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Realizing how silly her whole, internal debate was, she shook off her thoughts. Immediately, other thoughts — of infinitely more importance — took their place.
What other changes did the royal family make?
Are they really so terrible? Or — are they small and seemingly insignificant, but clearly upsetting to someone like Drey?
And what is it about the changes that makes everyone so upset?
Was it simply being denied personal freedoms or did the issue go deeper than that?
And why don't they spend their time on more important things? It's not as if there is a shortage of problems in Auralius right now.
Oh, this is ridiculous.
She shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts. She was here to do a job, plain and simple. She would get the job done and then she would go back to her other life . . . her normal life.
Do I even have a normal life?
Restlessness swept through her and she found herself pacing back and forth from the balcony — to the bed — and back again.
After several minutes, she walked over and sat down at the enormous desk that sat across the room from her bed.
Picking up a pen that had been laying on the satiny smooth surface of the desk, she absently traced the royal crest that was printed on the top of the page, while she tried to figure out exactly what to write.
She knew the sudden departure of the Prince had to be reported, but something was stopping her.
Her reluctance made no sense — especially given what she had learned about the Prince and his life here in the palace.
And yet, something was stopping her . . .
Could she ignore the voice in her head, telling her to stay quiet, or would she ignore her training?
She sat for several minutes thinking it over. Why should she consider ignoring her training over a target — and the confusion that his touch brought her?
She'd never had a problem overriding her training when she had a better way of doing something; which was more or less what she had already done with the Prince anyway, snapping at him instead of fawning.
But that had nothing to do with her sudden reluctance.
Well, perhaps it did . . . a little.
Drey had said that he'd seen something special in her and that was why he'd chosen her.
And she'd been puzzling over it ever since. Certainly he knew of her record with the organization.
He'd chosen her in spite of it.
There must be a reason.
Had he seen some value in her determination to do things her own way when something was not going the way it was supposed to?
After all, she always got the job done . . . one way or another.
Something else was going on here. She was certain of it . . . and until she got to the bottom of it, she was going to follow instructions.
Not that she had much choice . . . she might have gotten the Prince's attention, but she was hardly in a position to carry out her mission . . .
Yet.
So she would wait, and watch until an opportunity presented itself.
With that in mind, she leaned over the paper and carefully began composing the coded message that would be delivered to headquarters.
Under normal circumstances, she would be responsible for getting to the first drop point. However, she was not allowed to leave the palace grounds by herself, so arrangements had been made for a change in the first drop point.
She would have the letter sent to the residence she had temporarily taken command of, and the operatives there would pass it along to the next point.
Secretly, she had railed against the change in her routine.
Even though she enjoyed flouting the rules now and then when it suited her, it felt as if her skills had been called into question.
As if I couldn't possibly sneak past the palace guards if I chose to.
She was tempted to do it — just to prove she could; not to mention the opportunity to get away from this suffocating palace.
To be out in the fresh air . . . to be running along silent streets or climbing the enormous walls that surrounded the Palace.
Ahh, now that is true freedom . . .
Hmm . . . but where would I go?
She thought it over while the ink dried on her finished correspondence.