Farin drew in a slow breath as he eased himself through the door. The moon was covered by a cloud, disguising his entrance into the castle with ease. Still breathing slowly and quietly, the assassin slipped through the halls and to the kitchen area of the castle. No one gave him a second look. As a shapeshifter, he possessed the ability to morph into anyone—including a servant.

Although the rest of the castle was preparing to sit down for their meals, the kitchen was still a hubbub of activity. The King Gideon would be eating with only two others tonight—his wife, Sasha, and his most trusted lord, Glenn. That dinner was Farin's target.

One of the older women—most likely the head servant—approached him. "You there!" she said. "What are you doing, standing there like you've got nothing to do? Get busy!"

"What would you like me to do, ma'am?" Farin asked. He hoped she would put him near the food. It would make his job that much easier.

The woman frowned. "You will be in charge of making the plates of food for their Highnesses and Lord Glenn," she said after a moment. "Get to it!"

Farin needed no further instructions. He grabbed three bowls for the appetizer soup and started slopping some of the delicious-smelling broth into them. After glancing around to make sure nobody was looking at him, Farin procured a vial from around his neck, previously concealed under his shirt, and dumped it into all three of the bowls.

Once that was accomplished, he set the three bowls on the tray to be brought into the kitchen. With that, he turned away, but a shout like a whip stopped him short. "Four bowls, fool!" the head servant bellowed at him.

Wondering why and cursing the woman for making him into an idiot, he dumped a fourth bowl of broth out and once again dumped some poison into it. Then he prepared to depart and fade into the shadows like he usually did.

But a movement near the bowls stopped him. To his horror, the head servant was taking the fourth bowl and drinking it down. She wrinkled her nose and said, "This tastes funny."

Farin swore and ran for the door. Almost instinctively, the servants blocked his way without even realizing why. After a moment, the head servant swooned and toppled over, dead before she hit the ground. One of the men yelled out, "Poison!"

The servants grabbed Farin. Never one for physical labor, he was unable to pry himself free, and his hair returned to its original, bleached white as panic set in. From his pocket he produced two dice and tossed them to the floor.

Snake-eyes. He was in deep, deep trouble.