“You’re going to need these. You know you will.” She hands me a set of newly polished, thin daggers and a new pair of boots, custom made for gripping onto the tiles of a roof or brick wall. I will most certainly need help with not falling off of a roof since my entire mission rests on my ability to sneak into a wealthy nobleman’s home through his roof. In this rainy climate, good boots are required.
I don’t comment on how much these gifts must have cost her or what they mean to me. It’s almost as if she thinks that this mission will go sideways but I try to not think about that. I look at the person I have come to see as a sister, noticing the almost imperceptible look of worry that crosses her face before it was gone and replaced with a mask of irritation. She mistakes my look of shock for confusion about the gifts. She quickly responds with an air of disgust, “Don’t thank me, you needed a new pair of boots anyway, the other ones were ugly.” I nod, taking the boots and daggers from her, brushing off her tone.
I know that she is just trying to hide her emotions from the others in the courtyard by masking them with something to make people stop paying attention to us. The emotions that you can’t mask will be used against you in countless ways so it’s best to hide them. In this place, you have to show no weakness or attachment to anyone. That is how you keep the people closest to you from harm. Being a spy is easier if you are alone.
She doesn’t wait for more of a response than my acceptance of the gifts before her face takes on a slight hue of sadness. The kind of sadness that has gripped onto your soul, dug deep, and refuses to let go. “He’s waiting for you in his office. He wants to talk to you before you leave.” I nod again, not trusting myself to speak without showing just how nervous I am to leave this time. This mission feels different somehow, like I’m standing before a door, willing me to pull it open and reveal itself to me and my hand is hovering over the knob. If I do my job well, then I can finally escape this way of life. Somewhere in my heart I feel like this mission will change my life, but not due to my newly earned freedom. I give her a look that says, “Thank you for everything you have done for me, I will not forget you.” She assesses me and seems to understand what I am trying to convey to her.
With a nod, she jerks her head towards the grand staircase that I dread seeing every time I enter this wretched place and starts to walk towards it, not looking back to see if I follow. I do. With every step up those stairs, I fall deeper into that emotionless part of myself that I despise so much. Once we get to the gold door at the top, she turns to me and whispers a quiet “be safe” and walks away without looking back. I can feel my future in front of me behind that too shiny gold door and destiny looming at my back, waiting to sink its claws into me and pull me into my fate. As I turn that metaphorical and physical knob, I remind myself that one day I will be free of this place if this mission goes according to plan. With an assuring breath and steel in my spine, I swing open the door.