Step One: Marry the Prince.

Step Two: Murder the King and Queen.

I wasn’t at all prepared for Step Three.

When I was first asked to infiltrate the palace via marriage to Prince Leone, I was VERY apprehensive. I could not imagine anything worse than marrying someone I did not love, let alone someone I barely knew. Someone who hated my kind, my people. Me. But for the greater good, I knew I had to fall on the sword. My happiness was a small sacrifice if it saved thousands of lives.

I was ordered to await further instruction following the wedding - whatever plan the higher ups had concocted was top secret, even from me, the girl enacting it. And so I plastered on a smile and appeared ever the doting bride, fawning over my dresses and pretty things while I slept with one eye open.

The next set of orders arrived several months into my new life as Princess. I awoke to find a slip of paper tucked neatly in my palm. Unfolding it gingerly, I gasped. Murder the King and Queen. I was no stranger to violence or killing, but I had begun to grow fond of the King’s warm laugh and the Queen’s sharp tongue. Every time I’d taken a life before it had been a stranger; murdering someone I knew gave me pause. Nonetheless, I acquiesed. A few drops of belladonna and the job was done. I stayed by Leone’s side and stroked his hair as he grieved, and tried my best to ignore the giant pit in my stomach. It’s for the greater good.

Step Three arrived while I was in the bath. I’d left the window open to the frigid night air. I shrieked as a giant owl flung itself through the window, nearly taking me out as it dropped a note straight into my bath water. As quick as it came it was gone, and I scrambled to grab the note before it disintegrated. Swallowing down my rising dread, I opened it.

Step Three: Kill the Prince