smile, honest concern shone in his eyes as Cara got rid of the cloth covering her face.

"Well, let's hope I don't have to kill his parents as well... the two of them have been observed I hope?" The ice in her voice cut through the silence and had the pitiful look on Bartholomew's face melt.

She felt like crying but there was nothing to be achieved by that, if she was to do her job and help Alaric and Erik to win this war she would need to be cold.

The things she did were for her friends, only for them so they could life a life they had decided on after the war. Erik would find a girlfriend and maybe she and Al could marry, they would lie

somewhere in the city and no one would separate them.

She began to shiver, clutching the thought with imaginary hands. Nothing would stop her, no one would be safe until all three of them had survived this. The best way of her to help was to be the best spy in Goldhill, to kill every threat ahead of her and never to waver in her resolve.

Tears escaped her eyes, angrily she rubbed at them, they were weakness and weakness died like Warren had.

Bartholomew looked out at the window as she regained composure, when she was calm again her goal was clear and burned deep within her like a candle in the dark.

"So what is the plan once we reach Goldhill? If we reach it this late into winter anyway..." her voice was sounded a bit raw to her ears.

"Well we are going to try and infiltrate the nobility. With my tailoring and your charms we will then gather information about anything and everything before we return home to Blackriver..." He made it sound so easy, this was going to be anything but easy.

"So can you actually tailor? or are we going to get killed as soon as someone sees you with a thread and needle?" Her concern was only partly a joke, she could do some minor tailoring herself but never good enough to teach someone on how to get by as a royal tailor.

"Well I got some training back in Blackriver and we will have an actual tailor with us for cover... but I will need to fake a hand injury for a time so the tailor can bring me up to speed... shouldn't take too long right?" Cara sighed, if the two of them were to survive she would need to teach him a bit more, or help him stay on the level he had been.

"Okay, we are going to start training right now. First you will learn how to talk a tailor and then what to watch out for. While you do that I will work on my flirting skills and you will teach me how to..." she couldn't bring herself to say it, kill, the weakness inside her mind felt like an iron grip. Cara's yaw clenched as she tried to force the word out, the word and everything it represented.

The fact that she would need to kill again and again for her own sake and the sake of the damned rebellion.