Karl watched from the entrance of their personal quarters as Jane paused before their full-length mirror and waved at it. A stranger waved back.

  It was jarring how different she looked, with her hair dyed a matte black, and her features looking as forgettable as money could make them. The only thing they had been unable to change was the colour of her eyes. They were still the same grey, she would just need to make sure to never look the Saint in the eyes.

  “Well? How do I look?”

  That was a trick question if ever Karl had heard one. He couldn’t say she looked as beautiful as ever, as it was an obvious lie, and he probably shouldn’t say that she looked average. How was he meant to respond to that question? No, he was overthinking it. He’d just say what he thought.

  “You look quite average. We got our money's worth…that's for sure.”

  Jane smiled and rolled her eyes at his tone. “Good, let's be on our way then.”

  She took his arm in her own, leading him out of the room. “We wouldn’t want the famous Karl Brooks to be late to the ball.”

  Karl shook his head at her teasing as they left their suite, made their way down the stairs and across the main foyer to their waiting carriage, their guards trailing after them.

  He offered his hand to Jane as they reached the carriage, she placed her gloved hand in his and lifted the hem of her gown. With Karl’s help, she then stepped inside, and Karl nodded at the driver as he stepped in right after.

  Karl, Jane and the guards settled onto their seats, and as they got situated, the carriage rolled forward at a measured pace.

  At first, the roads were calm. But as they moved away from The Gilded Compass, the city swelled with life. Karl—through the curtained windows—was able to catch glimpses of the bustling city. Vendors calling out their wares, families strolling along the streets and the ever-present watchful guards stationed around every corner—easily recognisable with their sapphire-blue uniforms and stiff postures—calling out occasionally as they maintained order in the growing chaos.

  "You’re tense," Jane murmured, smoothing the folds of her gown.

  Karl exhaled, then ran a gloved hand over the edge of his sleeve. He pictured the Royal Palace, their destination, with its towering spires looming over the rest of the city, where they were bound to meet the ‘Saint’.

  "I'm worried," he grimaced as he turned to Jane. “No plan survives first contact with the enemy and…”

  Karl shook his head as he trailed off, Jane placing her hand atop his. Her silent support enough to drag him from his worries. He breathed out, and felt himself relax. “Thank you.”

  Jane sidled closer to Karl and rested her head on his shoulder. 'We'll get through this. Together.”

  Karl wrapped an arm around her, and felt her comfortable weight against his side. She felt slightly tense, but as they rolled along, she relaxed.

  Yes. They could do this. They’d make it through the ball alive. Alive and free. He’d make sure of it.

  Ophelia Shaw peeked out from around the corner, and quickly darted back into their alley.

  “Why did you want me to do that?” She glared at Cornelius. “You know I didn’t have to.”

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  Her brother was leaning against the wall, his face that of a young man. He looked at her and shrugged. “Just in case.”

  Ophelia bristled as she marched towards him with angry steps. “We only lost him because you broke my concentration!”

  Cornelius frowned at her and pushed himself off the wall. He was silent for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “Your life is more important.”

  Ophelia’s anger drained from her, his simple statement taking the wind out of her sails. What could she even say against that? She’d lost her spider in that merchant’s carriage, but they’d been able to leave the Auction safely because of it.

  He muttered something under his breath.

  “What was that?”

  “I needed some space. You were getting a little difficult”

  She frowned and clenched her fists, that small smirk of his was so incredibly annoying. But she took a deep breath and calmed herself. It was her nerves, she knew. They were getting to her.

  “What are we waiting for?” She finally said. “Go do your part of the plan.”

  Cornelius sighed and nodded. He stepped forward, gave her a quick half-hug, and then made his way out of the alley. She watched him turn the corner and the moment he was out of sight, she let out a breath and sat down with her back against the wall.

  She closed her eyes, and felt for her scorpion with that sixth sense that had grown in her the moment she had bitten into that disgusting fruit. Her perspective changed and she commanded its body to peek out from Cornelius's coat pocket.

  He had seamlessly merged into the crowd and was now walking towards their mark. A servant that was working in the palace as a waiter. It had taken them some time to find someone suitable who had the chance to come in contact with their customer-to-be during the ball, but the moment they found someone, they pounced on the opportunity.

  It was dangerous and risky, but oh so worth it.

  Plus, being a member of the Shaw clan was also dangerous and risky, and she wasn’t complaining.

  Cornelius was close now. Close, but not close enough. The servant they were tailing was still too far for her scorpion to make the jump. So she waited, her brother knew how far he needed to be. They’d done this many times.

  Finally, they were close enough. ‘Jump.’ She sent the command, and the scorpion leaped.

  It sailed through the air for a few moments and then silently landed on the Servant's robes. The scorpion's pincers latching onto the cloth as it scurried upwards towards a free patch of skin. The neck. Once there, it poised itself to strike, waiting for the perfect moment, just as Ophelia wanted it to and… ‘Now!’.

  Ophelia felt how it flexed its tail, and how the stinger sunk into the servant's neck. Then she felt it pump the hypno-hallucinogenic venom into the man’s bloodstream. Done.

  The scorpion scurried back as Cornelius stepped forward and gently took the man by the arm, guiding him toward the alley. As the creature leapt onto Cornelius and slipped into his pocket, her brother made sure to pretend to talk to the servant, acting as naturally as possible while gradually steering their path, until they finally turned a corner into their alley.

  Ophelia had the scorpion curl into a ball and sink deep into Cornelius’s pocket, commanding it to enter a state of torpor. She then opened her eyes just as Cornelius and the servant stopped a few steps before her.

  She stood up and gestured at the servant who was staring at the wall with a blank stare. “Come on, get it over with already.”

  Cornelius pressed his palm against the servant’s face, and the face rippled. The man’s features smoothing over just as her brother’s face slowly changed to mirror the victims. Once the transfer was complete Cornelius leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Sleep.”

  The now faceless man collapsed as if his strings had been cut, and Ophelia swallowed nervously. It was a disturbing scene, but she reminded herself he would be getting his face back in a few hours, and then he’d wake in this very alleyway none the wiser.

  She shook her head to clear her thoughts and helped drag the body towards their pre-prepared spot, draping a blanket over his form, and readjusting a few crates to hide him from casual observers. It would have to be enough.

  Ophelia then picked up the wooden box she had previously set aside behind one of the crates and gently handed it over to Cornelius. “Squeeze that merchant for all he’s worth brother.”

  Cornelius smirked, his eyes glinting. “You know I will.”