The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams)

by Jones, Kirsten

  ‘Rabbit it is then.’ Phantom sighed then leaned closer to hiss in Mistral’s ear. ‘Xerxes is in agony! I think you might have to take pity on him sister!’

  ‘Sister?’ Mistral laughed and reached into her saddlebag for her medical kit. ‘Bad choice of words brother. I think he might be a bit sensitive about sisters at the moment.’

  ‘Good point. Appeal to his manly side Mistral. He’s got a lot of pride and it’s been sorely dented.’

  ‘And I should feel bad about that?’

  Phantom scowled, ‘Just fix him Mistral. He’s boring like this.’

  By the time Mistral had persuaded Xerxes to admit the true nature of his injuries all of the warriors had returned and the mound of prey had grown considerably, along with the audience watching her treat him.

  ‘Is that an “L” or an “I”?’ Mistral asked curiously while she daubed ointment onto his back, smiling to herself at the outbreak of sniggering from Brutus and Cain.

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t read it either. And I still don’t know which sister it was,’ Xerxes muttered, looking slightly shamefaced.

  ‘Never mind, I don’t think it will scar. All done!’ Mistral said brightly and patted him on the back.

  ‘Ow!’

  ‘Sorry brother. Momentary lapse of concentration.’

  ‘I know all about that.’ Xerxes said glumly and pulled his shirt back on.

  Mistral sighed sympathetically, trying to salve his sore male pride as Phantom had instructed, ‘Well I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson.’

  ‘Yes, I’m only going to date girls that can’t write from now on.’

  ‘That’s the spirit brother.’

  They ate roasted rabbit and argued loudly over who would hunt what to complete the long list on the Contract. Mistral listened to their noisy banter with a smile. She was having a good day, and as she gazed out across the meadow to see a bright gold palomino cantering towards them it suddenly became a great day.

  The following Saturday found Mistral running up the stairs to the dorms with a Contract for the twins clutched in her hand. Gleacher had just offered it to her but it was nothing that would interest her. She had actually been quite surprised that he had even considered her for the work, even more so when he suggested that she take the Contract up to the twins and offer it to them instead, stating that he had an urgent matter to attend to and didn’t have time himself. Gleacher was definitely behaving oddly. Mistral was convinced he must have upset Cain in some way and the sly hob was slipping the Contracts Officer something in his tankard to make him more amenable.

  If the truth be told Mistral didn’t really mind being a messenger for Gleacher. She was bored with trying to read beyond Serenity’s aura and wanted an excuse to see if the twins wanted to skive training to go hunting. The week had been both long and dull and she need something to cheer her up. After the pleasure of escaping the Valley on the mammoth hunt of the previous Saturday then spending all of Sunday with Fabian, Monday morning had been a bleak shock. Fabian had left on more business which he had been strangely reluctant to discuss and her brothers were all out of the Valley on various Contracts, leaving her to continue with her fruitless efforts at trying to master Sight, albeit interspersed with vigorous sword training sessions to relieve the boredom. But even those had turned out to be less than satisfying. For some reason best known to him Leo had taken it upon himself to loom over her like a black cloud of doom whenever she appeared in the Training Arena, preventing her from so much as breaking sweat with his constant correction.

  Mistral strode along the corridor and reached the twins’ room. Not bothering to knock she burst in then abruptly froze.

  ‘Oh! Sorry. Um, I guess I really should learn to knock. You two are obviously having a private moment –’ she blurted and began to back quickly out of the door.

  ‘Stop her!’ Phantasm ordered and Phantom leapt across the room to slam the door, locking it swiftly before Mistral could grab the handle and yank it open.

  ‘And it’s for you, not us!’ Phantom added sharply.

  ‘What the hell do I need that for?’

  Phantom joined his twin, both regarding her with identical frowns.

  ‘Did you really think that you would be getting married in your shirt and trousers?’

  Mistral mouthed wordlessly at him, too astounded by what she was seeing to speak.

  ‘I knew it! You did, didn’t you?’ Phantom exclaimed.

  ‘Just what do you expect me to do with that?’ she demanded, pointing at the dress hanging on the wall.

  ‘Wear it Mistral. It’s a wedding dress. And you’re welcome by the way. You have no idea what I had to do to get Eudora to make it in time.’

  ‘Time for what?’

  Phantasm let out a long breath, ‘Your wedding.’

  ‘But that’s ages away! Fabian didn’t even mention it last weekend!’

  ‘It’s in about two hours actually, so we really need to get you ready.’

  Ignoring Mistral’s stunned look, Phantasm immediately turned to his brother and began issuing orders.

  ‘Take her to the showers and wait outside. There are bars on the outside of those windows, I’ve checked, so she won’t be able to climb out. As soon as she’s done, bring her straight back here and don’t let her leave. I’ll go fetch what we need.’

  Mistral felt Phantom’s hand grip her arm. He wheeled her about and marched her from the room and down the corridor to the bathrooms.

  ‘Don’t make me come in and get you,’ he threatened, shoving her into what had become her private bathroom since there were no other female apprentices that year.

  Mistral staggered through the door and heard Phantom immediately begin tapping his foot impatiently outside the door. She stumbled over to the sink and stared at herself in the mirror. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes huge, the pupils dilated to pools of black. Her wedding was today? Fear exploded inside her with the force of an earthquake. She gripped the sides of the sink, feeling the familiar wave of claustrophobia wash over her. Tearing her gaze away from the frightened face in the mirror Mistral stared wildly around the bare room, noting with a fresh burst of panic that Phantasm was right; the windows were barred on the outside.

  Forcing herself to take a deep breath, Mistral gradually calmed down and began to think rationally. How bad could it really be? A few words … then straight to The Cloak, and of course, Fabian would be there. The thought of her Mage gave her the strength to get undressed and stumble into the shower. For once she was grateful for the icy jets of water that blasted her skin, jolting her mind into working again.

  A few words … then straight to The Cloak, and Fabian will be there …

  The sentence became her mantra while she dried herself and dressed.

  Opening the door of the bathroom she was instantly grabbed by Phantom and propelled back along the corridor.

  ‘What took you so long?’ he complained. ‘I’ve been hanging around the door to your bathroom for ages! People were starting to give me strange looks!’

  Mistral nodded vaguely at him while he pushed her back into their room and forced her into a chair. Phantasm immediately appeared armed with a comb and a pair of scissors.

  ‘Hold her down!’ he ordered when Mistral immediately tried to get up.

  ‘W-what’re you going to do?’ Mistral quavered.

  ‘I’m going to sort that haystack on your head out.’ Phantasm replied briskly.

  ‘He’s been dying to do it for ages actually.’ Phantom added.

  ‘Oh this is awful! When did you last have a haircut?’ Phantasm demanded while he tugged a comb through her long hair.

  ‘Er? A what?’

  ‘You’ve never had one.’ Phantasm said flatly. ‘Well it shows. But why is there a shorter piece here?’

  ‘Swords.’ Mistral muttered distractedly.

  ‘Yes, long hair and swords kept in a back-holster are probably not a good combination.’ Phantasm agreed over the snipping sound of scis
sors.

  Mistral stared in horror at the dress hanging from a hook in the wall while Phantasm combed and snipped. It was pale gold, not white, for which she supposed she should be grateful. The thought of the looks on her brothers’ faces if she’d walked out wearing white didn’t bear thinking about.

  Walked out … Mistral realised with a lurch that she didn’t know where their wedding was being held.

  ‘Where is the –?’ she swallowed drily and Phantom looked at her in exasperation.

  ‘Wedding? You want to know where you are going to be married?’ he suggested helpfully.

  She nodded faintly.

  ‘Well, despite the fact that your Mage is a De Winter and should be having a lavish, two-day ceremony at the Council headquarters,’ Phantom began in a tone that clearly suggested that Mistral and Fabian had robbed him of some special treat, ‘for some reason Mage De Winter thought you wouldn’t want that.’

  Mistral stared at Phantom with a dazed expression. He frowned back, his green eyes critical.

  ‘And I can see why. You’re not coping well are you?’

  She nodded vaguely and Phantom rolled his eyes, ‘Anyway, at the risk of wasting my breath when you’re obviously incapable of thinking, never mind listening, you will be having a small wedding here, in the Valley. Well, in the village square actually,’ he finished with a disdainful sniff.

  ‘Is Fabian here?’ she whispered.

  ‘Somewhere.’ Phantasm muttered distractedly while he towelled her hair vigorously, drying off the last remnants of her shower.

  ‘I think I need to find him!’ she gasped from beneath the towel.

  ‘Not likely!’ Phantom scoffed. ‘You must know it’s bad luck for the bride to see the groom before the wedding.’

  Mistral stared mutely, her blank incomprehension making him realise the true extent of her ignorance.

  He frowned, ‘Have you ever actually been to a wedding Mistral?’

  Mistral blinked, ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Not sure? Didn’t they get married in Nevelte then?’ Phantom persisted, an edge of impatience creeping into his voice. ‘You know the sort of thing. Lots of people watching a bride walk down an aisle towards her groom and recite vows, promising to love and honour and all that type of thing?’

  Mistral continued to stare at him, her expression shifting to one of abject terror.

  ‘Best not to push that one brother, I think it might tip her over the edge.’ Phantasm murmured.

  Mistral felt pressure on her head as Phantasm began to lift her hair and pin it into place.

  ‘What’re you doing?’ she demanded in a brief return to her old self.

  ‘Styling your hair. I know what I’m doing. Our mother had more hairstyles that we’ve had cold showers over the last two years, so just sit still and be quiet. For once in your life you are going to look like a lady not the scruff bag you normally do.’

  ‘Lady?’ she repeated in an incredulous tone.

  ‘You better get used to that. It’s part of the package with Mage De Winter.’ Phantom said casually.

  Mistral looked at him in bewilderment.

  ‘Too much brother.’ Phantasm muttered warningly.

  ‘You don’t know do you?’ Phantom continued in amazement. ‘Mage De Winter inherited his father’s title. He was Lord De Winter; a title your Mage chooses not to use. Anyway, that makes you a Lady. Lady De Winter in fact.’

  ‘Going to be sick!’ Mistral gasped and Phantom instantly produced a bowl and held it in her lap, sighing as she retched over it.

  ‘Glad I thought of that one now,’ he said in a satisfied voice. ‘Knew you’d crack under the strain somehow. Phantasm thought you’d turn violent, but I thought you’d just throw up.’

  ‘Right, I’m done. Now we need to get you in that dress.’ Phantasm stood up and regarded the dress pensively. ‘We can’t leave her in the room alone with it. She’ll never get into it. She’s probably never worn a dress before.’

  ‘But if Mage De Winter ever finds out we’ve seen her without a shirt and trousers on he’ll kill us!’

  ‘Are you a warrior or not? Do you really think he wants his bride to look like that?’ Phantasm jerked a thumb scathingly in Mistral’s direction. ‘We have to do this!’

  ‘Oh, he’s so going to kill us!’ Phantom moaned fearfully.

  ‘No he’s not. Now, Mistral?’ Phantasm turned to speak gently to her, like a parent to a distressed child. ‘Can you please start getting undressed and put that dress on? We will be over here with our backs turned and we’ll help you if you really need us to.’

  Mistral watched them walk over to stand and look out of the small window before slowly turning her gaze to stare at the dress hanging on the wall.

  A wedding dress …

  A wedding …

  The seconds ticked by until Mistral suddenly felt a spark of something flare inside her. This was her wedding day. She was going to marry the man she loved. What exactly was she scared of?

  Only everything.

  Would he be there? Or would she be stood there in front of her brothers on her own? A jilted bride?

  No. Fabian would never do that to her.

  Would she trip over the stupid dress and go flat on her face?

  Probably.

  ‘Damn it.’ Mistral stood up. Unbuttoning her shirt she dropped it to the floor then stepped quickly out of her trousers and reached for the dress. It was made of velvet and felt beautifully soft beneath her fingers. She slid the material through her hands, trying to work out how to wear it. There were no buttons on the front like a shirt. Confused, she turned it around and saw two long ribbons of gold satin lacing up the back. Frowning with concentration she began to unlace it and release the bodice enough for her to step into the dress and pull it up. Sliding her arms through the holes she realised that she couldn’t lace the back up on her own.

  ‘Um, I need some help now,’ she muttered to the twins’ backs.

  Slowly they turned to face her, their hesitant expressions instantly blazing into identical looks of triumph that reminded her so strongly of Fabian that she almost smiled.

  ‘Well! Didn’t we do a good job?’ Phantom declared proudly.

  ‘I think you’ll find the dress was my choice.’ Phantasm retorted crisply.

  ‘No, you wanted white and I said she’d never go for that.’ Phantom argued, walking around the back of Mistral to tug at the ribbons.

  Mistral gasped as he laced the ribbons, ‘It’s a bit tight!’

  ‘It’s a wedding dress Mistral, it’s meant to be. Now, do you want to see what you look like?’

  ‘No!’ she cried automatically. Catching the wounded expressions on their faces, she added more hesitantly, ‘I - I meant … yes … please.’

  ‘Here you are.’

  The twins turned her to face a long mirror propped against the wall.

  Mistral stared silently at the figure in the mirror. She wore a fitted gown of palest gold velvet and looked mockingly familiar but was far more elegant then her own image had ever been. She had glossy hair piled artfully on her head and wide, sparkling eyes. And there was also a frightening amount of skin left on display.

  ‘Where’s the rest of it?’ she asked, pressing a hand to her exposed collar bones.

  ‘That is all of your dress Mistral, it’s meant to look like that.’ Phantasm assured her firmly.

  ‘I can’t go out like this!’ she whispered in a panicked voice, indicating to her exposed arms and frightening amount of cleavage.

  ‘Yes, we are equally surprised by the fact that you have a woman’s body, but, honestly, the overall effect is quite nice. You look very unlike you today.’

  ‘Seriously, pass me my shirt!’

  ‘No chance!’

  ‘She’s getting argumentative. Time to go.’

  ‘Wait! We’re not done yet!’

  Mistral was promptly shoved back onto the chair and held in place by Phantasm while Phantom rooted around under his bed. After some
muttered cursing he finally pulled out a pair of gold satin shoes. Smiling in a way that made her want to hit him, he rammed them unceremoniously onto her feet.

  ‘There. Now you are ready.’

  Mistral stared down at the elegant shoes. They were so fragile she doubted they would survive the walk from the twins’ room, never mind carry her all the way down to the village square.

  ‘Can’t I just wear my boots?’

  The twins glared at her, boot-faced.

  ‘No.’

  Holding her arms in a double grip, the twins escorted her from the room, lifting rather than escorting her along the corridor to the top of the stairs where they halted.

  ‘This could be a bit awkward.’ Phantasm looked dubiously at Mistral, swaying dangerously at the stair top.

  ‘If she’s never worn a dress before there’s no way she can walk downstairs in that one!’

  ‘Here we go again.’ giving a martyred sigh Phantasm swept Mistral into his arms and began to descend the stairs.

  ‘What the hell d’you think you’re doing?’ she demanded in a horrified voice.

  ‘I don’t think Mage De Winter would appreciate you falling down a flight of stone stairs minutes before he is due to marry you, and it would ruin your hair. Now be quiet.’

  When they reached the Entrance Hall Phantasm set Mistral back on her feet. She stared out of the doorway and down the path leading down to the village … to where her wedding ceremony was being held in just a few short minutes...

  ‘Going to be sick again!’ she muttered frantically.

  ‘No you’re not. Look who’s here for you.’ Phantasm said soothingly.

  Mistral stared into the familiar pale blue eyes of her dog, looking unusually clean and being held back from jumping up at her by Brutus.

  ‘I don’t know what you’ve done with Mistral but I think Mage De Winter’s going to be pleased with the replacement!’ Brutus grinned. ‘Here’s your bridesmaid, bathed and brushed by my own fair hand, and he’s as difficult as your damned horse!’

  ‘Bridesmaid?’ Mistral repeated weakly.

  ‘Yes. Surprisingly, none of us lot wanted the task and since Golden and Columbine are no longer around, the job’s fallen to Prospero. He seems quite keen actually.’