Who Said Life was Fair? - A Novella

Chapter Three

"Thousand." His voice came out as barely more than a whisper as he slowly turned around – and his chin dropped at the sight.

A completely different woman stood before him. She was much shorter, for one, with a smaller bust, and more pronounced cheekbones. Her hair, once a vibrant sky blue, was now a bleached blonde almost bordering on white – all the rage in the city, no doubt Gladys' way of making her daughter seem more appealing – and her eyes, once a dark brown, were now flecked with green.

Lucas could almost have excused himself and left, convinced this was an entirely different person, if she hadn't spoken right that moment.

"Where is your brother? I wasn't informed of the change."

Because her voice, her voice was the exact same stream of bitter, refreshing lemonade with a hint of sweetness. Lucas was sure he could pick anyone's voice out of a crowd – in fact, it was about the only thing that made him capable of avoiding Felicity and Noemia like the plague – but Thousand's was especially distinct.

Still, it's not every day you see someone transform into another person in front of you.

"He's, uh, busy," Lucas managed to stammer. "Are you sure you're..." His words seemed to lose themselves as Thousand nodded – not that he needed any confirmation. "How?"

"I have my methods. Why do you think he hired me?" Her tone seemed impatient, as if she wasn't used to saying so many words at a time.

As Thousand gestured for him to follow her, Lucas marveled at her change in behavior. In a split second, she'd gone from gruff mercenary to perfectly poised noblewoman with a honeyed smile that could rival Aunt Primrose's. She batted her eyelashes, and he struggled to understand how this was the same person.

Oh, he realized. This was probably her job. A mercenary with a thousand faces.

Any normal person would've probably been put off by this. After all, what good is trying to understand someone when you don't even know their real self? In his mind, he pictured his brother. Rodric would most certainly have no interest in mysterious mercenaries. Why would he, as long as they were useful? He saw the world as it was.

But Lucas saw it as it could be – a challenge. Under the flawless acting, beneath the carefully perfected poise, there was always a human being, with hopes and dreams – he knew that better than anyone.

I will figure her out. He made that promise to himself as he followed Thousand further away from the center of the ball.

~

After what seemed like hours of endless walking, she finally stopped, putting a hand to her ear, then glancing at him and nodding. All clear. Lucas nodded back eagerly, and she frowned.

"You're going to have to shed those habits if you want to impersonate your brother." He raised an eyebrow. Impersonate?

As if in response, she continued talking. "We have to style your hair, teach you how to properly groom yourself. I'd want to burn the freckles, but that would draw attention." She listed off each of the items on her hand with almost no expression on her face. Still, Lucas watched her, enraptured.

"What am I impersonating him for?" He didn't catch his words in time – the question was already out. I really need to stop asking stupid questions, if I ever want them to take me seriously.

Fortunately, she didn't seem too irritated. "The job involves the defamation of King Ivory of Pluma. Don't worry, everyone here despises him, so they won't report us." She looked away, and Lucas wondered if she hated him too.