Step 2a: Research your target...

"Shouldn't we be perfecting your method?" Ash paced the room, dark wings fluttering. "We have only one chance to sell this to Lady Lillian. The fate of our twelve-story mansion is at stake!"

"I told you." Ivelle shoved another crumpet in her mouth. "You are gonna stay an' perfec' the twelf stepf plan–" she swallowed "--like the editing genius you are. Meanwhile, I'm gonna dig up some tea on the prince."

"I don't like it. I don't like this place at all."

"It's got its perks." Ivelle sucked the last of the jam off her thumb. "Mmm-mm! That was delicious."

Ash ignored her. He hopped across their four-poster bed, then fluttered to perch on top of the large mirror on the other side of the room. He wasn't normally this fidgety. Something was bothering him.

"Does Lillian seem... familiar to you?" he said, after a pause.

"Huh?"

"Like we've met her somewhere before."

Ivelle frowned at him, filching another crumpet from the generous platter the servants had brought them for dinner as she tried to puzzle through his odd behavior. "... No? I'd def'nitely 'member mee'ing fomeone as pre'ey af 'er before."

Ash fluffed his feathers unhappily. "Forget it. I still don't think you should go out alone! What if the prince pushes you down the stairs?"

"He wouldn't push two people down the stairs in one day. That'd be excessive." Ivelle slapped a quill on the nearby desk and dug in her purse to pull out the 12-step plan scribbled haphazardly on the back of an envelope. "Here. Edit it to your heart's content."

Ash groomed his feathers in agitation, seeming torn between his concern for Ivelle's safety and consternation at the state of her scribbles. His small corvid claws twitched toward the pen. "Be careful," he said at last.

"I will be the most careful person who's ever lived. Don't worry, Ash. I love you too much to leave you all alone in this world." Ivelle blew him a wicked kiss and tweaked his hat. "Especially now that you've become a social pariah among your corvid brethren."

Ivelle ducked out of the room before Ash could squawk in embarrassment, chuckling to herself. Beneath his prickly exterior, Ash was a softie. They might bicker constantly, but she couldn't imagine life without him. She'd only been eleven or so when she'd found him moping about in their cellar after her mom's botched magic spell. Back then, he'd been a shaggy adolescent barely able to fly. They'd looked out for each other ever since. She was pretty sure Ash cared about her more than her parents ever had. Her mum had sometimes been so busy with her devious plots, she'd forget Ivelle existed, and it was always Ash who'd help her scavenge unwanted bread from the bakers' waste bins and sneak into town with filched coins when her mum wasn't looking.

Ivelle turned back to the task at hand. Selling their plan to Lillian was all very well, but she knew the most important part of making this plan a success was getting the deets about Eirifold, and she wasn't going to get that information sitting around eating crumpets. Her mum–the ultimate seductress–had taught her well. You can't pull off a good heist if you haven't done the research, she'd always said. And you haven't properly researched a person until you've learned everything insignificant detail about them, from their favorite appetizer down to the shape of their nose.

Her first stop: the hub of all gossip.

The servants' quarters.

~*~

An hour later, Ivelle was no closer to figuring out how best to poison Eirifold, but she had acquired enough tea to fill several kettles.

The Prince of Estrella, to her complete lack of surprise, had a reputation among the servants. There was the time he'd splashed a servant with boiling tea for not bringing lunch fast enough, not to mention the jester who'd fallen off the balcony under mysterious circumstances while performing for Eirifold just a few weeks ago. The prince had even, the servants told her in hushed voices, released a cage full of baby tigers among the servants on washing day as a practical joke.

"Don't repeat any of this though," said one of the maids (whose name was Anabelle) in hushed tones. "We've all been forced to sign non-disclosure agreements, so we're technically not allowed to spread rumors about the royal family. And definitely don't ask any of the royal servants about the prince. They'll report you to the King, and then..." She made a quick slicing motion across her throat.

Ivelle's brow puckered. "Aren't you the royal servants?"

"We're personal servants of Lady Lillian." Anabelle's expression turned fond. "Lillian hails from Castrena to the north, but she's been living in the Royal Palace for years. One of Lillian's stipulations for marrying Prince Eirifold was that she keep all her own servants, separate from the royal ones."

Castrena... Ivelle racked her brain. She didn't read the news much (there was no point when your local paper refused to publish anything except boring articles extolling the royal family's virtues), but she was pretty sure she'd once read something about how delighted the citizens of Castrena were to be annexed into the glorious kingdom of Estrella. It must've been over ten years ago.

A few more crumpets and several cups of tea later, Ivelle left the servants' quarters with a full belly and a mind buzzing with thoughts. She made a brief pit stop to use the loo and pet some of the stray dogs that were sniffing about the servants' quarters, then stiffened her spine. It was time for the next stage of her snooping: exploring the royal quarters.

Ivelle hadn't kept many things from before her mum died. But there was one magic item she hadn't been able to part with. An invention of her mom's that had been pretty clutch when it came to her hobby of larceny:

Invisibility chewing gum.

It was pretty much exactly what it sounded like. It would turn you invisible until the flavor ran out or you stopped chewing, whichever happened first.

The downside was, it was temporary.

And you had to chew really quietly or you risked getting caught.

And she only had a few packs of her mum's supply left, with no way to replace it. (She had always been shit at magic).

But for the purposes of sneaking into the royal suite, it was perfect.

Ivelle glanced up and down the hall, checking for signs of approaching servants, nobles, guards, or tigers. When she was satisfied no one was in sight, she carefully slid the chewing gum from her satchel and popped it into her mouth.

The effect was instantaneous. All trace of her vanished, down to her ridiculous red and purple jester shoes.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door to the Royal Suite.

"Who goes there?" A guard poked his head out and looked around. Luckily, Ivelle was small, and there was more than enough room between the guard and the door for her to slip through. As the guard looked up and down the hall in confusion, she tiptoed across the carpet.

Voices from the next room reached her ears, sharp and frustrated. Ivelle slid forward, trying not to chew her gum too loudly.

"He pushed a man down the stairs today, Father." A woman's voice – Princess Mariel's, perhaps? "But still you insist on making him King. I am capable of more than he is. Archery, sword fighting, horseback riding, military strategy. At least make me a member of your counsel, instead of plotting to marry me off the prince of some distant land."

Ivelle sidled around the corner.

An overmuscled dark-skinned man with a massive beard sat at a desk. He was backlit by the sunset, but she could still make out a shadow of massive biceps bulging through his tunic. He looked like the kind of man who wrestled alligators for fun. Not in an enthusiastic, conservation-friendly Steve Irwin-esque sort of way, but in a macho Florida man kind of way.

Across from him stood Princess Mariel, stately and composed as ever in her demure tunic.

"Now, now, Mariel," said the overmuscled man, whom Ivelle assumed must be the king. "You are young and kind-hearted, and I know you mean well for the kingdom. I don't like the idea of that useless ding-dong becoming king any more than you do. If I had another son, we wouldn't be having this conversation... but alas."

He shot an irritated glance to his right. With a jolt, Ivelle realized another woman sat next to him. She was blonde, and her skin was so pale that she seemed to blend into the wall behind them. The queen of Estrella, perhaps?

"You don't have to fear for Estrella's legacy," the king continued. "I am hale and healthy, with many years ahead of me. That deadbeat douchenozzle remains my successor for now, but who knows where we'll be in several years, eh? Perhaps I'll sow more seed in younger, greener pastures."

EW! EW EW EW! Ivelle's face screwed up with horror. She chewed her gum even harder, trying to cover the bad taste the king left in her mouth. Your wife is RIGHT THERE. What's the Hell is wrong with you?

Mariel's back was to her, so Ivelle couldn't see the princess' expression, but she could tell from Mariel's flat tone that the princess was no happier with the king's words than she was. "Even if you won't make me your successor," Mariel said, "At least allow me to remain here, as a member of your counsel. I have no desire to be wed to a man I don't know in a kingdom I do not care for."

"Nonsense!" the king said. "I'm finalizing the paperwork for your engagement to the prince of Luntz tomorrow. It's high time you gave up this silly notion of succeeding your old dad and settled down to live a respectable life producing little baby Mariels, eh?"

He laughed as though he'd just said something funny.

Ivelle frowned as she slid away.

Perhaps she might have another client soon if she played her cards right.

But in the meantime, she had a deadbeat douchenozzle of a prince to find.

~*~

The royal palazzo, like the rest of the palace, was a whole lot bigger than Ivelle had thought. By the time she finally found the prince (in the shadow of a pergola in one of the royal gardens), the sun had almost drifted below the horizon.

He was swirling a glass of wine with a far-off, unfocused look. He'd ditched his gold suit in favor of a soft white shirt, and there was a book in his lap–probably 'How To Be An Asshole For Dummies', Ivelle thought snidely–but he wasn't reading it.

Ivelle wondered if the nitwit even knew how to read.

She crept forward, searching for potential weaknesses Lady Lillian might be able to capitalize on. She spotted several straight away. He was here alone; there was no one else in sight. He had set his absurd red spectacles to the side, but he'd replaced them with clear ones instead. It was too bad he relied so heavily on spectacles. They would protect him against getting blinded by spitting cobra venom (or any other venom that targeted the eyes, for that matter). But his wine glass was unprotected. A determined person might be able to sneak on top of the open pergola and drop poison in his wine without him noticing.

Without realizing what she was doing, Ivelle found herself inching closer. She sized up the pergola, testing it with her foot. It was quite sturdy. Definitely a climbable structure. Slowly, Ivelle edged up it, using some of the cross-beams for footrests. Yes, she thought. This could work nicely...

"What are you doing?"

In her shock, Ivelle missed her next handhold. Her foot scrambled for purchase, sliding against a wet patch of ivy. With a yelp, she tumbled to the ground.

She scrambled to her feet.

The prince was staring at her.

"Ah! The new jester. Why are you here?"

Shit, shit, shit!

She had been so absorbed in trying to investigate the pergola, she hadn't noticed the gum in her mouth had lost all its flavor. She was completely visible.

Ivelle dropped a quick bow, surreptitiously brushing leaves off her front as she tried to decide how to disentangle herself from this situation. "Your Highness," she rasped. "I..."

"Have you come to perform for me as I requested?" His voice was slightly slurred.

"Yes!" Ivelle blurted, then kicked herself mentally. "I mean, no. No, I simply came to offer you an apology for not being able to perform tonight. I had hoped to grace your esteemed highness with a performance, but my performances require my crow and... and he is currently indisposed. The–the travel tuckered him out."

"Oh?"

"Yes..." Ivelle rambled. "He was very stressed. And do you know what happens when a birdie gets stressed?" Ivelle lowered her voice conspiratorially, inwardly cringing at what Ash might say if he could hear her now. "They get the runs. It's not great for performances. You should be glad I didn't bring him."

The prince's lips twitched.

"That still begs the question of how you got in here. This garden is supposed to be private. Royals only."

"I didn't know it was private! I'm new here."

"I couldn't tell." He twirled his wineglass thoughtfully, then turned his glazed eyes back toward Ivelle. "You know, in the olden days they used to hang and quarter people who crept up on royals when they weren't expecting it."

"I..."

"But nowadays, we just arrest them and throw them in jail. I'm sure that will come as a huge relief to you! Guards!"

"No! Wait!"

Without thinking, Ivelle lunged forward and grabbed the prince's arm. To her surprise, he didn't recoil like she had expected. He simply stared at her in shock, as though no one in their right mind had ever dared to grab his arm before.

Think, think, think! Ivelle's thoughts whirled frantically. Make some clever comments to get yourself out of this situation! What would your mum do?

But her brain had run out of steam. She'd never been great in a crisis. She could BS her way up to a point, but it was always her mum or Ash who'd extracted her from the gnarliest situations. It was one of many reasons a career in Evil had never seemed all that attractive.

Completely losing control of her senses, Ivelle did the only thing she could think of – the very last tool from her mother's Arsenal of Evil.

She planted a kiss on the prince's mouth.

~*~

This chapter definitely went places I wasn't expecting! LOL. Don't worry, this isn't locking in the prince as the love interest. I haven't 100% figured out who I want the love interest to be yet. It could be anyone.

Well, maybe not King Florida Man.

Word count: 8,312

This week's story shout-out goes to annkreeves and her ONC novella "The Escaped Con's Hostage". It's not often I find a Wattpad bad-boy romance that I actually want to read or where I'm rooting for all the characters, but her story is definitely an exception! Link in comments :)