The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams)

by Jones, Kirsten

  Mistral pulled a face, ‘That reminds me. Columbine is here.’

  ‘Is that why you have finger bruises around your throat?’

  Mistral’s hand automatically reached up to cover the bruises encircling the pale skin of her neck, ‘Are they that obvious?’

  ‘Only to me.’ Fabian murmured, tracing the circle of bruises lightly with his finger.

  Mistral felt a shiver run down her spine. His finger caressed her skin slowly, back and forth. She gazed at him longingly until he took pity on her and smiled, touching her lips with the ghost of a kiss. She closed her eyes and sighed, lost in the joy of being held in his arms again.

  ‘Mistral? I need you to tell me something.’

  The abruptness of his tone dragged her back to reality. Her eyes flew open to find him looking intently at her, his expression suddenly serious, bordering on angry.

  ‘What?’ she was suddenly fully alert, her fight or flight instincts kicking in.

  ‘I want to know exactly how Columbine managed to attack you when I left strict instructions for the twins to be with you at all times.’

  Mistral sighed, her heart slowing while her mind pondered how to answer Fabian’s question satisfactorily without landing the twins in too much trouble. She quickly decided to try and divert the inquisition that was looming.

  ‘Yes, and thank you so much for that!’ she snapped acidly. ‘Because it wasn’t at all annoying! If you must know, I was swimming when she attacked me.’

  Fabian stared at her wordlessly and Mistral instantly felt herself blush.

  ‘Were you alone?’

  ‘Um, well, Prosp was with me.’

  ‘Don’t be obtuse! Were the twins with you?’

  Mistral held his hard black stare for a moment then dropped her gaze, cursing her inability to lie.

  ‘No.’

  Fabian drew in a sharp breath and Mistral quickly jumped in, gabbling her words in an attempt to deflect his anger.

  ‘Fabian! Please don’t be angry with the twins! I woke early and they were still asleep. I wanted a swim alone so I didn’t wake them. I was fed up with the whole wretched babysitting routine. It’s my fault, not theirs –’

  ‘Mistral.’ Fabian cut across her in a hard voice. ‘Please stop defending the twins. I know how wilful you can be.’

  She pulled up short, ‘Wilful?’

  He smiled, disarming her anger in a single stroke, ‘It’s one of your many qualities.’

  ‘I have qualities?’

  He nodded slowly, his dark eyes glowing in the moonlight, ‘Too many to list.’

  ‘Is this one of them?’ smiling slowly she reached up to wind her fingers through his dark hair, losing herself in the soft caress of his lips against hers.

  ‘Do I even need to say how much I have missed you?’ she breathed when he finally pushed her away.

  He gazed down at her, his raised eyebrows inviting her to continue. Entering into his suddenly playful spirit Mistral threw him a smouldering look.

  ‘Because I would rather carry on showing you.’

  Fabian held her burning gaze for a moment longer and then smiled wistfully, stroking a finger gently down her cheek.

  ‘I fear that would push the boundaries of my restraint beyond its limits and may also provoke Imperato into leaping from the shadows to protect your virtue.’

  Mistral sighed while Fabian wrapped his arm around to continue their walk in silence, allowing time and the cool night air to fade the unresolved desire between them.

  ‘I didn’t realise you knew the centaur tribe from The Velvet Forests.’ Mistral finally ventured, glancing at him curiously.

  ‘I don’t. But they seem to know you.’

  ‘I don’t know how.’ Mistral frowned. ‘I met them for the first time yesterday. It was a bit weird to say the least. Imperato immediately called me a Seer and started talking about my gift. He even knew my name.’

  Fabian looked at her thoughtfully, ‘The centaur tribe from The Velvet Forests are descended from a blood-line that has produced at least two Seers –’

  ‘Three, actually.’ Mistral interrupted, pleased to be able to add something positive to their conversation for a change.

  Fabian smiled, ‘I stand corrected. Three Seers. Imperato obviously feels an affinity with you because of your gift. In fact, he has asked for my permission to spend some time with you during the festival.’

  Mistral was too intrigued to bridle at the concept of Fabian’s permission being asked, ‘Really? To do what?’

  ‘To offer you guidance on mastering Sight.’

  ‘Oh. That.’ Mistral muttered, realising with a flash of guilt that she had not even read an aura since arriving in the Vale, never mind spent time working on harnessing the power of her gift. She immediately tensed, waiting for Fabian’s inevitable question.

  ‘How are you progressing with your gift Mistral?’

  Mistral hid a sigh, wishing fervently that just for once, she could actually provide Fabian with some good news.

  ‘Erm, slowly’.

  They walked in silence for a few moments. Mistral drew in a deep breath and turned to look at him, steeling herself for the disappointment she would see in his eyes.

  ‘Sorry.’

  He frowned, his eyes suddenly tightening with anger, ‘Mistral. Tell me you are not trying to master Sight just to please me!’

  Mistral hesitated, her impulsive denial dying on her lips. Was she? Well … yes. Some part of her desperately wanted Fabian to see only the best in her and constantly sought his approval. To see him smile because she had pleased him was to experience a thousand stars bursting in her heart. Why else would she want Sight if not to please Fabian? In truth, there was no other reason. Saul was right. Anyone could tell that she didn’t want her gift. She only wanted Fabian. And if her gift meant Fabian, then she wanted her gift. Badly.

  Imperato’s words leapt abruptly into her mind, full of conviction, absolute and unbending.

  ‘She will See … It is written and cannot be changed.’

  Mistral heaved a sigh and silently cursed her stupid destiny for happily announcing itself in blazing stare-shaped letters across the sky whilst continuing to elude her.

  ‘Mistral?’

  Fabian’s voice cut across her thoughts. She looked up, knowing a lecture was coming.

  ‘You will never master your gift if it is solely to humour me. You have no need to seek my approval. You have that already; and so much more besides. You must want to embrace your gift for you, not for anyone or anything else –’

  ‘What? Not even for the good of the Isle and the future of the Ri?’ Mistral asked dully.

  Fabian inhaled sharply, ‘I do not share the ambitions of Eximius or Leo, but surely you can see the important role a Seer plays in the continued existence of the Isle?’

  ‘That’s just it!’ Mistral burst. ‘I resent the pressure! The assumed belief that I want to dedicate my life to looking into other people’s minds and reading their dirty secrets! Well I don’t! And I’ll tell you another thing Fabian –’

  Mistral paused to take a breath while Fabian waited calmly for her to continue.

  ‘I am sick to death of the whole Isle and his dog knowing that we can’t be together until I master my wretched gift! I don’t want Sight or money or fame or any of that stuff!’ her voice fell to a whisper. ‘I just want you.’

  ‘Oh, my wild angel, I know how you feel. Don’t you think I feel it too?’ Fabian cupped her face gently, gazing at her sadly. ‘But we can’t allow our feelings to blind you. Ah, Mistral. Would it help if I left? Just for a while, to allow you to concentrate –’

  ‘No!’ she almost shouted. ‘It’s worse when you’re not here … I get … I do … oh, I don’t know, reckless, stupid … whatever you want to call it … but I end up doing anything to try and mask the pain of missing you!’

  Fabian instantly looked worried, ‘What have you done?’

  ‘Oh nothing!’ she replied quickly and then gave
him a guilty look. ‘Well, er, I might have got into a fight, but it wasn’t too bad.’

  His lips curved into the semblance of a smile but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  ‘Fabian?’ Mistral continued in a beseeching whisper. ‘Does it really matter why I want to master my gift so long as I just do? Everyone else seems to have their reasons for wanting me to achieve Sight. Is it so wrong for me to have my own?’

  Fabian frowned; his black gaze searching her face before finally settling on her eyes, ‘No. But I hate the idea of you feeling forced into something you don’t want –’

  ‘You know I just want you. What could be more of an incentive?’

  Fabian abruptly burst out laughing.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Mistral demanded.

  ‘You.’ Fabian said, smiling softly at her. ‘Your gift would bring you money, power, all the trappings of fame, yet you just want a worthless rogue like me.’

  ‘No.’ Mistral shook her head. ‘Not like you. I want you.’

  They had reached the tent. Grendel had gone and there was no sign of the twins. Mistral glanced quickly at the horse enclosure and saw their horses and Cirrus grazing with the rest. They had come back and tactfully gone inside the tent, no doubt to mutter warning to Saul.

  While Fabian turned Spirit out Mistral unstrapped her swords and dropped them on the ground. She rolled her shoulders, easing the ache from the day. The fire had burned low. She kicked the embers to coax them back into life then threw another log on. Prospero wagged his tail appreciatively and dropped onto his belly before collapsing over onto his side with a contented groan. She smiled at her dog then looked around for her saddlebag. Phantasm had been carrying it and she hoped he’d left it out for her. She’d packed food for the journey that she could offer Fabian. He looked like he hadn’t eaten since leaving to for France. Her eyes fell on the tatty leather bag resting by the closed entrance to the tent. She walked quietly over and bent to pick it up, the top was undone with the parcel of food placed carefully on top to prevent it from becoming squashed. Mistral smiled. Phantasm thought of everything.

  ‘Will you tell me about the Contract now?’ she asked Fabian when he returned from settling Spirit.

  ‘Of course.’ he dropped down beside the fire and pulled her to sit between his knees. ‘But it wasn’t quite what I expected.’

  ‘He is dead isn’t he?’ Mistral asked quickly, tilting her head back to look up at him.

  Fabian stared into the fire, his expression almost disappointed, ‘Oh yes. But he was dead before I even arrived.’

  Instead of being relieved at the news that Fabian had been saved from fulfilling an assassination Contract, Mistral felt only irritation that they had been separated for no reason at all.

  ‘Oh for crying out loud! Who killed him? Did Golden get too energetic?’

  ‘No Mistral. The Rochfortes killed Putreo. They still bore a long-standing grudge for his betrayal of their name and he had outlived his usefulness.’ Fabian paused and shrugged lightly. ‘I suppose it was their justice to administer, however, I’m sure you can appreciate that I didn’t take their word for the truth.’

  Mistral frowned, not understanding his meaning. Her gaze was on his hands, the long pale fingers curled protectively around hers. She suddenly noticed half-moons of dirt beneath each nail and gasped.

  ‘You dug him up?’

  ‘Yes. I did.’

  What was there to say in response to that? Nothing. So Mistral fell silent, staring down at the hands that held hers. Fabian followed her gaze and held them up to inspect them more closely. The flickering firelight revealed more black dirt trapped in the creases of his palms. He gave a short laugh.

  ‘I suppose we should be grateful that the Rochfortes don’t follow the tradition of burning their dead, or I may be a little singed instead of just dirty.’

  Mistral found herself laughing with him, her black horror giving way to relief. Putreo was finally out of their lives for ever. A frightening thought occurred to her, abruptly stopping her laughter.

  ‘Are you sure it as really him? Only he fooled me with all those illusions of you. He could have cast the same spell to trick you!’

  ‘Quite sure. Illusions don’t smell like two week old corpses.’

  Fabian let his hands fall back into her lap. Mistral immediately took hold of them, determined to show him that she wasn’t deterred by what he’d done to secure their future.

  ‘And Golden?’

  ‘Now Etienne’s lover. I’m sorry Mistral, but she’s out of our reach, for now.’

  Mistral scowled, ‘Damn! She moves fast!’

  ‘She has a strong sense of self-preservation and no morals. It’s a powerful combination. We may have to be patient.’ Fabian warned quietly.

  ‘I think I’m learning all about patience don’t you?’ Mistral muttered. ‘But her day will come, I swear it!’

  ‘I don’t doubt it. However, I am more concerned with the immediate problem of Columbine.’

  Mistral made an irritated noise and reached for the parcel of food, ‘Don’t waste energy worrying about her! The next time we meet will be the last.’

  ‘Enough talk of retributions.’ Fabian banded his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. ‘Tell me all about your resounding victory in the horse race.’

  ‘Oh, Cirrus was amazing!’ Mistral sighed happily and leaned back against him to relive the race. They talked, sharing the food and occasionally throwing some to Prospero when his whining grew too loud to ignore. With silken-voiced skills a Council interrogator would have been proud to possess, Fabian teased from her the rest of the festival’s events; her meeting with Imperato, the feast, Columbine’s attack. He questioned her endlessly on the twins’ conversation with the elves, but Mistral’s recollections were hazy, prompting Fabian to make noises about having a word with Samson about his failure to restrain her drinking habits. To avoid having another guard dog on her tail, Mistral quickly distracted him with tales of Grendel’s unexpected success with the nymphs, Xerxes’ jealousy and Hermes’ unwilling antics with the amazon. He laughed and so did she, all the time acutely aware of the one subject they were steadfastly avoiding.

  Saul.

  Mistral desperately wanted Fabian to promise not to do something he might not regret, but she would. She didn’t want Saul, but she didn’t want to see him hurt, either by her lack of feelings for him or by Fabian’s sword. She truly feared for her brother’s life, but she kept quiet, utterly unwilling to do anything to fracture her moment of happiness. Fabian was here. Nothing else mattered. Feeling guilty and selfish, she curled up in his arms and listened to the sound of his voice murmuring softly to her, justifying her denial.

  Unarmed and Dangerous

  The first pale fingers of dawn were reaching across the eastern sky when Mistral eventually drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep wrapped in Fabian’s arms. She was still sound asleep when the twins emerged from the tent, tousle-haired and blinking in the bright morning sunlight.

  ‘Good morning Mage De Winter.’ Phantasm greeted Fabian solicitously, as though his presence were entirely normal.

  ‘Morning.’ Phantom added with a yawn and looked down at Mistral, dead to the world, wrapped in Fabian’s travelling cloak with Prospero stretched out beside her.

  Fabian nodded politely to them both and returned his attention to sharpening his dagger.

  ‘Are you going to let her sleep through the morning’s event?’ Phantom asked, eyeing her dubiously. ‘She’ll be furious.’

  ‘I would rather face Mistral’s temper than watch her compete in an armed melee.’ Fabian replied tersely.

  ‘Fair point.’ Phantom conceded with another yawn. ‘I think it’s going to be pretty messy. It’s meant to be unbladed weapons only, but from what I’ve seen so far cheating seems to be an accepted part of this tournament.’

  ‘Which is precisely why I would appreciate you keeping your voice down and letting her sleep.’

  ‘Oh, right –
sorry. I’ll ask the others to keep it down.’ Phantom disappeared back into the tent leaving his brother alone with Fabian.

  ‘Mage De Winter. I –’ Phantasm launched into what was obviously a prepared speech but was cut short by a black stare from Fabian.

  ‘You have nothing to apologise for. Quite the opposite. I am deeply grateful for your efforts to protect Mistral.’

  Phantasm frowned, ‘Well, we weren’t entirely successful actually –’

  ‘I am fully aware of all the recent events.’ Fabian snapped, returning his attention to his dagger.

  Phantasm was silent for a moment. The sounds of urgently whispered conversations inside the tent were clearly audible.

  ‘Saul –’ Phantasm began in a low voice.

  ‘Is a lovesick fool. But he does not deserve to die for it.’ Fabian said shortly.

  Phantasm exhaled in relief.

  ‘However.’ Fabian continued, looking at Phantasm with cold eyes. ‘That was the last time he propositions my wife.’

  Phantasm nodded slowly, the meaning in Fabian’s words were clear. If Saul put a foot wrong again he would die for it.

  ‘Now. If you would be so generous as to reprise your watch duties for a while longer, I will leave you all to have breakfast. There are a few people I need to see.’ Fabian stood up and brushed his hands against his trousers. He glanced at his hands and frowned. ‘And perhaps a wash wouldn’t go amiss.’

  Phantasm watched his dark figure striding along the avenue of tents, apparently oblivious to the hostile looks he attracted from the few Arcanes already up and about.

  ‘He’s gone.’ Phantasm called softly once Fabian was safely out of sight.

  ‘You sure?’ Phantom asked, poking his head out of the tent flap.

  ‘Yes, but for pity’s sake keep it down! If you wake Mistral up she’ll want to compete and he’s not around to stop her!’

  Phantom scowled and ducked back inside the tent to pass on the news. They all quickly filed out, looking around cautiously.

  ‘How angry was he?’ Cain asked quietly.

  ‘He wasn’t too bad actually.’ Phantasm shrugged then dropped his voice. ‘But he did hint that this was Saul’s last warning.’