Jaime resisted the urge to mutter to herself as she made her way to the clearing where Cassandra had liked to meet with her beau. This was an annoyance she didn't want to deal with, but she needed to if she wanted to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to herself.
The past few days had been a busy one for Young Mistress Vera's household. Their mistress had announced that she had been invited to stay at a special location by her friend, Darian Wind Dance, and she didn't know how long that she would be gone. As such, she had wanted everything she could possibly need packed away for the journey.
In addition to the basic necessities, "everything she could possibly need" included the various medical scrolls and texts Young Mistress Vera kept in her home, her furniture, and the small mountain of clothing she owned. Her servants had been busy packing everything away.
Jaime herself had been even busier. Young Mistress Vera had also announced that she would bring two servants with her. Bella Thorburn was a given, since she was Young Mistress Vera's handmaiden.
Despite Jaime's hatred of the woman, she also had to admit that Bella was competent. While her habit of ordering the other servants around was annoying, she knew what she was doing. Bella had directed them to get everything ready in the fastest, most efficient way possible. Without her help, it would have taken more than a few days to pack away everything Young Mistress Vera wanted. As such, to avoid any unnecessary delays, Jaime halted her plans to poison the woman.
Lucky bitch.
The other servant to accompany Young Mistress Vera would be whoever proved themselves the most able during the three days of preparation. Jaime knew she needed to be picked. Whatever this special location was, she suspected it had to do with Darian's Immortal benefactor. While she didn't know how it would benefit her if she went, she needed to go there to find out. Even if the special location wasn't related, she wanted to keep close to Young Mistress Vera to continue with her mission.
However, Jaime also knew she wouldn't have been picked if she relied on her own skills as a servant, even with Cassandra's memories and personality to draw upon. The younger woman had been new to the household, while all the other servants had years of experience.
Unlike Cassandra, however, Jaime was a cultivator with access to many poisons that had nonlethal effects. Laxatives, sleeping powders, and other such petty substances. She used these poisons to sabotage the other servants. It had been tricky, striking a balance between ensuring the other servants looked bad while keeping things from being too delayed, but she managed.
Jaime's efforts were rewarded at the end of the three days, when Bella had told her that she would be the other servant to accompany Young Mistress Vera. The woman had delivered the news with a smirk, which didn't bother Jaime in the least. Not until Bella had delivered her other bit of news.
"It seems that a certain farm boy arrived at Mt. Wind Dance to ask after you, Cassandra," Bella had said. "As we agreed, I did what I could to keep things quiet, but I would handle it if I were you. If your family finds out about him, and they make enough noise, you might lose this opportunity to get into the Young Mistress' good graces."
While Jaime didn't care about Young Mistress Vera's good graces too much, she couldn't lose this opportunity to benefit from whatever special place Darian Wind Dance had prepared. Thankfully, in keeping with their agreement from before, Bella had helped Jaime arrange a meeting with Cassandra's farm boy. Bella might have been two-faced and petty, but at least she kept her word.
And so, Jaime found herself at the outskirts of Valeheart in the middle of the night, to meet Cassandra's beau. To be honest, Jaime had forgotten about him. He had meant the world to Cassandra. To Jaime, however, he meant nothing. At best, he would have been a distraction from her mission. She ignored whatever messages he had sent her, and never arrived at the clearing at the prearranged times.
However, she hadn't expected him to show up at Mt. Wind Dance. The boy was lucky that he had just been turned away by Clan Wind Dance's hidden sentries. If he had shown up to the abode of any other clan, sect, or school like that, he would have been beaten for his impudence first. The Pit Viper Sect would have either killed him, or enslaved him.
Now that was a thought. Perhaps Jaime could kidnap him when she left Silverwood Vale and make him her slave. The boy was handsome enough, and it had been a while for her. Her attempts to seduce Darian Wind Dance had sputtered out before they could even begin.
The sound of someone approaching pulled Jaime back to the present. As a cultivator, her senses were sharp, so it took a while before whoever it was appeared in the clearing. Despite the late hour, the sky was clear and the waxing moon provided more than enough light to see by, even for mortals. For Jaime, it might as well have been day.
It was the farm boy.
Jaime almost called out to him, before she realized that she didn't remember his name. She searched through Cassandra's memories. Reginald. No, Reggie. Cassandra called him Reggie.
"Reggie," Jaime called out, keeping her voice quiet.
"Cassie!" Reggie said, approaching her. "You've come. I was worried that you wouldn't show up. When you didn't reply to my messages, and when you didn't show up to our meetings, I thought something had happened to you."
Cassandra would have felt guilty. The girl would have never ignored Reggie, or failed to meet up with him. If she had, she would have done everything in her power to make it up to him. Jaime, however, did not give a damn. The sooner this farce ended, the better.
"I…I couldn't come, Reggie," Jaime said.
Reggie stopped in front of her. He reached out to her, but Jaime pulled away.
"Why not?" he asked, confused. "What happened, Cassie?"
Jaime shook her head, and looked away.
"We can't see each other anymore, Reggie. My family found out about us. They forbade me from seeing you again."
"I thought you didn't care about that," Reggie said.
Jaime sniffled.
"They threatened to disown me if we kept meeting," she said, her voice thick with false sorrow. "I love you, but they're my family. I hope you understand."
"Oh, I understand all right." Reggie's voice turned harsh. "Now that you've had your fun, you're dropping me like a sack of potatoes."
Jaime looked back at Reggie. He loomed over her, an ugly expression on his face.
"No!" she said. "Reggie, it's not like that!"
"Please, you can stop pretending. I know how you people are. Just because you spend your days on that mountain, licking Clan Wind Dance's boots, that you can look down on the rest of us. Let me tell you that you're not better. You're mortal like the rest of us. No, you're worse. You're just lap dogs for Clan Wind Dance. I'm surprised you're not wearing a collar."
Reggie spoke with such venom in his voice, that Cassandra would have been horrified to hear it.
'Why is he saying these things?' a quiet voice in the back of Jaime's head said.
"Reggie, stop!" Jaime said, taking a step back.
"It's not fair," Reggie said, ignoring her. "You get the easy life, while I spend my days digging in the dirt. Why do you get to be so lucky, huh? What's so special about you?"
Jaime took another step back. Reggie stepped forward in response.
"It's not like that, Reggie. Please, stop saying such horrible things!"
"You're not special. I mean, look at you. You're just an ugly little twig."
Those words would have stabbed Cassandra in the heart. They just angered Jaime. She had planned to end the relationship and let Reggie go without a fuss. That was before he had insulted her looks. After all, one of the reasons she had picked Cassandra was because they had similar appearances.
"Reggie, you don't mean that," Jaime said, choking back fake tears. "You said I was pretty. You're just saying that out of anger."
Reggie sneered at her.
"I also said that I loved you. Did you really believe that too?" He scoffed. "Of course you did. You were so desperate for attention, that you fell for the first man who showed even the slightest bit of interest. It's pathetic."
So that's how shy and plain-faced Cassandra had ended up with a handsome boy like Reggie. It had all been an act. A lie.
Something shattered within Jaime. It sounded like a heart breaking.
'He never loved me?' the quiet voice from earlier cried out.
Jaime ignored the voice. She would handle it later. Right now, she had an uppity mortal to deal with. However, for Cassandra's sake, she would give him one last chance to save his skin.
"I never want to see you or hear from you again!" she said, before turning around to leave.
Before Jaime took more than a few seconds, a rough hand grabbed her wrist and spun her back around. Reggie's angry face was inches from hers.
"I'm not done talking with you!" he snarled.
So, he had chosen death.
Just as Reggie inhaled to say something else, Jaime reached into her pocket with her free hand and threw a purple powder into his face. He let go of her wrist and stumbled back, coughing. The coughing turned to choking as Reggie found himself unable to breathe. His face turned a lovely shade of purple.
Jaime watched as he fell to his knees, clawing at his throat. It turned bloody, but no matter how hard he tore into his neck, he couldn't draw a breath. It wasn't long before he fell over, still struggling. The choking became an odd gurgling sound. Soon, his movements grew weaker and weaker.
It would have been faster for Jaime to kill him with her bare hands, but not as satisfying.
While Reggie wriggled on the ground like a worm, Jaime cleaned off her hands. She didn't want to accidentally inhale it herself. Constrictor's Breath wasn't lethal to a cultivator of her level, but it was still an unpleasant experience.
When Jaime finished cleaning her hands, she glanced back at Reggie. His eyes found hers, and he gave her a pleading look, his gaze full of desperation.
A cruel, wicked smile stretched across her lips.
"Don't worry, Reggie," she said in a poisonously sweet voice. "It'll all be over soon."
Jaime felt an unholy satisfaction when she saw the despair in his eyes as he realized he was going to die. It didn't take long for him to stop moving altogether. He continued to stare at her, his face etched into an expression of terror.
The quiet voice in the back of her mind wailed. Jaime kept ignoring it. She suspected it as an effect of wearing the Mask of the Mortal Face for too long. She would have to study herself later, when she returned to Young Mistress Vera's house.
Reaching into her pockets again, she pulled out a powerful acid and poured it over Reggie's body. While it was a waste to use something like this to get rid of the corpse, it was better than any of the alternatives. This method would draw the least amount of questions her way. Soon, all that remained of Reggie was a foul smelling puddle. She covered it with a thin layer of dirt.
***
After disposing of Reggie's body, Jaime headed back to Mt. Wind Dance. She had wasted enough time on him, and she was a woman on a mission. Plus, she had to study the effects the mask had on her mind and soul.
At first she thought the voice in the back of her head had been hers, but now she knew it wasn't. It sounded far too much like the deceased Cassandra. The notes she had researched said that wearing the Mask of the Mortal Face for too long made the wearer believe they were the mortal they pretended to be. Or at least that was the impression she got. The notes had been vague on that part, and she didn't fully understand what they meant.
After she had returned to Mt. Wind Dance, however, and neared Darian Wind Dance's house, she heard something. She stopped to listen. It sounded like someone playing the harp, or making a poor attempt at it at least. That wasn't unusual. The cultivators of Clan Wind Dance liked to practice singing or playing musical instruments during their free time. The harp was the most common instrument. While their level of skill varied, depending on the cultivator, as a whole they were quite skilled.
If Jaime was being honest with herself, she preferred this over what the disciples of the Pit Viper Sect did for fun. Some of what they did was benign, such as the races and contests of skill and strength. Others, however, preferred playing cruel tricks and games, usually at the expense of the mortal slaves owned by the Pit Viper Sect. However, sometimes they played these same tricks on their fellow disciples.
While Jaime didn't care about what happened to the mortal slaves, and had even participated herself with enthusiasm, she hadn't enjoyed being the victim of those very same games. That had stopped when she became one of her Master's personal disciples, and she had even gotten revenge on those who had wronged her, but the memories of those cruel tricks remained lodged in her mind. They illustrated that she could not trust any of her fellow disciples, not really.
In that regard, that was the difference between the cultivators of Clan Wind Dance and the disciples of the Pit Viper Sect. While the members of Clan Wind Dance argued and fought with each other, and were sometimes quite cruel to each other, betrayal and backstabbing were not the norm. They trusted one another, and that made a significant difference in the way they treated each other.
Jaime had never felt so alone before. When she finished with her mission, she would have to leave all this behind, all the music and warmth and comfort, and go back to the Pit Viper Sect.
She would have to go back to the place where she had to watch her surroundings every second, watching for the inevitable stab in the back. She would have to go back to the place where she had to fight tooth and nail just to keep ahead of the rest of the pack, because if she fell behind, they would devour her alive. She had to go back to the place where the only people who cared about her existence were those who wanted something from her. This included her Master and his other personal disciples.
It was all quite bleak, now that she thought about it. Still, it had been worth it to become stronger, to no longer be weak and helpless, at the mercy of those stronger than her. She would no longer be tossed aside and left to die.
It had all been worth it.
Then why did she feel so tired just thinking about it?
A discordant note grated on Jaime's ears, pulling her out of her morose thoughts.
"I know, Elliot," a voice said, coming from the same direction as the…music. It was Darian. "I'm trying, okay? It's just that this is harder than I thought it would be."
Jaime, curious, headed in the direction of Darian's house. It wasn't hard. He lived right next to the mountain road that wound its way up Mt. Wind Dance. Perhaps this was an opportunity. If she ingratiated herself with him, who knew what kinds of rewards she would reap? She still hadn't given up on trying to seduce him.
When Darian's house came into view, she saw him sitting in front of it, practicing the harp. A lamp with a light crystal in it hung from the wall next to the front door, illuminating the space in front of it. Darian himself sat on a cushion with a wooden harp in his lap. He plucked at the strings in a poor attempt at playing. Jaime had heard many people play the harp in her life, especially here at Mt. Wind Dance, and he was by far the worst.
Darian's head snapped up as she approached, and she saw his cheeks redden. However, the embarrassment on his face disappeared and was replaced by concern.
"Cassandra!" he called out, standing up. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
Jaime didn't get a chance to respond before Darian rushed over to her and cupped her face, wiping her cheeks. It was at that moment that she realized that she had been crying. Tears streamed down her face, and snot dripped out of her nose. It was her turn to flush with embarrassment.
Jaime, and Cassandra for that matter, had always been an ugly crier. That was one reason why she had learned to never cry, on the outside at least. Another was that showing weakness in front of her fellow disciples at the Pit Viper Sect had led to mockery and more of those cruel tricks.
The argument with Reggie, and his death, must have affected Jaime more than she had realized. How insidious. The Mask of the Mortal Face, as well as Cassandra's memories, had influenced her more than she had suspected. She could still hear the voice wailing in the back of her mind.
It seemed that she had underestimated the dangers of the Mask of the Mortal Face. She would have to find a way to deal with it, or remove the mask to preserve herself. However, she was reluctant to do that. It was how she had managed to succeed in her mission so far.
Before she could contemplate this further, Darian guided Jaime to the cushion he had vacated. She went along with it, still pretending to be the shy and meek servant girl. After she sat down, Darian ran into his house. He reappeared moments later with a cloth and handed it to her. Jaime wiped her face, looking away from him.
"Stella is making some tea now," he said in a gentle voice. "That always makes me feel better when I cry."
Jaime stilled at the mention of Stella. While she didn't know much about the woman, she knew that this Stella was more dangerous than she appeared to be. The last thing Jaime wanted was to earn the woman's attention, or her ire.
"I should go, Young Master Darian," Jaime said. "I'm sorry for letting you see me in such a state."
She started to get up, but Darian placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. His grip was gentle. If she wanted to, she could have broken free, even if she held herself back to Cassandra's rather paltry level of strength. She didn't, for some reason.
"Don't worry, I'll protect you from Stella. I know she was mean to you last time. It won't happen again." He grinned at her. "Besides, if I sent you back to Vera's house looking like this, she would tan my hide. For my sake, please stay just a little longer."
Jaime did as he asked and sat back down. Darian's touch felt as warm as she remembered, and she was still tired. It wouldn't hurt to take a little rest. Right?
Darian's hand moved from her shoulder to her back, and started rubbing it. There was nothing licentious or lascivious about it. He was simply trying to soothe and comfort her, given her apparent distress, the same way one might with a child.
Wait a moment. Things weren't supposed to go like this. She was supposed to seduce Darian. The problem was, he had seen her with tears and snot running down her face. Unless he had some strange tastes, she doubted he found her attractive.
This just worsened her mood. She was a member of the Pit Viper Sect, a disciple of its sect leader no less. She was supposed to be an expert on trickery and deceit. Why was she having so much trouble trying to entice one inexperienced boy? Every time she attempted it, circumstances worked against her and she failed before she even had a chance to try.
First there had been the immortal wine and Stella to foil her efforts, and now the Mask of the Mortal Face itself had interfered with her attempt. Perhaps she should just find another way to get what she wanted from him. In that, she hadn't given up.
If nothing else, earning his sympathy seemed like a good start.
"So, what happened?" Darian asked her. "What's wrong? You don't have to tell me, but I am a good listener, if I say so myself. Perhaps telling someone about it might help."
Jaime thought about it, and mentally shrugged. Why not? Maybe it would make her feel better, and it wasn't like what happened actually mattered to her. That was just the mask's influence.
"I…" she started to say. "He…" She swallowed. "Reggie, he, uh…"
Darian waited patiently and continued to rub her back.
"Reggie and I had a fight," she said, spitting the words out. It had been much more difficult than she had anticipated.
"This Reggie is your man, I take it?" Darian asked.
Jaime nodded.
"I assume your relationship is a secret. Otherwise, why would you meet him outside of Mt. Wind Dance at this time of night?" He smiled. "Don't worry, I won't judge. And I won't tell either. Your secret is safe with me."
"Was," she said. "We're no longer together. Reggie wasn't who I thought he was."
The same could be said of her, but that was beside the point. Jaime had murdered Cassandra and taken her place in order to fulfill her mission. Reggie had no excuse for being an ass.
"It was all a lie," she continued. "He didn't love me, like he said he did. I was just…" She let out a bitter laugh. "I don't know what I was to him. A distraction? A toy for his amusement? A means to an end? A servant of Clan Wind Dance, fooled by a farm boy. What a joke. I thought he wanted to marry me."
Maybe that was the point. Marrying Cassandra would have allowed Reggie to live on Mt. Wind Dance. It would have been a step up in life for a farm boy like him.
"He sounds like an ass," Darian said, his words mirroring Jaime's thoughts. "You're better off without him."
"Am I? He was the only one who…" Jaime stopped, looking down at herself. "He was the only one who called me pretty, the only one to find me attractive. That was just another lie. He was right. I am an ugly little twig."
Darian clicked his tongue.
"Then he was a blind ass. Of course you're pretty."
Jaime looked at him.
"You mean that? You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"
"No. You are pretty, in a cute and mousy sort of way."
From the look on his face, Jaime realized that he was being sincere and earnest. Granted, being called mousy wasn't the most flattering compliment, but Darian was trying, bless his soul.
Jaime felt something well up within her, and tears blurred her vision. Before she could think about it, she threw herself into Darian's arms. She caught Darian off guard, almost knocking him over.
For some reason, even though she was pretending to be Cassandra, Jaime felt like he had said those words to her. Was this a result of the mask's influence? It had to be. She was a cultivator with decades of experience. A compliment like that shouldn't have made her feel this way, as if she were, well, an inexperienced and sheltered servant girl like Cassandra.
That, more than anything, illustrated to Jaime just how dangerous the Mask of the Mortal Face was. Taking it off seemed like the better option now, no matter how much that would affect her mission. What was the point in succeeding, if she lost herself in the process? She might even have to leave Mt. Wind Dance.
Jaime was reluctant to do that. Part of it was fear of failing her mission. She had found out a lot, but there was more she could learn. Part of it was the mask's influence. Mt. Wind Dance had always been Cassandra's home. She loved the place, and she loved her family, despite their objections to her relationship with Reggie. Hell, if anything, his actions had proven them right.
Part of it, however, was Jaime herself. She knew herself well enough to understand that much. Living on Mt. Wind Dance was like a dream to her. Yes, that was the best way to put it. It was warm and safe and comfortable. She wished she had lived here when she was a child, after her mother had died. Maybe then things would have turned out differently.
It was a good dream, but now it was time to wake up. She was Jaime, a disciple of the Pit Viper Sect and one of the personal disciples of Sect Leader Augustine. Mt. Wind Dance wasn't for the likes of her. She didn't belong here. If Clan Wind Dance found out who she really was, and what she had done, they would kill her on the spot. She had enslaved and tortured and killed.
Jaime didn't belong here.
However, perhaps she could indulge herself for a little while longer. Let the dream continue, just for tonight. For now, she would continue to pretend to be Cassandra.
"I'm sorry you had to go through something like that," Darian said, wrapping his arms around her and patting her back.
His body language was stiff and awkward, as if he didn't hug crying servant girls all that often. He likely didn't. Jaime buried her face in his chest. The vest he wore left a lot of his skin bare. It felt nice and warm. Not soft, however. No, he was not soft at all.
Like before, Darian smelled enticing as well. Damn it. It hadn't been the immortal wine after all. Oh well. It didn't matter. This was just a dream after all. She allowed herself to be attracted to the sweet, but naive, boy.
"I'm sorry for putting you in this position," Jaime said, turning her head to the side so her voice wasn't muffled. She meant it too. If he knew who she really was, he would be horrified.
"I'll admit, it is a little awkward," Darian said, with a nervous chuckle. "I don't have much experience with comforting crying women."
"Or women in general, I imagine," Jaime said in a teasing tone.
"Hey!"
"Am I wrong, Young Master Darian?" she said. "From what I've seen, the only woman you spend any time with is Young Mistress Vera."
"Somewhat," he admitted. "Most of the women I spend time with are all family, in one way or another. Maybe Auntie was right." He paused. "Wait a minute, how did this get turned on me? I thought this was about you."
Jaime didn't respond right away.
"I'm sorry, Young Master Darian," she said. "I just wanted to tease you a little."
"I see. Does that mean you feel better now? Vera might get worried if you stay out for too long. Or if not her, one of her other servants."
Jaime nodded. Bella would be keeping an eye out for her, if only to gloat some more when she returned.
"I do." She pulled away from Darian, a little sad that the dream had ended so soon. "Thank you for listening to me. You were right. It helped."
Darian coughed.
"It was the least I could do."
An impulse struck Jaime. If the dream had to end, then why not take a little risk? She was leaving anyway. It's not like she had to keep pretending to be the shy and meek servant girl. Her cover didn't matter as much anymore.
"Kiss me," Jaime said.
Darian stared at her flabbergasted.
"What?" he asked.
"Kiss me," she repeated.
Jaime had already experienced Darian with her other senses, now she wanted to taste him. If she was going to leave, she would rather do so without regrets.
Besides, she doubted he would refuse. Why would he? Men found crying damsels attractive, didn't they? She was young and pretty and vulnerable, or at least she pretended to be. Some men would have pinned her to the ground already, despite their public setting.
Darian put a hand on her shoulder.
"That's not a good idea," he said in a gentle voice. "You're not in a good place right now, and I won't take advantage of that. It wouldn't feel right to me. Besides, Vera would kill me if she found out." He shook his head. "It also wouldn't look good for either of us. I'm a cultivator of Clan Wind Dance, and you are a mortal servant. There would be gossip. They would say I either coerced you somehow, or you seduced me. Regardless, we would both lose."
Jaime stared at him. At that moment, she seriously considered if he was attracted to women at all. Here she was, all but throwing herself at him, and he kept refusing. No, she had thrown herself at him.
Jaime huffed. At this point, it was just insulting. Was she just bad at seduction? No, it must be Darian's fault.
"You're worried over nothing," she said. "There is no one else around."
As if to put lie to her words, the door to his home slammed open, causing both of them to jump. Stella stood in the doorway, holding a tray with a mug atop it. Steam rose from the mug. Jaime smelled it from her seat. It was chamomile tea.
"The tea is ready, Young Master," Stella said, her voice icy. She looked at both of them. "Am I interrupting something?"
Jaime looked at herself and Darian. They were close to one another, and a little disheveled. To an outside observer, it looked like they had just been in an embrace. They had been, but not in the way most would think.
"No," Darian said. "Cassandra was about to head back to Vera's place."
He looked unworried. Why wouldn't he be? Nothing had happened, not really. Even if something had happened, so what? He was a Young Master of Clan Wind Dance. It's not like he would have gotten in trouble for playing around with the servants. That sort of thing was allowed in cultivation clans, as long as it stayed within reason of course.
"I see," Stella said. "In that case, I will escort her home. It's dangerous to be out alone at night, even here on Mt. Wind Dance."
That sounded like a threat. Panic pulsed through Jaime's body.
"That is quite all right, Stella," she said, scrambling to her feet. "I can find my way to Young Mistress Vera's home from here. I know the route well enough."
Darian stood up as well.
"I insist," Stella said. "Besides, I could use the exercise."
"Leave her alone, Stella," Darian said, stepping in between them.
Stella gave him a look that Jaime couldn't decipher.
"Young Master, I'm not going to eat the girl. Who do you take me for?"
"You."
There was a world of meaning in that word. Jaime looked between the two of them. There was something going on here. However, she had no idea what it was.
After several long moments, Stella sighed.
"Fine. I won't escort her home."
"Thank you," Darian said.
He turned around and gave Jaime an apologetic smile.
"Sorry about that," he said. "Would you like me to escort you home?"
Jaime was tempted to say yes, if only to try and get him to kiss her. Hell, she might just force the issue. However, the look Stella gave her sent chills down her spine.
"No, Young Master Darian," she said. "Thank you. Have a good night."
"You as well, Cassandra."
With that, Jaime left and headed in the direction of Young Mistress Vera's home. The moment Stella was out of sight, Jaime sped up and headed to where she had stashed her holding bag. While she had accessed it several times during her stay on Mt. Wind Dance, she had never kept it on her. It would have been too suspicious.
Thank the ancestors she hadn't. Otherwise, she would have had to go all the way to Young Mistress Vera's home to retrieve her things before leaving Mt. Wind Dance. She would leave tonight. Her original plan had been to wait until morning, when Young Mistress Vera headed out for the special place, to avoid suspicion.
That was no longer an option.
Jaime's intuition was telling her that she needed to leave as soon as possible. She was in grave danger, and staying here exacerbated that danger. It wasn't hard to guess the source either. Stella, Darian's servant.
Ha!
The woman was most definitely some kind of guardian left behind by Darian's Immortal benefactor, and not a mere servant. Jaime cursed herself for being so stupid. She should have left Darian alone after meeting Stella for the first time, when the woman had scared her off.
But no, she had to get greedy and try to take advantage of Darian a second time. Stupid! It didn't help that she found him attractive. The problem was, she didn't know if it was the mask's influence or her own tastes. Maybe both. Cassandra would have found Darian attractive as well, after all.
That didn't matter now. What mattered was getting off Mt. Wind Dance and leaving Silverwood Vale. After that, she would take off the mask and figure out her next move. Perhaps there was a chance to salvage her mission.
Jaime used one of the escape routes she had planned out in advance. It was one she had picked out to avoid as many eyes as possible. She remained vigilant, keeping an eye out for any sign of Stella. She found none, but she didn't relax.
It was slow going, however, and by the time she actually made it off the mountain, it was well past midnight. Dawn was a few short hours away.
Once she was off Mt. Wind Dance, however, Jaime sped up. She ran, going through the Silverwood to avoid as many people as possible. At her cultivation level, going full speed through the forest while avoiding trees, rocks, and other obstacles was child's play. Even if she hit something, she would just go right through it.
Paranoid about being followed, she kept changing her route, to throw off any pursuers. She also obscured her trail using a special powder she had personally created, Shadowpass Powder. Anyone trying to track her through mundane means, mind sense, or spirit energy techniques would have a difficult time doing so.
It was during one of these route changes that Jaime stopped. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Her stomach dropped. Something told her that all her efforts to escape and hide her tracks had all been in vain. She sensed nothing around her, except for trees and the occasional wild animal, but she knew that she wasn't alone. Her intuition all but screamed at her. She could feel someone watching her with malevolent eyes.
"Where do you think you're going, little rat?" Stella's voice said.
Before Jaime even had a chance to react, the world faded away and she fell unconscious.