Ivy laid back on Mister Couch and hummed a tune she had heard a group of children singing in the market. The warm sunlight beaming down on her through the window opposite the fireplace kept her nice and toasty. She had thrown the curtains open shortly after waking to accept the summer heat, and stretched out wide, feeling like a lazy cat basking on a perch. If she could purr, she would.

Today Ivy turned twenty years old. The number almost didn’t feel real. When she had awakened as a witch at fourteen, she hadn’t expected to make it to her next birthday. Now, almost six years later, she had no reason to believe she would die an early death of any kind. By all accounts she was living a dream: healthy, rich, powerful, and competent. What did she have to fear anymore? The church? How would they ever find her? She had escaped witch hunters already when she had been fifteen.

Over the past few years she had grown leaps and bounds. Well, not physically. That ship had sailed, unfortunately. Her petite body would never be suited for brawling in the streets or hauling stacks of hay like she had done what felt like ages ago on Miss Angelica’s farm. But none of that mattered.

Rose had taught her letters since the day Ivy had been embarrassed she couldn’t read the Bloody Prince’s note, and after her first brush with a swordsman a few years ago, had asked for combat training as well. That...hadn't gone great. Rose had eventually gave in to Ivy's pestering, but not only was she a terrible teacher, Ivy was also just not talented. She wasn't sure Rose was either. The older witch claimed all the time that she didn't use her power due to some moral high ground, but she always—always—knew where and when Ivy would strike in their practices. Ivy had never once hit her with the wooden sticks they used. Rose couldn't teach her magic to Ivy, and it had all been useless. Mostly. At least she didn’t panic and shut her eyes anymore after getting hit a single time. It was something.

The biggest improvement had been the advancement of Ivy's power. Most days she had nothing to do. She could only get drunk so often. The rest of her time she spent sharpening her mind in the witch world. She had made trials for herself. Getting from point A to point B solely under the influence of her power. It forced her to learn to recognize so many more constructs of the strange world. She found that she could circumvent the distance between rooftops simply by finding the right angle. Really, closing the space between any two places was just a matter of identifying which curving path to step upon. Before, she had relied purely on instinct, letting her power hold the reigns. Now, she was beginning to understand. Traversing from her home to the Bloody Flag took a fraction of the time. She could make it to the palace and back without a soul knowing of her presence. The whole of Atrican belonged to her and her witch world.

She still routinely took jobs from the Prince, ridding the city of the worst kind of scum that existed. Honestly, her life was…perfect. How bad had things looked that night six years ago? Never did she think that—

The door flew open and a red faced, panting Rose stormed inside. Weird. She had left early to the palace as always, and she never came back like this. Something didn’t—

“Ivy!” Her tone cut the air and she stomped over to hover above Ivy. “I've had enough.”

Ivy searched her sister’s face for clues, but found only anger…and disappointment.

“What are you saying?” Ivy said.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I really don’t.”

“Are you really going to lie there and play stupid, Dragonfly?”

Ivy craned her body forward to sit up, and gestured to one of the nearby chairs that circled the fireplace.

“Rose,” she said, “tell me what’s wrong.”

Some of her late night business must be leaking to the palace. Her alias shouldn't have gotten that far, right? Well, she had taken care of quite a few corrupt nobles, so she thought this day might come at some point.

Rose stood still for a moment, and then decided to take Ivy’s offer. Once seated though, she looked even more enraged. That pause had no doubt been a use of her power. This could be catastrophic if Rose found out everything. Which of course she could. Ugh.

"Do you think I am stupid?" Rose asked.

"No..."

"Then?"

"What do you want?"

"How long are you going to play this game? Do you realize who you are talking to?"

Ivy frowned. It wasn't fair. It really wasn't.

"You're not supposed to—"

Rose started laughing.

"Do you think I need to use my power on you to know what you're doing? I taught you to read, Ivy. You used to bring your hit lists to me! You've come back home half dead! Do you know what it took from me not to say something? I tried so hard to let you be yourself. But this has gone too far."

"Oh," Ivy shrank back into Mister Couch, "uhm, well..."

"Tell me it isn't you, Ivy. Please. I will believe it despite all the evidence."

"Rose. I...I—"

"You need to tell me, right now," Rose said, "Is it you?"

Ivy scratched the back of her neck.

“I mean…”

“Ivy.”

Ivy threw her hands up in the air.

“Don’t you already know? You must. Don’t try and pretend you haven’t read the Bloody Prince the second you heard the silly name Dragonfly brought up. You probably read me for all I know. Why are you demanding I answer?”

“I told you I wouldn’t read you without permission, I haven’t.”

“So you did read the Prince.”

“His mind tells the story of a beautiful raven-haired girl who’s inexplicable skill frightens even him. He has little idea of her true intentions, and is extremely grateful the girl decided to ally herself with him. He sends her to complete his most dangerous and difficult tasks. He calls her Dragonfly, but knows her real name is Iveriani.”

Well. That was…huh. Ivy started to realize why people feared witches. No one could hide anything from Rose. And no one could hide period from Ivy. If they chose, the two could probably run the entire city from the shadows and no one could do a thing about it.

Perhaps more interesting than that though…the Bloody Prince thought of Ivy as beautiful and terrifying? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Happy, maybe? Ugh, whatever. Her one last resort at hiding from Rose rested in the fact that she had never told her sister her real name. A thin hope at best, and maybe it would be better to just come clean anyhow.

“Sounds like you already know everything,” Ivy said, neither confirming nor denying.

“I need to hear it from you, Ivy,” Rose said, “please, I’m begging you. Tell me this is all just a misunderstanding.”

“I…I don’t know what to say, Rose.”

“I need to hear it.”

Ivy slapped her hands down on the cushions to either side of her.

“Fine! It’s me, alright? I’m the Dragonfly. The big bad assassin. You found her. I'm upending the city. You caught me. Is that what you want? You going to turn me in now?”

Rose dropped her head in her hands and stared down at the floor for several minutes while Ivy just sat there, waiting. What would Rose do? Ivy had never once questioned her sister’s loyalty to her, but she had been a royal guard far longer than she had known Ivy. How much did her oath to the governor mean to her?

When Rose looked back up, tears were flowing from both eyes. Oh. That wasn't supposed to happen. Ivy felt her chest tighten. She had never seen her sister cry before, and the first time was because of her.

“Rose…I—” she leaned forward, reaching a hand out.

“Ivy!” Rose screamed at the top of her lungs. Ivy recoiled, slamming into the back of the plush couch. “You’ve murdered people! Dozens of people! You killed a duke two nights ago! How could you do something like that?”

“They…they deserved it,” Ivy said.

“According to who? You? Are you the authority on who gets to live and die? Are you goddess of Atrican?”

Ivy frowned.

“You’re being ridiculous. The magistrate dishes out capital punishment all the time. Criminals are judged and executed if their crimes are severe enough. How is that any different? I don’t have to be a goddess to judge someone not worthy of life.”

“You can’t take that all upon yourself! Not only will you break under the weight of it all, but society cannot be sustained that way. We have rules for a reason!”

Ivy jumped to her feet. Rose’s idealistic nonsense lit a fire under her.

“The same rules and laws that say you and I should be tortured and killed for no reason? Are those the rules you want me to follow? Huh, Rose?”

“I understand your anger Ivy. Trust me. I really do. Not every law in the world is just. But you can’t just take it upon yourself to do whatever is right for you. This only furthers what the church says about us.”

“If not me, then who? You? The governor? Who’s going to save us, Rose? Is your kindness going to change a damn thing? Who’s going to stop a corrupt baron from taking whatever he wants with no regard for who he hurts? Who's going to protect those who can't do it themselves? What if I had been a victim? Would you act then, or does the bastard go unpunished because you’re too nice to go against ‘society?’ Is that justice?”

For once, Rose had nothing to say. She knew Ivy was right. She had no idea how old Rose actually was, but what change had she accomplished in her life? Nothing. Rose was complacent. Content in the state of the world as long as she could save the occasional witch that wandered into town. Ivy would be eternally grateful to her for it, but on this issue, she would never budge.

“You have to stop,” Rose said finally.

“What?”

“This persona you have created. The Dragonfly. It has to end.”

“It doesn’t have to do anything. I am the Dragonfly, and I will do as I please.”

“Ivy,” Rose started. Her eyes were still red and puffy, but Ivy had to stay strong and not back down out of sympathy. “Perhaps you are too young to understand. We need to use our powers to help people, not kill them. Only then will they look at us in a different light.”

Too young. Yeah, right. Ivy was helping people. By getting rid of the trash masquerading as humans.

“I can’t believe you expect that to actually work.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rose said, “you can't keep going on like this. The palace is ready to declare a strict marshal law. The ruling class can't sleep at night. Already the guard is on double shifts. Nobles are seeing their family members drop like flies. Did you think nothing would happen? It ends tonight.”

“Or what?” Rose stayed silent. “You can’t stop me. Read me all you want. What can you do? Nothing in this city can stop me.” Still Rose said nothing, only stared at Ivy. Her sister had no options…unless. There was one thing all witches feared, even Ivy. “Are you going to give me up to the paladins?”

At the suggestion, Rose’s face twisted in disgust. It looked like she might vomit right then and there. Yet it was also worse than that. Over the whole course of the argument, Ivy had made Rose angry, disappointed, sad to the point of crying, but never…repulsed. Rose was looking at Ivy like they didn’t know each other.

“Ivy,” Rose said, “give me your hands.”

“Huh?”

“Do it.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Ivy held out her hands and Rose gripped them both, squeezing tightly.

“I’m going to pretend not to be furious with you for a moment because I need you to understand something.”

They were face to face, barely an arms-length between them, and Rose’s teary eyes held Ivy’s own. Ivy nodded.

“K.”

“I would never betray a sister to those monsters. Do you understand? I would die before I gave them the smallest bit of information that might lead them to you.”

Ivy’s eyes began to water as well.

“Oh,” she said.

“You’re my family, Ivy. I hope you know that. And I need you to know that I could never do that to you.”

Ivy could no longer use her frustration to hold herself back. She ripped her hands out from Rose’s grip, throwing her arms around the other witch's neck.

“I do, Rose,” she said, her voice breaking, “of course I do. I’m sorry I brought it up. You know how much I love you. Everything you said, the same goes for me. Of course it does.”

“Good,” Rose said, pushing Ivy away, “now get off of me. I’m still too angry to even look at your face.”

She bounced up from her chair, turned on her heel, and stormed out the door much like she had entered it. The slam on the way out shook the whole building. Uh. Okay. Did that go better or worse than expected? Ivy had no idea what Rose would do next, other than not offer her up to the church. Which pretty much meant she couldn’t do anything to stop Ivy from cleaning up the city. So…

She let the witch world embrace her, pulling at the wellspring of power kept tight within her heart. Jagged, twisted, and curving lines fanned out all around her, but none of it bothered her anymore. This faded, parallel representation of the world—that seemed to possess no parallelism for that matter—existed only for her. She owned this place as much she owned her room at home. It was her domain, and no one could touch her here. Though there was one that always watched her. The demon had never left as the years passed by, invading her space, claiming a little corner of it for its own.

She ignored the creepy jagged-toothed face and skipped along a crooked path, hopping from window to window, rooftop to rooftop, street to street. In a few minutes, Mister Couch’s cousin came into view, and she picked up her pace, anticipating diving into its fluffy cuddles. By the time she rested upon its silky surface, around half of her power had drained from her heart, but she knew she’d be better for it. The exercise would make her come back stronger, and why would she waste all that time walking here normally? Her fight with Rose had riled her up, and she needed a release.

The door to the Bloody Prince’s office swung open, and the prince himself came striding in, huge smile on his face, his captains Marris and Joseph on his heels. Marris wore his usual scowl for Ivy, while Joseph didn't bother looking up from the sheaf of paper in his hands. He was younger and had a much softer face than the grumpy Marris—cute even—and Ivy always preferred dealing with him if not the prince.

“Ah,” the Bloody Prince said upon seeing her in her typical lounging position, “my little Dragonfly. Perfect timing.”

“Oh?” she asked.

“Yes. I have one last job for you.”

“Last? Are you planning on getting rid of me?”

It had been meant as a joke. While she may not trust everyone in the Bloody Flag, she thought her relationship with the Prince had matured to a pretty healthy friendship over the years. Sure, she probably still annoyed him, and he might be a bit severe for her tastes, but still. Despite all that, the three men froze, eying her with stone faced expressions.

“Uhm, hello?” she asked. She remembered what Rose had told her about what the Prince thought of her and chuckled. “Are you guys worried you might be next on my list? Hey Prince, maybe you can dig me up some crimes Marris committed so I can start with him.”

Finally, the Prince joined her in her laughter and waved the other two men out the door. Ivy frowned at them. They had clearly just come in with the Prince for a reason, but her presence would mean to many ears listening. Whatever. Apparently trust only went so far. She had still never figured out what the Prince had been up to all these years. She assumed he wanted more control of the city by offing a bunch of nobles, but he hadn’t gained much at all, continuing to reign over the harbor. And his money stayed hidden as always.

“What I’m about to say next can never come back to me from another mouth,” he said.

“Have I ever given anything away? Why question me now?”

He walked over to his desk and plopped down into the high backed, unadorned wooden chair.

“Because this is the last thing you’ll ever do for me as the Bloody Prince,” he said.

Ivy sat up, suddenly more interested than she already had been due to her fight with Rose.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“I want you to kill the governor of Atrican.”

Ah. So that had been his plan all along.

“You want to take his place.”

“Yes, with you at my side.”

“Ew.”

The Prince rolled his eyes.

“Not as my bride you presumptuous little coquette.” Coquette? Was this old man for real? “God knows I could have grandchildren your age.”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

“You would be my head of security and information. Answer to no one but me.”

“I don’t answer to you now. This is a pretty bad pitch, Prince.”

He let out a long, deep breath.

“Yes, partners, right?”

“Yeah.” Their conversation from years ago replayed in Ivy’s head. Once again he was trying to bring her under his thumb.

“Look,” he said, “I know you do your own thing. But I’ve been gathering resources for over twenty years. I have a crew that’s been loyal just as long. Let’s be honest, Iveriani, you’re very much a wild card. It would make everyone more comfortable if you were an official guildmate.”

Ivy scoffed.

“Well I don’t need your little position or title, and I don’t care if a couple of your lackeys look at me funny. So why don’t you just give me the details of the job, Armond.”

“Fine, but know this conversation isn’t over.” He piled up a couple of papers on his desk and tapped them a few times. “I’m actually amazed you’ve kept up this whole ‘noble assassin’ act this long.”

It wasn’t an act, ass. To the date, she hadn’t accepted a job for anyone not guilty of something that’d send them to the gallows under normal circumstances. Rose would be proud. Hah! The collateral damage would be enough for her to scream at her again.

Ivy lifted herself up from Cousin Couch and approached the Prince. He glared at her, as though that was supposed to do something, and she grinned. Each sheaf of paper had a different crime on it. Most involved women. Stealing an earl’s daughter. Stealing a count’s daughter. Stealing a baron’s daughter. A pattern begun to form. They had sworn testimony that he had forced each woman, some by the women themselves, but the governor could also just be an asshole with a train of spurned women behind him. There were some others like wrongful imprisonment of political enemies who died under torture, or withholding aid to the docks during a bad flood.

“Good?” the Prince asked.

“Sure.”

Though she meant to find out more before condemning a man to death. See, Rose? Diligence was key! She wasn’t some murder happy maniac. Mostly.

“To the palace, then,” she said.