The shutters that opened and closed, surrendered to the winds of the storm, were the only sign of her arrival. No one had noticed her as she climbed the wall of the garden of the dark mansion, and with the thunder crashing and the winds raging from the direction of the neighboring sea, no one heard her as, holding onto the gutter, she hung from the window ledge and slipped into the corridor of the first floor. At the sound of approaching footsteps, the King's Champion pressed her back into a recess. Hidden behind a black mask, hooded, she tried to become one with the shadows, to become a shadow in the darkness. A young maid passed her hiding place with a weary step, stopped in front of the open window and, muttering a curse, bolted it. A few moments later she disappeared down the staircase at the far end of the corridor. The girl had not noticed the wet footprints on the wooden floorboards.
A flash of lightning tore through the sky and lit up the corridor. The assassin took a deep breath, as she mentally reviewed the plans she had methodically memorized during the three days she had spent watching the mansion on the outskirts of Belhaven. Five doors on each side of the corridor. Lord Niral’s bedroom was behind the third door on the left. She listened carefully in case other servants were approaching, but the house remained silent, while the storm raged all around them.
Silent and noiseless as a wraith, the Champion moved down the corridor. The door to Lord Niral’s chamber opened with a barely audible sigh. She paused, waiting for the next thunderclap, before tiptoeing inside and closing the door behind her. A second flash of lightning illuminated the two figures sleeping in the grand bed. Lord Niral could not have been more than thirty-five years old, and his wife, dark-haired and beautiful, slept peacefully in his arms. What could they have done to offend the king so deeply that he wanted them dead?
