Slipping into the party had been easy. Tirastrian had let her in through a side door and covered her entrance by announcing they were about to open the bottles of Grenier brandy that the horde had paid so dearly for. Once she was in and thing had settled for a few minutes, he slipped back by with a tray of wine; handing her a glass, he pointed out the host of the party, Eliran Falconsky, a crime lord whose weapons trafficking ran along the entire continent.
She had hardly recognized herself in the mirror when the female troll was finished with her. At first she was more a little worried about the troll’s idea of beauty, but the image of the woman staring back at her was not someone she knew. Her brown hair fell about her face and shoulders in artless curls. She was wearing a floor length dress with short sleeves made of black and red silk that was open across the back. Around her neck was the silver necklace made up of intertwined flowers and gems. Matching earrings and bracelet rounded out the set.
As she viewed her reflection in the mirror, she had raised a hand to touch the small scar on her cheek, just to make certain that it was her.
Scarlet took a moment to study Falconsky surreptitiously from behind her wineglass. He was a tall man, well built with long auburn hair. He wore a dark blue shirt threaded through with silver thread and black pants. Polished black boots finished the ensemble and she could see several rings on his hands. He was a striking man—the strong chin and defined cheeks of a blood elf served him well and he presented with a presence that seemed to draw the eye of many women in the room; they were interested not only in his handsome face and body, but also in his power and money. He moved from guest to guest as he greeted them with an easy grace that seemed slightly predatory. This was his territory and he was keeping close watch.
She took another sip of her wine as she let her gaze rove over the room, noting the exit to the outside garden on the right and the staircase at the back of the room. To the left side was the hallway and at the front of the room was a long bar where Tirastrian and another man were working. Tirastrian would occasionally circulate through the crowd with various drinks while the other man worked to keep the glasses continually filled.
She took another sip of her wine. The red liquid was quite delicious and expensive—it was another moment of déjà vu and she didn’t have time to ponder it. She knew she needed to pace herself, even as she took another sip. She was nervous but she reminded herself that she could do this and hopefully get it done without compromising herself.
Satisfied that she had the lay of the house, she turned her attention back to locating her target. She found him speaking with a small group of people about midway through the room. She had decided on how she was going to approach the situation and hoped that her plan would be enough to get and keep his attention. Her stomach turned over and she ruthlessly squelched any qualms she had about what she was about to. Bombs were big money and bigger body counts; she could do this, she had to.