Prince Ameron may have kept perfect time with her, but Cecaylia commanded the attention of the ballroom. She glided across the floor, never missing a step. Her skirts shimmered and flowed around her ankles as the music slowly built to a climax.

Cecaylia smiled at the Prince, never taking her gaze from his. He smiled back, a mischievous glint in his too-warm brown eyes. She felt his grip at her waist tighten, bringing her body closer to his own. In response she tightened her own. By the hitch of his breath she knew he liked that.

Cecaylia loved dancing. Some would say she was so skilled it was her greatest weapon. But tonight, she could not wait for final measure of the music. She already knew how the song ended and had heard it many times before; an explosion of music with a perfect opening for a finishing lift. It was beautiful, yet she wanted to be done and rid of this place as soon as possible. Tonight—tonight was different. She had a job to do, and she would not fail.

As the music reached its height, the prince spun her around in a complicated lift no amateur could complete. During the spin, confetti began to rain down from above. This was the signal. The second her feet touched the ground she broke away from the prince, racing towards the door to the gardens. People gasped and cried out in confusion. The dance was breathtaking. They couldn’t understand why she’d just left. It was completely improper.

When Cecaylia was standing in the doorway, a match appeared in her hand. She struck it against her corset, lighting a flame and tossed it back into the room before disappearing out the door. The partygoers were too focused on the dismayed prince and his runaway lady. The flame barely grazed a piece of the confetti and the entire ballroom blasted into flames. Not even screams of bloody murder of every single person exploding into fiery bits could be heard over the sound. In a matter of seconds, at least a hundred people were dead and nothing but rubble and flames remained. The music had come to its close.