The Anari

by Adrianna J Tetnowski

  Ariadna’s boots tapped against the polished stone floor as she marched past the others inside, her silver hair flowing behind her. What she wanted more than anything was to just pack her bags and leave the institute, to deal with her own victims whom she needed to get her own personal revenge on. There was her father, her sister and maybe even the entire Convent of priestesses living in Aphur who had made her life hell.

  Above her, a heavy chandelier cast colourful specks of candlelight across the floor and up the pillars lining the grand hall of the institute. Expensive grey rugs had been strewn across the floor of the seating areas, complementing the sofas on which assassins and thieves alike sat on. It was strange, to see the men who called themselves murderers and cheats laughing and joking around with their brothers-in-arms, like normal citizens who earned an honest living. But these men were far from honest and Ariadna was no better than any of them.

  “Whatever you have left to say, tell me later.” Ari called out to Vinn as he followed her still, down the corridor to where her bedroom was. She sent the door to her room slamming in Vinn’s face, causing him to retreat a few steps back. Ariadna locked the door quickly before Vinn had the chance to enter. Leaning her head against the frame of her door, Ariadna gathered her thoughts into one and flailed her arms about in one angry fit.

  A note on her oak desk caught the girl’s eye, and she tossed her gloves down beside it before grabbing the piece of paper to read it. The message was simple, meditate. Ariadna scrunched the paper up in one hand and dropped it back down onto her desk. “Oberon.” she muttered.

  Oberon Nhibrai was the eldest of the inhabitants within the institute, with thirty-two years to his name – anyone who had been older was already dead and buried, not from old age but, rather from missions gone awry that had cost them their lives. Betrayal always came at a terrible price. Everyone had thought Oberon would take over the role as Head of the Institute before Vinn but, he had not wanted it. Oberon was modest like that. He believed he was not leader material and that such a responsibility should go to someone who wanted the role enough.

  There came a knock at the door.

  “Fuck off.” Ariadna yelled out as a way of greeting. She busied herself with clearing away all the crap she had lying around on her desk; a task which she was notoriously good at putting off.

  The knock came again moments later.

  Ariadna tightened her grip on the pile of papers she held in her hand and blew a strand of silver hair out of her face.

  “I said-,” she began.

  “Young Miss Vikander, I had heard you the first time. Open this door, damn you.” Oberon’s voice made its way past the wooden barrier of the bedroom door.

  Ariadna gathered the scrunched-up note in her hand again and rushed to unlock the door. As soon as she pulled it open, the note went flying towards Obe’s face and he closed his eyes in time to avoid a near potential paper cut to his eye.

  “I see you’re in a fine mood today.” Oberon remarked. He let himself inside and closed the door behind him.

  Ariadna jumped onto her bed and crossed her legs over.

  “Every time you try to get me to do anything spiritual or religious, I feel like gauging your eyes out. Do you know that?” she asked him.

  Oberon laughed at that and joined her on the bed.

  “No. You change your threats every time you make them, so this is new. I will hazard a guess and say you had tortured yourself with another viewing of the procession of priestesses?” he replied.

  A long pause from Ariadna was answer enough.

  “Why don’t you join the rest of us for dinner tonight, seeing as you never do? It will get your mind off the priestesses you seem to obsess over so much.” Oberon said.

  Ariadna rolled over onto her stomach and buried her face into her cover a moment, moaning into it in response. She lifted her head to look back at Oberon.

  “I’d rather scorch my face in a fire than sit with any of those men downstairs. They’re all as dull and unappealing as the virgin priestesses themselves.” she said with a childish huff and then dropped back down onto the bed.

  Oberon ruffled Ari’s hair just to annoy her more. “Dinner will be at seven today. I hope I’ll see you then.” having said all he needed to, he left Ari to brood in private some more.

  Once he had left, Ariadna made life difficult for herself by attempting to remove the leather jacket she wore over her fighting gear whilst laying down. She rolled from one side, freed one arm and then rolled over to free the other. Ari was in one of her lazy, angry moods. She didn’t want to do anything other than stay in bed with a tray of fine food at her fingertips and the company of a few candles. Maybe even a handsome young gentleman too, who did not live in the same building as her.

  Ariadna’s sexual appetite after breaking her oath of celibacy at fifteen did not go down well with the Sisters at the Convent in Aphur. They had wanted to stone Ari to death for her ‘mortal sin’ and they would have, had Ariadna not been capable enough of plotting a successful grand escape all by herself.

  The assassin threw her leather jacket aside and raised her hands towards her head, hoping to remove the rest of her clothes laying down. She spied the small marking on her right wrist and froze at the sight of it. The marking had meant nothing to Ari, it looked like a random circle with squiggles which carried no significance. She stared at it in silence.

  “Fucking Sisters of Aphur. Bloody idiots, in their stupid robes and with their stupid markings.” she eventually whispered under her breath.

  The Sisters at the Convent of Aphur had marked her when she was ten years old, symbolising her ‘great’ achievement of becoming a sister after three years of training–she was expected to remain a virgin priestess for as long as she lived. The excitement which had emanated off the elders had not met its match in Ariadna and she had hated the next five years that had followed being marked.

  Ariadna had only felt at home after coming across The Anari and their formidable Institute. She felt that here, at least the burning anger and hate she felt for all those who had wronged her now had a place somewhere. Ariadna had won her way into the institute, with a little luck and a lot of charm. Now, at twenty years old, Ariadna had realised her bargain with Vinn had come at an unfair price.

  The Anari had never had a woman in their midst, not because they did not agree with a female assassin or thief but, because no woman had ever dared to step out of her way and approach them. Until a scrawny, fifteen-year-old Ariadna had appeared on their doorstep.

  Vinn had agreed to let Ari join The Anari, only because he could tell how much of a keen interest she had in the art of combat and other forms of insanity like weaponry and Warcraft. So Ari had thought.

  Once she had turned sixteen; that was when Ariadna had to uphold the other half of her agreement with Vinn. It had never been a secret that Ari was a beautiful young thing and Vinn had been attracted to the woman she had become and her new air of confidence. To remain a part of The Anari, Ariadna had to spread her legs for Vinn whenever he wanted with no complaints.

  However, Ariadna over the years had sneaked her way around the agreement and, on occasions, got away with not being used by Vinn to his heart’s content. That did not mean Ari did not like sleeping with Vinn. In fact, the nights he called her to his bed, Ariadna felt excited to do what the Sisters had wanted to condemn her for without the fear of punishment.

  Ariadna had been no stranger to sex and, whilst she did not love Vinn, nor did she believe him to love her either, Ari never felt freer than when in his bed, especially since there was never anyone standing over her and judging her for having control of her own body. She was her own person and Vinn accepted that, despite his constant desire for her. Ari gave the mark on her wrist a final glance and then rose from her bed to find Vinn.

  4 –

  Vinn

  “I’m glad you came this time around. The last time I had called for you, you didn’t bother to show up. I have a place for you in my hea
rt, Ari but, that doesn’t mean I won’t punish you for disrespectful behaviour towards the head of this Institute.” was the first thing Vinn said to Ari as she entered his office without even knocking.

  Ariadna made her way around the desk and dropped herself into Vinn’s lap. She smiled at the feel of him jerking between his legs as she pressed herself against him. Ari sighed dramatically.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “For you to get off my lap, before I end up taking you on this desk right this moment.” Vinn replied and sent a slap against Ari’s buttocks as she swung herself up onto his desk instead.

  Ariadna loved to tease Vinn whenever she could. She spread her legs a little wider and raised a brow at her superior. Vinn pulled his chair closer to his desk and placed his hands onto Ari’s hips.

  “If you’re looking for an apology from me, for having been careless and for walking away from you earlier, you’re not getting one.” Ari said when Vinn remained silent. She snapped her legs shut, making Vinn jump a little at her abruptness. Vinn rose from his seat and ran his hands under the black tunic Ari wore instead.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to. Need I remind you of the reason you could stay in this institute, not only because of the kindness I had shown you. You’re a splendid assassin, Ariadna, I just need you to stay alive for as long as possible.” he said.

  Ariadna pushed him away when he got too close. “Because you think it would be a shame to lose such a ‘fine’ assassin, or because you would hate to lose your personal whore?” she asked.

  Vinn gave her a laugh which made Ariadna’s toes curl, despite its meaning.

  “I have no problem sleeping with you, Vinn. In fact, I enjoy it – when you’re not being an arsehole, that is. You need not remind me again. I’ve been upholding the rest of my agreement with you for four years now, do you trust me that little? I’m offended.” Ariadna snapped.

  Vinn pressed a kiss against her lips, hard enough to make her moan, all whilst his hands roamed up Ari’s tunic, to her naked back where he held her there. Ariadna rolled her tongue around the inside of Vinn’s mouth and she felt him squeeze her in response. His beard tickled her skin as he brushed his chin against hers.

  “I have a contract for you.” Vinn explained, once they both pulled away to catch their breath. “But for now, I’m expecting you at dinner. You’ve been avoiding the rest of us like the plague and I don’t think it’s fair on your brothers-in-arms to receive this kind of treatment from you.”

  Ariadna pulled away again to laugh. “I’m sorry, are you worried that I’m hurting their feelings? Oh, Vinn, they’re grown men. I don’t think they care about my opinions of them. They don’t seem to have been bothered by me for the last five years already.”

  It was Vinn’s turn to raise a brow. “Tell me again what you think of me.” he said.

  Ariadna shook her head.

  “You know what I think of you,” she began.

  Vinn kissed her throat this time, slow and steady, down to Ariadna’s breasts where he unbuttoned the top half of her tunic and helped himself there.

  Ari suppressed a moan as she hooked her legs around Vinn’s waist. She had never been sure who was hungrier for whom, or if they both just had the same amount of desire for each other building up inside them, until that chord keeping them together snapped and they were on each other before they could fully comprehend what was happening.

  But it was not love between them. Their relationship was purely sexual, behind closed doors at least. Vinn had made sure of it because, just like Ariadna, he did not believe in love. He was a man who knew what he wanted.

  “Wear a dress for dinner tonight. Something pretty.” Vinn instructed.

  Ariadna pressed her knee against his stomach and nudged him back, hard enough to send Vinn collapsing into his chair. One glance at the mark on her wrist again had her failing to hear what he had even said to her. Ariadna placed a hand over the inked symbol as it brought back a flood of unwanted memories again.

  “Ari.” Vinn began. He ran both hands through his dark hair. “I’ve told you so many times, we can get that marking covered up with something else. Do you enjoy torturing yourself with memories of your past?”

  Ariadna looked down at the ground. She appeared ashamed with herself. “It reminds me why I joined The Anari in the first place.” she replied. Ariadna Vikander was a bitter young woman. She loathed her past and wanted nothing more than to bury whatever family she had left into the ground. Ari had promised to make amends with herself, with the child she had once been and had long ago grown out of. Whoever had shunned or dishonoured her in the past, she would send them face down into the dirt where they belonged.

  This was what she had been training for. The contracts over the years, they had meant nothing to Ariadna. She had completed them and completed them well and as instructed but, what she had been preparing herself for over the years was picking off everyone who had hurt her in any way one by one, like flies.

  The only problem Ariadna now faced was she was growing impatient. Vinn was screwing her over, not giving her the time to tick off the people on her own list and the longer he kept Ariadna from going about her own business, the longer those bastards lived.

  “We’ll talk about my list tomorrow.” Ariadna said. It was not up for discussion.

  Vinn tilted his head back and laughed. “Very well, Boss.” he replied.

  Ariadna slid off the edge of the desk and took hold of Vinn’s face as she kissed him again. When she drew away, she said with a half-smile, “You’re so fucking annoying.” and then left the room before Vinn could detain her again with a kiss of his own.

  5 –

  Preeya

  Silent prayer within the Convent of Atimae took place between the hours of seven to nine in the morning, twelve to one in the afternoon and four to six in the evening. After which, dinner was always served at seven o’clock sharp. The routine within the Convent had never been up for discussion and during the time the young priestess had in between their silent prayers, they were free to go about their own business–completing the daily chores in the kitchen, managing the ancient library tucked away deep underground or tending to the garden behind the pristine white building in which the priestess’ lived.

  Preeya’s hands were still sore from having sat for two hours peeling potatoes for dinner the other day and pink marks from where she held the knife were still etched into her skin. She was supposed to be in silent prayer with the other women. Instead, the young priestess sat by her bedroom window with her elbows propped up against the sill, admiring the wonderful commotion of the city below.

  It was still very early evening and already some city folk below were giddy with wine as they ventured towards a random pub of their choosing; or were off to meet a handful of friends beforehand.

  Preeya watched in a dreamy haze as young women, dressed up in fine colourful silks, strolled around with the drunken men and steadied their gentlemen friends whenever they almost fell face first into the dirt. Even from where she sat, Preeya heard the women giggle and she let out a little sigh as she spied one man scooping a girl in yellow silks into his arms and giving her a full-forced kiss. A group of gentlemen were with their escorts on a night out, nothing more.

  As a virgin priestess, Preeya was forbidden to engage in any kind of vanity or sexual activity, down to even exploring herself with her own hand. Such behaviour of any kind was deemed a mortal sin, even discussing it was shameful. The priestesses were married to the gods and to cheat them was a call for corporal punishment – death by stoning, that was the most popular of choices.

  Preeya felt ashamed whenever she admired herself a little too long in the single mirror within her room, which she shared with three other girls. She had turned sixteen not that long ago, and she wanted to be seen as a woman now. She was a woman full grown, and she believed she had been since she had started bleeding nearly four years ago.

  Preeya Atanna was a pretty young girl, her olive
skin paled from years of being hidden under veils or within the Convent. Forbidden to cut her hair, her brown curls now swung down to her thighs and her thick baby hairs framed her soft features and dainty green eyes.

  The drunken men and the lovely ladies in silk had disappeared by now, leaving the streets silent for a moment. There was nothing else worth gazing at down below.

  Preeya shied away from the windowsill and pressed herself against the wall behind her, the white silk of her robe creasing. It would have to be a mighty stroke of luck but, Preeya wished she could see the hooded woman she had dared to lay eyes on earlier that day. She felt ridiculous parading through the city streets every week like some prized cattle but, each time Preeya visited the temple she was there.

  The woman’s face was concealed by a hood each time, covered in leather down to her hands so Preeya could not even tell the colour of her skin. But her small waist and ample breasts were clear enough for Preeya to know it was a woman.

  Whilst the rest of the citizens who gathered to watch the virgin priestesses pass by were filled with awe and adoration at the group of young women, the hooded figure stood with visible anger in her stance; the way her feet seemed to dig into the ground beneath her as though to stop herself from charging at the priestesses and cutting them down.

  The woman’s fists clenching and unclenching by her sides, even brushing up to where a sword appeared to be strapped to her side. But she never advanced any further than the other citizens. It was as though some moral dilemma was holding her back.

  Preeya had thought the woman was just a simple sell sword at first. Only after an hour of intense consideration, Preeya argued with herself that female sell swords were uncommon, near non-existent even. She used her hours of silent prayer to ponder through a reasonable identity she could give the young woman. Until she could not believe it.

  Ariadna Vikander, protected treasure of The Anari and disgraced sister of the Aphur Convent, was in this very city! She was living in Atimae.