I didn't bother to sleep last night.
There didn't seem to be much point.
The nobles were still feasting well past midnight—music, wine, posturing. Pretending not to notice when one of their daughters stumbled out of a tent with her hair unpinned and her dress inside out. The Crown Prince hadn't returned to camp, and the Emperor hadn't asked why. And I?
I had work to do.
The hunting grounds stretched for miles, curving along the base of the eastern ridge and sloping gently into thick pine. They'd spent weeks clearing the worst of the brush, setting out bait, and ensuring it looked tame enough for soft men to play hero.
I simply added a few touches of my own.
A noose here. A pressure plate there. A tangle of vines that looked natural until you stepped on them and found your leg caught in a snare strong enough to rip muscle. I didn't even need poison for this part. Pain was enough.
