The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams)

by Jones, Kirsten

  ‘What is it?’ he demanded anxiously.

  ‘I – I don’t really know how to explain it –’

  ‘Try,’ he urged, gently wiping the tears from her face with his fingertips.

  ‘I just want to be with you so much that sometimes I almost can’t bear it.’

  Fabian sighed and held her tightly, ‘I know, I know,’ he murmured soothingly into her hair. ‘But this isn’t how our lives are always going to be. You have my word on that.’

  ‘But how can I have?’ Mistral demanded, turning her tear-streaked face up to gaze imploringly at him. ‘What if I don’t master the Sight this year … or next … or never! Will we stay like this forever?’

  ‘No.’ Fabian’s eyes burned into hers with a startling intensity. ‘I promised Leo a year. No more.’

  Mistral gazed back at him for a long moment before nodding miserably, ‘A year then.’

  ‘It may be less Mistral.’

  ‘Oh, I hope so,’ Mistral sighed heavily and laid her head against his chest.

  ‘Would you like to go home now?’ he murmured, dropping the ghost of a kiss on the top of her head.

  ‘Yes please.’

  They rode out of the Valley side by side. Both horses were excited by the snow and pulled strongly against their riders. Fabian’s bright palomino dancing skittishly through the powdery snow while she kept pace with Cirrus’ long strides. As Fabian had predicted, the snow lay less thickly over the wide meadows than in the Valley and there was little or no snowfall to speak of on the trail through the forests. Before the middle of the afternoon they were riding into the small courtyard outside their home.

  ‘It’s too late to hunt today.’ Fabian decided as he led Spirit into the stables. ‘We’ll go out tomorrow, we can head north if you wish and go further; make a day of it.’

  ‘Sounds good.’ Mistral leapt from Cirrus and led him into a stall next to Spirit. ‘We might run into some wolves!’

  ‘That reminds me. Did I tell you that I found the remains of the last four Blackheart Wolverines when I was hunting a couple of weeks ago?’ Fabian called from Spirit’s stall. ‘The poisoned bolts finished them off in the end.’

  ‘No! So the twins actually managed to kill something did they?’

  Fabian leaned over to speak with her while she pulled a rug over Cirrus, ‘Mistral, be more generous towards your brothers; they care for you more than you know.’

  ‘Oh Phantasm’s alright … but Phantom!’ she exclaimed with an angry shake of her head.

  ‘You must understand how frustrating he finds your attitude towards your gift.’ Fabian continued. ‘He cannot comprehend that you would willingly throw it away just to be with me.’

  ‘I would you know.’ she suddenly turned to face him over the wooden partition between the stalls. ‘I’d give it all up, right here and now, if it meant I could be with you.’

  He leaned over and kissed her gently, ‘Then it’s fortunate that I have considerably more restraint than you.’

  ‘Unfortunate more like.’ Mistral muttered and finished buckling the leather straps on Cirrus’ rug.

  Fabian laughed, ‘Come on, let’s get something to eat,’ he turned and walked to the doorway of the stables, waiting for her as she gave Cirrus a final pat and walked over to take his outstretched hand.

  ‘Then there’s something I have to tell in a bit,’ Mistral sighed while they walked across the snow-covered courtyard towards the steps leading up to the front door.

  Fabian nodded but didn’t comment and they walked up the steps together in silence.

  ‘You know,’ he murmured while he unlocked the door to the house and opened it wide, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever traditionally carried you over the threshold of our home have I?’

  Mistral laughed as Fabian swept her up and carried her into the house. Kicking the door shut behind him he walked over to place her down on the sofa. Mistral sank back against the cushions and gazed happily out of the long glass-fronted doors leading onto the balcony. She never tired of the stunning view of thickly wooded slopes rising steeply to meet the sweeping grandeur of the snow-capped Western Range, their distant peaks lost in wreaths of heavy white cloud.

  ‘I’ll make us something to eat,’ she offered, leaping lightly from the sofa and heading to the small kitchen at the back of the room while Fabian lit the iron stove.

  ‘There’s some cold meat in the larder,’ Fabian called, feeding logs into the brightly burning flames.

  Mistral moved around the kitchen, the simple domestic task of preparing a meal for them filling her with a happiness that obliterated her earlier misery. She watched Fabian stoke the fire then set the poker down and move across the room to the dresser. He moved like a hunting panther, lean and dark. There was grace in his motion yet something powerful and inherently dangerous too. Mistral almost wished the shiver she felt was one of fear, but it was quite the opposite and a year was fast becoming a life sentence.

  She returned to the sofa bearing two plates of cold meat and bread, placing them on the low table as Fabian carried over a flagon of wine and two cups from dresser.

  ‘Now,’ said Fabian, dropping down onto the sofa and stretching out his long legs. ‘Why don’t you come and sit with me and tell me what it is that’s bothering you.’

  He opened his arms and smiled at her, inviting her to join him. Mistral didn’t need asking twice, sliding happily into his arms and curling up against him with a sigh of satisfaction. She didn’t speak immediately but listened instead to the peaceful sound of the crackling fire and the steady rhythm of Fabian’s heartbeats, prolonging the moment of happiness before she had to ruin it all with the confession she knew she had to make.

  ‘Promise you won’t be angry with me,’ she began, glancing quickly up to see his velvet eyes gazing patiently back.

  ‘I can’t promise not to be perpetually astounded by your wilful and impetuous nature however I will try to restrain my anger,’ he confirmed with a smile.

  Mistral drew in a deep breath, ‘Well, the twins were going on and on about Malachi having vampire blood and Phantom asked me to read Malachi’s aura –’ she hesitated and looked up quickly but was reassured to see that he merely looked amused by the news that she had been prying on the hidden emotions of a member of the Magnate … or trying to pry.

  ‘What did you see?’ he prompted.

  ‘Nothing,’ she frowned. ‘I tried twice and both times I just saw the vague outline of his aura and then it vanished. I thought I was losing my ability, so I read Phantom and it was fine ... so I just can’t understand why I couldn’t read Malachi.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think it was you that couldn’t read his aura,’ murmured Fabian, stroking her hair gently. ‘Malachi knows what gift you have and he probably expected you to try and read him. He was hiding his aura from you … and that is very interesting.’

  ‘But how can he do that?’ Mistral asked, looking perplexed. ‘I know he’s got Mage blood but the Craft doesn’t pass to half-breeds does it?’

  ‘No, and anyway, there are no spells that can prevent your gift; that’s why Seers are so highly valued. I think it is more likely to be a trait he has inherited from his father’s side.’

  ‘The vampire? Do they have power then?’

  ‘Yes, not in the same league as having the Craft though, or I’m sure Eximius would be constantly waging war with them for control of the Isle. However, they are a race of beings utterly convinced of their own superiority and as such find living under the rule of a Mage quite hard to take. They suffer it because the only other option is to live in the outside world, which many of their kind do of course, but due to the nature of their hunger they are forced to live a nomadic existence. The tribe that live on the Isle reluctantly abide by the laws Eximius has put in place to govern their appetites because they grew tired of constantly moving from place to place.’

  Mistral shuddered and Fabian pulled her tighter against him.

  ‘The tribe live in the north of the
Isle Mistral. They are forbidden from hunting anything other than the same sorts of creatures that you and I do. You are safe here.’

  ‘I’m not frightened,’ said Mistral, looking up at him with a frown. ‘It’s just a bit revolting.’

  Fabian laughed softly, ‘Of course you aren’t frightened by the prospect of something draining the blood from your still living body, only by the concept. How foolish of me.’

  ‘They can be killed can’t they?’ Mistral asked matter of factly.

  ‘Of course, nothing is invincible.’

  ‘Then there’s nothing to be afraid of is there?’

  ‘Very practical; which is why you are by far the best apprentice in my group,’ he murmured, picking up one of her hands and stroking his fingers lightly down the palm.

  Mistral sighed. The subject of her second year was not one she enjoyed discussing however it did remind her of something she had been meaning to ask Fabian for a while.

  ‘Why did you stay for a second year’s apprenticeship?’ Mistral asked, sitting up and turning to face him.

  ‘Well, firstly because I was invited and it’s rude to refuse,’ Fabian teased, leaning forward to collect one of the plates of food from the table and placing it on his lap.

  Mistral laughed and took a piece of cold ham from the plate, ‘But why did you? Really, I mean. I would’ve thought that you hated the idea of owing the Ri two years of your life after you’d finished training.’

  ‘Oh I did,’ Fabian agreed lightly. ‘And I resented the Magnate for it … probably still do actually, and I was under no illusion that they invited me to stay because I was an exceptional warrior –’

  ‘But you are! I could watch you drill swords all day long,’ she blurted and promptly reddened.

  ‘Thank you.’ Fabian smiled, more at her blush than her words. ‘But I fear you may be a touch biased when it comes to my abilities. No, I am sure they invited me to stay for a second year because they were taken with the notion of having a tame Mage in their ranks. However, as I never embraced the Craft they were sadly disappointed and I spent a year improving my skills at their expense.’

  Mistral laughed, ‘It’s good to hear of someone getting something out of the Ri for a change.’

  Fabian broke a piece of bread and passed her half, chewing on his thoughtfully for a moment before he replied, ‘I know that you feel that the Ri are your gaolers Mistral, but for most the Ri provide an opportunity to escape the outcast lives they would have otherwise been forced to lead.’

  ‘I know, Leo said as much at our Registration. I can see the good they do, but I suppose I’m in the slightly unusual position of them needing me more than I need them; and you’re right – I do feel like the Ri are my gaolers, well Leo anyway. Do you realise that I haven’t had any Contracts other than a couple of simple hunts this year?’

  Fabian nodded vaguely and picked up a chicken leg, examining with more interest than it warranted.

  ‘Fabian. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that would you?’ Mistral asked, spearing him with a hard look.

  Fabian sighed and placed the chicken leg back onto the plate before turning to meet her cold stare, his black eyes suddenly guilty, ‘I may have spoken with Leo at the start of the year.’

  Mistral raised an eyebrow and continued to glare at him, ‘Oh?’

  ‘I just want to protect you Mistral! Is that so hard to understand?’ Fabian sighed exasperatedly. ‘Second year Contracts can be very dangerous to say the least. I can remember being made to take two mercenary Contracts in a row. Half of the warriors didn’t make it back from the second one – it was a massacre!’

  ‘Are you trying to make me jealous?’ Mistral snapped. ‘Because I really don’t want to hear about your daring exploits whilst you’re trying to bore me to death with damned knucker hunts and basic tracking that a first year could do blindfold!’

  ‘I’m not sure this lot could.’ Fabian commented drily.

  ‘Don’t try to change the subject! What happens when I eventually finish training and have to work for the Ri for two years? You can’t vet the Contracts I have to take then can you?’

  ‘No.’ Fabian met her angry gaze cautiously. ‘But I can come with you.’

  Mistral stared at him, instantly torn between the desire to be furious at his overprotectiveness and the swoop of sheer joy the thought of working with him evoked.

  Reading the expression on her face Fabian smiled and she immediately scowled.

  ‘Oh don’t think that you’re off the hook that easily De Winter,’ she warned. ‘I’m not happy about this!’

  ‘Perhaps the offer to accompany me on my next Contract would appease you?’ he offered and put the plate back on the table to take her in his arms once again.

  ‘You still take Contracts?’ Mistral asked, looking up at him in surprise.

  ‘How else do you expect me to keep you in the manner to which you have become accustomed? Or did you think that I should have retired by now?’

  ‘No!’ Mistral laughed and laid her head back against his shoulder. ‘I just assumed that because of your place at the Council you wouldn’t take any Contracts, in case of a clash of conflicts or something.’

  Fabian smiled and stroked her hair idly, ‘I take the occasional Contract that interests me. Leo and I have worked together on a few mercenary Contracts ... but, you are correct, I have to be careful not to take anything that would clash with my Council obligations.’

  ‘So you’ve not accepted a Contract to assassinate Count Putreo Darke then?’ Mistral ventured lightly but failed to hide the edge that had crept in when she said the word “assassinate”.

  ‘No, more’s the pity.’ Fabian muttered darkly then sighed. ‘But in answer to the question you really wanted to ask me; no, I no longer accept assassinations. That part of my life is over.’

  Mistral tilted her head to see him gazing down at her with a sad expression on his face. She frowned, ‘What’s troubling you Fabian? If it’s your past then don’t waste time on it. You know I don’t care –’

  ‘I know,’ he cut her off with a sigh. ‘My past is behind me, but your future lies ahead of us and I don’t know how I will feel about you taking Contracts of that nature.’

  ‘I have no interest in assassination Contracts.’ Mistral stated quietly. ‘I thought that the idea of them wouldn’t bother me, but it turns out that it does. Phantom once said something on the subject to me that actually didn’t irritate me … in fact, it that made me realise how I felt.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Hmm, he said that the more he learned how to take a life the more he valued its continuation and for once, I have to say that I agree with him.’

  ‘The twins have old heads on young shoulders.’ Fabian murmured. ‘I value their good influence on you.’

  Mistral snorted, ‘Like getting me marked for death by elves and encouraging me to read a member of the Magnate’s aura you mean?’

  ‘I admit they have had the occasional failure, but on the whole they do try to keep you on the straight and narrow.’

  ‘I knew it!’ Mistral cried, sitting up and glaring at him furiously. ‘You’ve got to them as well haven’t you?’

  ‘I confess that I may have spoken with them too. Please will you accept my abject apologies for loving you and trying to keep you alive?’ Fabian released her to hold his hands up in mock surrender.

  Mistral glared into the imploring black velvet of his eyes and fought very hard to remain angry with him. And failed.

  ‘Oh for crying out loud!’ she exhaled the angry breath she had been holding. ‘How can I ever be expected to be angry with you for any length of time when you look at me like that?’

  Fabian suddenly bent and kissed her angrily pouting mouth until she gave in and kissed him back.

  ‘You’re not forgiven yet,’ she muttered, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

  ‘And what can I do to win back my place in your affections?’ he murmured, trailing a finger down her chee
k.

  ‘Three things actually,’ she said, fighting the urge to close her eyes with pleasure at his touch.

  ‘Name them,’ he breathed.

  ‘You will stay with me in our bed tonight.’

  Fabian sighed heavily, ‘And?’

  ‘You promise to take me on your next Contract, no matter what it entails.’

  ‘I promise. However, you must be patient as I won’t take any work until my commitments as Training Lieutenant have ended.’

  ‘Fine, I’m sure that’ll come round too quickly anyway. And one last thing –’

  ‘Anything you desire.’ Fabian growled, stroking his finger slowly down her neck to rest in the hollow of her throat.

  ‘We both know that you’re lying now. However, you will let me paste Ezra on Monday for interrupting us today,’ she finished firmly.

  Fabian smiled, ‘Sorry Mistral, but no. That would be terribly unprofessional of me.’

  ‘Damn.’ Mistral swore softly. ‘And I was doing so well.’

  ‘And now –’

  Fabian’s black gaze burned into hers with a breathtaking intensity that never failed to render her powerless to look away, or talk, or breathe.

  ‘– I think you owe me a small explanation as to how you passed the long winter days in Nevelte.’

  ‘Oh double damn.’ Mistral groaned. ‘I was so hoping that you had forgotten about that.’

  Prospero

  January’s snowfalls gave way to February’s sudden violent downpours that soaked all the apprentices to the skin in seconds and turned the Training Arena to churned mud. It was a Tuesday lunchtime and Mistral and Fabian were eating together in The Cloak and Dagger. The tavern was unusually quiet since all of the first years were spending the day working in the Infirmary. Apart from a couple of warriors arguing over a Contract at the bar they were the only occupants.

  Mistral sighed and picked distractedly at her food, watching Fabian from across the table while he ate. Eventually she sighed and pushed the plate of food away.

  Fabian lifted his goblet to take a drink and noticed her untouched food, ‘Why aren’t you eating?’