Abella had timed it perfectly. She was certain that he would come very soon, and she had been right. A couple moments after, a man in a black cloak jumped through the open balcony window. The assassin had not appeared in Abella’s first few lives, but that was merely because she seemed like a weak person to Mary, who had been sent to spy on her, and there was no need to take Abella’s life. But she had discovered in her thirty-first life that as soon as she acted suspicious in front of Mary, an assassin would be sent on the third day she arrived at the Imperial Palace. That was how her thirty-first life had ended – at the hands of a pathetic assassin.

She had known how to use magic and was an expert swordsman by then, but what had killed her wasn’t the assassin directly, but when she killed the assassin. There had been some magic placed on him to trigger a trap when he dies – an explosion that would kill anyone in the same room or within a certain radius of him. And thus, I had died then. I had been careless that time – I had overlooked the possibilities that he was merely a bait or a distraction. I won’t make that mistake again. Abella thought as the man in the black cloak got behind her with a knife in his hand, pointed at her throat. He was surprised – he obviously hadn’t expected it to be that easy; for Abella to just stand still and let him point a knife to her throat without so much as a scream.

“So are you an assassin?” Abella asked, looking down at the knife as it reflected the sun’s light into her eyes.

So they were right. She really is naïve and dumb, the assassin thought. It would be simple and easy – he couldn’t believe the amount of money he was being paid to kill a single harmless, talentless girl.

“Isn’t that obvious?” the assassin snapped.

“I meant are you a good assassin?” Abella asked, her tone still innocent.

“Yes, I am.” The assassin felt a little proud. “I’ve never failed a single mission.”

“Well then, prove it.” Abella smiled.

“Prove what?” the assassin asked, taken aback.

“That you’re a good assassin,” Abella elbowed him in the stomach and as he stumbled backwards, Abella got a good distance away from him. “It seems that your words are untrue. If you were a good assassin, you would have killed me already.”

Angry from her taunts and feeling insulted from her statements, the assassin held up his knives and lunged at Abella. Smiling, Abella said, “be prepared to lose your life if you cannot kill me.”

“What makes you think I can’t kill you?” the assassin growls as Abella dodged.

“Alright then. If you insist on being so confident,” Abella paused as she took a moment to dodge another one of the assassin’s attacks. “Then don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Abella landed neatly as she dodged another attack and then raised her hand. A whiteish-gold, glowing magic circle appeared in front of her hand. The magic circle had three layers of ancient writing on it – a third circle levelled magic spell.

“Don’t worry,” Abella smiled brightly, and a white beam out of the centre of the magic circle. The assassin couldn’t do anything as the beam approached him, nor could he dodge it. But he smirked. The trap would be activated at his death, and the frustrating lady in front of him would die. It didn’t matter if he died – he had lived and breathed for his master, after all. Abella’s smile shifted into a smirk as she said, “I can’t let you die just yet.”

The assassin’s smirk faded and he tried to dodge, but it was too late. The beam hit him directly in the head. Instantly, he fell to the ground, breathing and very much alive, but unconscious. Stun spells are so useful, Abella thought as she approached the assassin’s limp body. Abella closed her eyes as she put her hands on the assassin’s arm. Dark energy was radiating from his aura – a powerful, seventh-circle spell had been cast on him. It wasn’t unexpected, but Abella had always been curious what level spell could possibly cause such a large explosion.

Smiling to herself, she whispered in the assassin’s ear, “have fun.”

She clicked her fingers, and in a heartbeat, the assassin was gone.

~~~

Dietrich glanced at the ripped piece of cloth tied around his arm. His mind was swarmed with questions – who was that girl? He knew that she was the daughter of Duke Silverstein, but he hadn’t known that she was a magician. Having a magician on my side when my brothers start to try and compete with me for the throne will be useful. Dietrich thought. The only problem is getting her on my side. He still didn’t know the true extent of the girl’s magical ability, but being able to summon fire out of her hand without a magic circle proved that she had some talent. But nonetheless, he should still have a back-up plan in the situation that his brothers manage to get the upper hand of him.

Perhaps he would make the girl fall in love with him. Love was the most powerful loyalty, after all. It wouldn’t be hard – young and naïve noble ladies like the girl were easy to sway. Some compliments and flattery, then a little seduction, and they would be hooked. It was simple, really.

Dietrich glanced at the paperwork before him – even though he wasn’t the Emperor yet, his father had still made him take ownership of some land they seized from a corrupted noble to ‘prepare to take over the empire’. He picked up his quill pen and just as he pressed it against the paper, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Dietrich said, not looking up from his paper as he heard the door open.

“Your wounds are still untreated,” he immediately looked up when he heard the voice. It was that girl, his fiancée. What was her name again? Bella? Abell?

“I am busy. If you have nothing important to say, leave.” Dietrich clenched his jaw and forced himself to look back down at his work.

“How cold of you,” the girl said in a light tone, not sounding the least bit offended like a normal noble lady would if she was discretely told to get lost. Either she’s stupid, or she’s just stubborn.

“What do you want?” Dietrich sounded slightly irritated.

“Is it so unusual for a wife to come see her husband?” the girl’s tone was nonchalant, and it irritated Dietrich somehow.

“Yes, because you aren’t my wife,” Dietrich replied sharply, an iciness to his tone that usually shut most people up.

“Not yet, anyways.” The girl smiled brightly as Dietrich looked up with an irritated expression. “What’s so wrong with being worried about my fiancé and checking up on him?” Dietrich gazed into the girl’s purple eyes and found little sincerity in the words she just said.

“Who said you could speak informally to me?” Dietrich changed the topic, begrudgingly admitting to himself that she was right.

“Your Highness, with all due respect, you were the one who started it first.” The girl smiled. Dietrich glared at her, realising she was right. “However, the point of my visit wasn’t to discuss whether or not we could speak informally to each other. I simply came to make sure you treated your wounds, and it seems as though you haven’t. I’ll be back with a medical kit, Your Highness.”

The girl left quickly, and Dietrich sighed. She really was a strange girl.