Mirabelle's eyes darted to the door as it creaked and torchlight surged into the dark library. The King, in all his infamy, entered the library with a glance and nod to the guard. The door was locked behind him after a brief moment, and the king looked to the library that was once again plunged into darkness. Within the encompassing shadows, a lone candle burned in the reading area. Mirabelle watched closely with a sentry's gaze as the King approached the candle. He glanced around, also searching for his mysterious guest. The Nightingale was patient as the man's heavy and imposing footsteps struck the rich wooden floor. Inside, Mirabelle was all too eager for the elusive agent to reveal their person to both the King and her. The man paused before the table, not daring to take a seat, but instead he searched the shadows.

Mirabelle edged a little closer when the King stopped and looked down at the table. He then picked up what looked like a note from beneath the plate and made a quick glance around. In her head, Mirabelle's warning bells were ringing loud and clear, but she hesitated with a stubborn certainty the agent would reveal their person.

The King read the note, and nothing seemed to happen as Mirabelle imagined. She thought that perhaps, in a surprise turn of events, it was a effortless assassination. But the King simply lowered the note to his side, before scrunching it in his fist. There was an air of annoyance about him, and Mirabelle decided it was time to move. 
[B]"Guards! Guards! There is an intruder!"[/B] Damien bellowed for his security. His guards were roused and summoned to their lord, as they made their way to the library. The second floor was also closed in on, as the few guards on duty coordinated to trap the intruder. Mirabelle looked scornfully upon this, scowling internally at the smirk of satisfaction on the King's face at the sight of well-trained guards. 

It was clear that she had her work cut out for her if she was to escape without being discovered, neither as Nightingale nor rogue. Mirabelle had to do what she did best: Disappear. She darted quickly as the torchlights flooded the room, one by one. The fiery illumination snapped at her heels like silently relentless dogs voiced only by the shouts of the guards. Mirabelle ran for the only place they could not enter from, realistically...

The window. 

Mirabelle grabbed her bottled smoke at the last few feet and smashed it on the floor before leaping at the large window. She smashed through and held agilely onto the window frame as it swung open violently. The bottled smoke did it's work to obscure the guards' line of sight for the moment. This gave Mirabelle the few seconds she needed to make her ascent safely and carefully, if you could apply that word, as possible. She wasted not even a shred of a second as she launched herself up, feet on the frame and grabbed at the stones of the castle exterior. In this escape plan, her life depended on a Nightingale's legendary agility. Even after so many times similar yet paling in comparison to this moment, Mirabelle's heart pounded from the adrenaline of climbing. She needed to move quickly, as in the next few moments the guards would poke their heads through the window to search for her. Then in the next moment after, they would look up and see where she is going. She had to lose them here and then.

Another stone grabbed, the next--
Fell away at her grip! In shock and surprise, only a moment away from her literal window of escape. She watched as the loose stone that signified a precious moment wasted fell before her, and she groaned in shock as she was pulled down by force of fall. She was only saved by her left hand. With a silent prayer fulfilled, she saw the stone fall without the guards poking their heads out. It was if not by a close bare second between them not noticing it, and the undesirable situation of the stone knocking one of them out which would result in the other looking up. Mirabelle took this chance and recovered her desperate climb. She grabbed at any stone, knowing that it did not matter if one stone or the other was just as loose as that other one. It was now to escape, or never to live. 

Triumph was in her grasp in the form of the windowsill. She pulled herself up as the guards looked into the castle grounds and around for a moment, before looking up. It was hopefully the last of close calls, as Mirabelle had pressed fatefully up against the window in that instant. When she heard the guards grumble, she checked the floor the window was on, and then entered quietly when she was certain there was none to detect her. She followed her usual pattern and shut the windows behind her, before making her way to her quarters to change dress and quickly take up the guise of the innocent songstress once more.