She pressed herself against the crook of a wall, letting the night's shadows overlap her as maids briskly walked by with meal trays. She exhaled softly once they passed, forcing the tension from her jaw. She began the countdown in her mind, ticking off the moments when each guard should theoretically take their first drink of water, their first bite of bread. Of course, the other poor souls in this glorified prison would take those same sips and bites too, but that couldn't be helped.<br/><br/>The usual lively bustle slowly stilled. She resisted the urge to open her mind and prob around her for responsive thoughts. Her orders were very clear-- no psionics while on these grounds. The fair folk held just as much magic, if not more, in their own blood. She was to slip in and out like a spirit in the night. A fly on the wall. An<span style="font-style: italic">it</span>, not even a she.<br/><br/>Her feet ached something wicked. She wanted to sit down.<br/><br/>A server came dashing down the hall, arms flailing as he pumped them. His eyes were wide with panic as he glanced wildly over his shoulder, from the place which he came, and she knew that it was time. She stepped out into the torch light, raising an arm to catch the poor boy across the neck and clothesline him. He crumbled, unable to gasp in shock. She moved without hesitation, her hands jabbing him in his shoulder, then temple, rendering him first paralyzed, then unconscious.<br/><br/>She didn't need to be large to powerful.<br/><br/>She rolled her shoulder, shaking out the pain of having been collided into. She pulled the boy out of the torch light and took a deep breath, bracing herself. She pressed forward, repeating the process until she found her mark.<br/><br/><br/>Her mark was heavy. Her shoulder ached, but not as bad as the gash in her side. Not everyone had drunk her water, but those that hadn't, she handled. It was almost as if she had been trained from birth to do this. Oh wait. Fancy that, she had. She'd heal, the client would collect  what they paid for, and she'd move onto the next assignment.  These were the basic truths of her life.<br/><br/>She had ridden them hard and far, not relenting until her horse whined and her sides screamed. Dawn was lighting up the sky with pastel pinks and oranges. She set them up a camp, it was still half a day's ride to their location.  She tied her mark to a tree and tenderly brushed down her mare. Her mark would stir soon, just like the rest of his people. They wouldn't know what hit them. She smiled to herself, tending next to her injuries, then to her hunger. She sat across from him, chewing on bread as his eyes flickered open. Her immediate features were hidden under the shadow of her hood, but fizzy gold curls escaped from a loose braid, catching dawn's growing light. She lowered her bread from her mouth, brushing off her hands and grabbed a bulging wineskin.  She lifted towards his lips, just out of reach.<br/><br/><br/>"If you scream, no one will hear you. But I<span style="font-style: italic">will</span>drug you. There will be no attempt at magic, or I<span style="font-style: italic">will</span>drug you. You will not try to escape, or plea, or ask questions, or I. Will. Drug you. You will drink. You will eat. You will piss. And you will cause no issues.<span style="font-style: italic">Or I will drug you.</span>Understood?" Her words had a foreign lilt to them as she spoke in common tongue. Her shadowed features became clearer, her crystal-blue eyes narrowing onto his. She was frighteningly pale. Baby fat still clung to her cheeks, and her bottom lip sat larger under her top. She was his age, or younger. But her hand did not shake as it kept the wineskin just out of his reach. She raised her eyebrow, waiting for his response.