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Reynolds had been on duty for almost sixteen hours and had another eight to go when she saw the assassin. It wasn’t even her damn shift—she’d swapped with Hill as a favor and for the extra coin. Last time she’d be doing that, that was for sure.
She didn’t realize it was an assassin at first. Just saw a new recruit with an ill-fitting uniform walking around; that wasn’t unusual. The palace guard was underfunded even with the empress’s recent improvements. But Shiflett was supposed to be on duty with her tonight, so why was this woman walking Shiflett’s route?
“Are you new?” she asked, too tired to be tactful.
The recruit startled; she was watching the stone in front of her more than her peripherals. So definitely new, then. Her face was washed pale by the spotlights, throwing sharp, freckled features into eerie relief. “Yeah,” she said, “just started yesterday. I’ve been over the route, though.”
“Right,” Reynolds said with a frown. They didn’t usually put new recruits on the night shift. Or at least they hadn’t when she was new, but maybe the new empress had changed things. “Thought Shiflett was with me tonight.”
The recruit pulled a face. “He told me I had to swap with him? Something about seniority.”
Oh. Hazing, then. Reynolds nodded. “Alright, carry on.”
The recruit continued down the hall past the empress’s room, and Reynolds turned the corner. She’d barely made it to the staircase before Shiflett streaked into view. He’d been stripped down to his undergarments, and there was a nasty bruise forming over his eye. “Reynolds, there’s a—”
“Motherfucker,” said Reynolds, and sprinted back the way she came, Shiflett hot on her heels. The royal protector was off-duty—the assassin had a head start—she’d let her go right to the empress—Outsider’s crooked cock, even if Attano let her live there was no way she’d hold on to this job. Fucking Shiflett.
The empress’s door hung open, swaying on its hinges. Reynolds gulped and tightened her grip on her pistol. Behind her, Shiflett swore under his breath.
The first thing she saw was the pool of blood on the floor, spreading from a body wearing a guard uniform. Above her stood the royal protector, holding a…letter opener? It was hard to tell; blood streaked up to his elbow and dotted his face and chest. He also happened to be stark naked, standing by the empress’s bed.
“Um,” said Shiflett.
Reynolds was a professional, so she jerked her eyes away from Attano and asked, “Your Majesty, you’re alright?”
She barely recognized the empress with her hair down, cheeks flushed, and sheets clutched over her chest. “Quite alright, thank you,” she said smoothly. Usually the empress’s voice was neutral with a tinge of warmth; now she sounded like she was barely holding back laughter.
Attano took a deep breath through his nose. “Leave,” he said, “come back in two minutes. And if you don’t mention this to anyone, I might forget your incompetence long enough to let you keep your jobs.”
“Right,” Reynolds managed. She grabbed Shiflett’s arm and dragged him out, pulling the door shut behind them.
“What the fuck,” said Shiflett. “Did you—are they—”
“No idea what you’re talking about.” Reynolds had been enough of an idiot for one night, thanks. Her heart was still pounding. She wasn’t sure if it was because of leftover adrenaline or—yeah. That.
When they walked back in the room, the empress was wearing a nightgown; Attano had put his, ah, sword away. “Take care of the body,” he told Reynolds, and to Shiflett, “and you tell me how she ended up in your uniform.”
Reynolds tried very hard to forget what she had seen. And when a certain bawdy tavern song bearing a suspicious resemblance to that night started going around, well—at least the royal protector never asked her about it.