Anya yawned and stretched. Another day in the middle of a war, another boring day as the princess.

She swung her legs out of her huge canopy bed. A maid rushed over to tend to her needs. “Do you wish for anything?”

“Yes. A glass of water, if you please.”

As the maid rushed off to grab the water, leaving Anya to get dressed, Anya hopped out of bed and wandered over to her closet door. Opening it, she pulled out a dress that was not as frilly as the others. She pulled it on and walked over to her vanity, brushing her hair and applying lipstick. 

The maid came back. “Here you are, princess. And your father has asked that you wear your new dress.”

“Ugh.” Anya went back to her closet and grabbed her least favorite dress, a new pink one her father has bought for her. It was eyeball catching, with purple highlights and white lace, poofy sleeves, ruffles and a corset. She despised it.

“Why must I wear this?” She complained after coming out of the closet, all dressed.

“Your father is holding a convention of lords and ladies to speak about the war effort.” The maid pursed her lips. It was not right to speak against the king, or the princess, or question their orders, so Anya couldn’t tell which side the maid was on— her side, or her fathers side.

But there would be no arguing with her father, especially today. Even if she was going to be forced to sit through a long, boring convention in a tight, itchy and heavy dress. She couldn’t afford to take his attention off the war, even if it was rather tedious.

And so, that was how a few hours later she found herself sitting at the officially most boring meeting ever held and in the most uncomfortable dress ever created. The leaders of the towns and cities of her father’s domain were huddled over a map and talking. The map was of the battle zones, and they were talking about war stragtegies. 

“But maybe we can push him back here, a sneak attack here,” suggested the town leader of Folhelm.

“No, no. They would spot us. See here? There’s another camp here,” countered the leader of Gangeo. 

“I guess. But what about here?”

Anya sighed and tried not to slump. When would this be over?

“Sir! Sir!” A solider dashed into the room. “Your majesty!”

“Yes?” The king looked up. “Devan? What are you doing in here? You are on watch duty.”

“We captured an intruder, sir. An assassin. She won’t say anything but she sure is an assassin.”

“Silence,” said the king, quieting the murmurs that swept the room. He turned back to Devan. “Bring them in.”

“Very well.” Devan opened the door and two guards trooped in, holding a small, hooded figure in between them. The guards threw back the hood to reveal a young face with shockingly blue eyes, wide in fear.

The king sat forward. “What is this?” He asked. “You said there was an assassin. That child is an innocent civilian, I would bet anything.” Anya nodded. The girl, who looked about her age, was clearly not in the murdering business.

“It’s true, your majesty,” said the girl in a small and scared voice. “I have no intention of murder.”

“It’s settled. Show her to the interrogation rooms if she has something to tell me, or the door if she does not.” The king raised his hand to be dismissed, but—

“Sir, wait.” It was Devan. “We found something on her that you might like to see.”

The king leaned back. “Yes? Show away.”

“It was this. Hidden in her boot.” The solider pulled a knife out of the girl’s boot. It was glitteringly sharp and the tip was dipped in what looked to be black ink. “This is a very sharp blade, sir,” the solider went on. “And very dangerous, too. The end is coated in a deadly poison. This is not the blade of a child passed on by her mother in a wish to defend herself. This here is the work of a deadly predator.”

All was silent. Everyone looked in shock at first the solider, then the girl, who was staring at the floor.

Finally, the girl looked up. Her blue eyes, now free of any fear, startled everyone yet again. “Caught me,” she said in a singsong voice. She no longer looked a scared little child. She looked capable of anything. “Now, let’s play a little game,” she continued, her voice sharp and carefree. “You searched only my first boot, so you left me some toys. Now…first you see me…”

She looked straight at Anya. The princess jolted as she looked into those electric eyes, knowing in that moment who the girl’s target was.

“Now,” continued the assassin softly, “You don’t.”

The next things that happened were so sudden it took Anya’s brain a moment to catch up. Devan yelled, a small explosion of smoke came from the little group of guards and the assassin, and there was a small pattering of feet away. Anya felt something land on her lap, hidden in the folds of her corset. She looked down, then back up at where the commotion was stopping.

The smoke had cleared. The girl was gone. And the guards, including Devan, were all slit in the throat. Devan’s hand was open, but it looked as though he had been clutching something. Then Anya remembered. She sucked in a breath, frantically glancing at the floor around the dead guards. There was no doubt about it. The knife and the assassin were gone, and she was in danger.

…

That night, Anya lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. Her four-poster covers kept her concealed from the rest of the world, but she knew even this and the two guards outside her door were not enough to calm her nerves. After seeing what had happened earlier, she was still shaken. Even the patrol sent around the castle searching 24/7 for the assassin wasn’t enough.

She sighed. One o clock in the morning and she hadn’t gotten a wink. She swung her legs out of bed and reached for the curtains of the bed. She should probably get some water.

Naturally, it gave her a heart attack when she saw the assassin sitting on the chair by her bed, sharpening her knife quietly and casually. She let out a squeaking sound. She wasn’t sure where it had come from, but it was probably just her trying to ask a question.

In any case, the girl looked up. She was unsurprised. “Hello, princess.”

“H-how did you get in here?” Anya’s voice finally returned.

“An assassin has her secrets. Those that she tries to generally keep from targets.” The girl looked back down at her knife. Anya opened her mouth, with half a mind to call her guards.

The assassin glanced up, guessing her motive. “Don’t try it. By the time they react you’ll be dead and when they open the door I’ll be gone.”

“Isn’t that your intention after all?” Anya asked. “Why wait to kill me?”

“My dear princess,” smirked the assassin. “It was just by my orders that I’m here at the castle. That means not that I will follow them. I brought false expectations to my boss, you could say.”

“So you’re not an assassin?” Anya asked. 

“Nope, I’m most certainly an assassin. This blade has killed many upon my own doing, and purposefully. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to kill you.” The assassin glanced at the door. “After all, we are linked souls. I did some digging when I heard you were my next target. It’s what I do often. What I found surprised me. I will not harm those of my own blood.”

“What do you mean?” Anya asked, curious in spite of herself.

All act of sharpening the knife gone, the girl stared out the window. “You know, family.”

She looked up at Anya, her blue eyes peircing the princess’s for the second time. 

“My name is River, Anya, and I am your twin sister.”