The spy

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The girl couldn’t have been older than 18 years old, but there was a cunning about her, a maturity behind the eyes that not many girls her age possessed. She had long dark hair that was pulled into a soft ponytail at the nape of her neck, and she wore a simple blue dress that brought out the color of her blue eyes.

She listened at the door for softening sounds of footsteps that were walking away from her room, and when she was sure that they were far enough away, she slowly opened the bedroom door and peered out. There was nobody there. She knew that she had to make this quick. The lord of the house had one place he didn’t allow anyone to go, the west wing, and she knew that if she could make it to the west wing without anyone noticing, she would have all the information she needed. Earlier that evening, she had traded places with her colleague. He’d gotten them into the castle, and now it was her turn. Together, they had finally infiltrated his lair, and they were going to finish the job they’d started when they’d moved to this poor provincial town.

By morning, she would be able to report back with insight into how he lived, alone in that beautiful castle with nobody to share it with. But first, she couldn’t get caught.

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