Nothing & No One

Birds skitter out of my way as I practically storm down the path, away from that God forsaken temple.

How dare they! How dare they! I understand that the Oracle isn’t to blame, that they’re only the bridge between us and the stars. That they have no control over the future, but the way they phrased it! The way they phrased it!

I narrowly avoid stepping on a sparrow, the creature too tiny for me to see in my rage. Perhaps it's a sign I should sit down for a moment on one of the stone steps. But no! 

Sitting this close to the temple will make me do something rash, and the last thing I need is for the Oracle to call me out on my poor behaviour. I can’t face them again. Not after this.

So I walk all the way down the temple’s garden path, out the towering front gates, and down its hill, until I’m in the village centre with its colourful flags and bright buildings.

A ways further, the grass so tall it brushes my hands, and I’m in the field. My field. 

I sink down onto a patch of dirt, too tired, too angry to care that it’s going to get all over my new dress. I know it’s ridiculous, but I had actually wanted to impress the Oracle.

I scoff at my thoughts...then bite my lip to stop the tears, as the interaction flashes through my memory.

“CLARAMUNDE NIGHTSPIKE, STEP FORWARD!” The Oracle had called. 

I had stepped forward, done the required curtsy and gift offering, then had taken my place in front of the Oracle’s large dais, one that rivals the king’s. 

They had gone over the rules, their glowing hands painting pictures in the sky as they showed me images from the past. You see, you need the past in order to know the future. 

Supposedly, that is. 

“The day of your birth you were instructed to come to my temple, as all others on their 18th birthday, yes?” I had nodded. It’s standard procedure of course, for the Oracle to go over all of this.

Every time a child is born in Oralume they are given their ‘future’: Go to see the Oracle on your 18th birthday, and they will give you one sentence. 

That’s all it is, one sentence that can change your world view. One sentence that tells you who you are. One sentence that tells you who it’s your job to be.

And what had the Oracle told me?!

What had it told me?!

“You are meant to be nothing and no one.”

Meant to be nothing and no one.

No one and nothing. 

The words are like knives jamming into me, and all of a sudden the late summer air is suffocating, the tall grasses are too scratchy, and the mud and dirt sinking into me is too cold.

What do the stars know anyways? I mean are they even to be trusted? Can I truly believe that this is my destiny? That this is my future?

To be a nothing? To be a no one?

No.

I refuse to accept it.

I am built for more than this. Because I did not claw my way out of the filth and the mud and the dirt, I did not practice my fighting techniques for the past 10 years, and I did not work at that dingy and disgusting pub to be a nothing. To be a no one.

I will be someone. I will be something. And if the world has to burn and bleed for it to be so, then that is what will happen.

I will make sure of it.

****

The next morning I set out early, the plan still taking shape in my mind as I dress, braid back my hair, and saddle my horse to take me to the palace.

It’s not very far, especially on horseback. A few moments of riding through the forest, the leaves already turning shades of crimson and gold, and I’m in front of the palace’s front gates. In front of the spot where I told him I would be.

“You’re late.” Nikol steps around the bend from where he must have been hidden in the shadows of the gatehouse.

“Not hardly,” I swing down from my mare, patting her soft flank as I go. “You got my letter?”

“I did.” Nikol eyes me carefully. “And I have a deal for you, if you’d be willing to make it.”

In all the years that I’ve known him, Nikol has never been one to be careful. As Head of the Royal Guard you’d think he would be so, but he is very good at being what you wouldn’t expect. Which is why the weariness in his eyes isn’t incredibly surprising.

“And?” I narrow my eyes. “What would you have me do?”

“There are a great many who don’t like the Crown Prince,” He adjusts his tunic, refusing to meet my eyes. “And if you would like a position of standing, of status, then I can get you in at Court. But you must do something for me Claramunde.”

I raise a brow, trying to still the nervous beatings of my heart. 

“Kill the Crown Prince. Kill Dawe. And I will make sure you have a place of value.”

I hope my face is blank. He cannot see that I am afraid, that while I was sure the task would be something along these lines, it would not be to this level. 

So instead I hide my hands behind my back, paste on a smile and say, “You have my word it will be done.”

“That’s it?” It’s his turn to narrow his eyes at me. “You have no qualms with murder? With taking out a member of the royal family?” He purses his thin lips. “I believed it would take much more convincing than this.”

“Your belief was misplaced in me Nikol. I will not let some stars’ prophecy dictate my future. I will not let them be right.” I curtsy because he is still the Head of the Royal Guard, then walk over to my horse's saddlebags. 

There are four daggers and a rope inside, that I quickly pull out. 

In his letter in response to mine that I had received last night, Nikol had told me to bring as much. 

Nothing and no one? 

This will surely change that.

“Which is his room?” I turn back to Nikol who’s studying me as if he’s never even met me before. As if he wasn’t the one who helped train me with weapons. The one who helped me become brutal and efficient. 

Figures. He always thought I was too soft.

“Be careful Claramunde,” He says instead. Then, because he is also brutal and efficient, he shows me a map of the groundwork of the palace, and directs me to which entrance I should use.

“Ten minutes.” He says, hauling open the massive gates. “Any longer than that, and I will come find you myself.”

“I’ll be out in five.” I slip through, my feet crunching on the occasional leaf as I walk towards the shining blue and gold towers, glowing orange in the beginnings of dawn.

I slip around the edge of the garden instead of heading directly for the palace doors, and turn to the right side where Prince Dawe’s window is, two storeys up.  

Normally there would be guards stationed around the base, stationed everywhere, but Nikol had called them all in for a meeting earlier. It’s why I have only ten minutes until they come back out, and why I have to move quickly.

It’s not hard though, 10 years of doing this makes it almost easy. I’ve already climbed at least 20 feet off the ground, using two of my daggers as makeshift pickaxes, the other two (plus the rope) tucked firmly into the inside of my bodice.

It’s just me and the cool breeze of the morning blowing in from off the river, and with it the smell of spices and grilling meats from the marketplace. Just my hands growing almost sweaty against the leather hilts of my dagger. And just the questions that have been circling back again and again since I left Nikol.

Can I truly do this?

Will this change anything?

Then, a question so stark and unwanted against my swirling thoughts,

Do I have the stomach to kill the Crown Prince?

I don’t have the opportunity or the desire to dissect it, as I’m already here.

There are drapes in front of the window, a bold red colour thick enough that I can’t see through them to the other side.

My hands scrape against the stone ledge as I balance precariously on it, my other hand still gripping the sweat slicked hilt of my dagger. I wiggle it between the glass pane and the ledge. The window pops open a few seconds later with the softest click.

All I have to do now is pry it up, slip through the drapes, pray the prince is still sleeping, then slit his throat. 

I’ve already made my choice. There is no retracing it.

So I suck in one last breath of the misty air, tighten my braid, smooth out my lilac dress as best as I can, then softly open the window.

There’s just enough of the dawn’s breaking light for me to see. 

The room is red and gold, definitely fit for a prince. There’s a grand marble fireplace at one end, a mahogany table in the centre of the room, windows and doors leading to different parts of the endless space, a plush ruby red carpet that I can feel even through the thick soles of my boots.

And the Crown Prince himself.

He’s illuminated by one shaft of light, making his hair look like freshly spun gold and his features carved from perfect stone. 

It really will be a shame for me to kill someone so beautiful.

Even still, I grasp the hilt of my dagger hard enough for my knuckles to turn bone white, as I slink towards the bed.

He’s right in front of me now, his breathing slow and gentle, the exact opposite of mine as I press the blade to his throat.

But I’m too slow. And I didn’t press nearly as hard as I should have.

“Wai--” He’s cut off as I press my hand against his mouth.

“Don’t. Move.” I press the blade deep enough for a thin red line to appear. Just a bit further and I should--

“Ow!” I draw back my hand, shaking it out. Did he really just--

“I’ll make you a deal!” He pushes himself further up in bed, already pressing one white sleeved arm to the blood at his throat. “I’ll make you a deal!”

“No.” I take a step closer, reaching for him. 

I botched it! I completely botched it! How could I have been so stupid as to--

“Whatever your employer is paying you, I’ll double it!” He holds a palm out, as if that will stop me.

I almost snort. But his words give me pause. 

“What makes you think I’m working for someone?”

“I must be hated by even more people than I previously thought, if the villagers are sneaking into my rooms to murder me. You have to be hired.” His sky blue eyes seem to soften for a moment. “Unless I’m completely wrong and you’re an angry villager. Funny though, because I don’t recall breaking your heart--wait wait!”

I’ve got my other dagger in hand now. “Whether I was hired or not is no matter.” I raise the blade, but--with a movement so fast I nearly miss it--it connects with his a moment later.

Odd, I didn’t even realize that he might have weapons on him, least of all a dagger so thin it looks almost like a sewing needle.

“I may not know what your reward is, but I can still offer you something even better.”

“Oh?” I try to focus on his eyes, and not the wide expanse of his chest that’s been revealed with his movement. “And what’s that?”

“Kill the Head of the Royal Guard instead. In return you can have his place. If I’m right in my thinking that you scaled this wall only with a few blades, evaded capture from the guards who should be coming back from their morning meeting, and that you truly are an assassin sent to kill me, then that’s qualification enough for the position.”

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t turn on you and kill you anyways, if this position is mine?” I slowly lower my blade, and he does the same.

He leans forward and smiles. “Then I only hope that as the 22nd assassin sent to kill me, you actually land a killing blow.” He tosses the dagger onto his nightstand. “So? Do we have a deal?”

Perhaps I’m a fool. Perhaps I will end up being nothing and no one after all, or perhaps it’s just because the position of Head of the Royal Guard sounds nice. 

Nikol and I have never gotten along great really anyways.

My mind is already swimming with the possibilities of what this could mean for my family. What it could mean for me.

I tuck my daggers back into my bodice. Reach a hand out towards the prince’s, and shake.

“We have a deal, your Majesty.” Prince Dawe’s hand is warm against my freezing one.

“Excellent.” He lets go of my hand and I almost miss the brief contact. Almost. “Come to the palace at sunset. I’ll tell the guards to let in a thin young woman with a dirty dress and scary beautiful face, who goes by the name…?”

“Claramunde Nightspike.” I’m already regretting giving him my name, still trying to fight back my blush at the strange compliment he’s given me. “I will come back with a new dress so you can forgo the dirty part.”

He chuckles as I move towards his window. I’m already looking for a spot where I can secure my rope. 

“Lady Claramunde?”

I turn around once I’m at the ledge, to find him still grinning. “Yes?”

“There is a reason the other 21 attempts never worked out.” He winks. “If you try something, don’t be a disappointing number 22.”

“Oh your Majesty,” I finish tying my rope and turn back to give him my sweetest smile. “You will find that I am anything but disappointing.” 

I gather up my skirts and climb onto the ledge, then without looking down, I grab the rope and jump.

It only takes me a few hurried minutes through the gardens, before I come to my horse waiting by the gatehouse. Nikol, however, is nowhere in sight.

For a fleeting second I wonder if he knows. If he knows that I made a deal against him, and one where I have an idea of the power I will wield.

But no, that would be impossible. And perhaps if he did know, I would be able to fulfill my deal with Dawe here and now. 

When he doesn’t show for another few moments I climb atop my horse and we set off back home. The colours and smells of the city are no longer as vivid as they were on my ride here. As they were yesterday on my walk back from the Oracle. No, today my mind is too full on prophecies and choices and Court positions.

****

I spend the next few hours debating about what must be done. And by the time I come to my conclusion, the sun is already setting.

If Nikol dies then I will no longer have a weapons teacher, and for as much as I do not like his rules and his treatment of me, he is quite useful. 

If the Crown Prince Dawe dies then I won’t have such a high ranking position at Court. I will be whatever Nikol can find for me, which may not be very much at all. 

I double check that my daggers are in place, hidden carefully beneath the folds of my skirts, and tucked into places you cannot see. Then as I walk to the door I catch sight of my reflection. A bit pale, shaky, but determined.

I will not be nothing and no one.