Daughters of the Damned

While Adaria was surprised to find a stranger in her chambers, being Antivan, she’d come to almost expect it. Though, assassins didn’t usually indulge in small talk. Her guests' arrogance and sheer audacity caused her to chuckle, more curious than displeased. Apologies are for friends, family, or peasants. And I don’t believe you are any of those. She sharply retorted. And it is Her Royal Highness. Not Lady. If you’re going to attempt flattery, it’s wise you use the correct terminology, especially when it comes to Royal blood.

Depositing her tools, Adaria sighed, her attention waning until the woman pressed about the clock. This was not the reason for stepping into her chambers. Well, since you like it so much, you may be able to convince my aunt to part with it. After. What use did she have for the thing? Nothing, but pretending it held some value created the illusion that her guest had leverage.

Hands, fingers picked up and examined pieces of the mechanism. Why have you really come? And just be aware, I will know if you lie to me. She drew her index across her temple, tapping it lightly. She would know.