by Lizzy Ford
George is a damned good liar, Aveline thought, entertained by how he was manipulating the fickle-tempered beauty.
“Then I accept. For now.” The dark-haired woman lifted a plate and placed a heel of bread, three strawberries and a half-eaten piece of meat upon it. She leaned over to pour a cup of tea next, dropped a sugar cube into it, then reached into a pocket hidden in her sleeve for a small vial. She delicately dispelled two drops from the vial before replacing it. “Slave, serve your mistress her dinner!”
George nudged Aveline forward.
Is Tiana a dog? She thought, looking over the paltry dinner. She approached and accepted the plate and saucer held out towards her while the woman glared at George.
“It will be your life in the fire, if this does not go well, or if I find upon his return he did not arrange this,” she warned him.
He bowed his head at her then signaled Aveline towards the door.
Aveline obeyed, not at all eager to remain in the presence of the wealthy woman. She exited and waited in the round cul de sac for George. He appeared after a minute and closed the door to the woman’s chambers behind him.
“You will need to tread very carefully,” he warned Aveline again. “Tiana has never had a personal slave, and her stepmother will object to her husband if my master fails to reassign you. At the very least, you should have three weeks, until my master returns.”
Puzzled by the dynamics of the assignment, Aveline waited for George to explain.
“Do not ask too many questions and do not cross paths with Matilda, if you can help it,” he said. “Her drugs have made her pleasant today.”
“That was pleasant?” Aveline asked, eyebrows shooting up.
George said nothing. He knew far more than he let on, Aveline assessed. Surprised he had stood up to the stepmother named Matilda, she chalked it up to an impressive sense of loyalty to his master. She had never heard how slaves lived. By the nature by which they were bought and sold, she assumed loyalty would be difficult to assure.
“This is Tiana’s room. It’s kept locked from the outside at all time,” he said and approached the door right of center. “My master ordered for you to be provided a key. It will allow you to exit Tiana’s chambers. You cannot give it to Tiana or to anyone else. She must not leave her room. Ever. You must not speak about her to anyone, ever.”
Aveline’s instincts were on edge. George’s expression, always grim, had turned severe.
“What’s wrong with her?” she asked when he finished the lecture. “Why is she locked up?” Her concern was not for some wealthy girl living in opulence but her own safety.
“It is not my duty to know,” George replied and looked away.
But he did know. Aveline would wager every one of the gold candlesticks in Matilda’s fancy parlor on it.
“Take Tiana her dinner. Remember, if we are caught, we both burn.” By his tone, he had little hope of Aveline succeeding.
“You’re as pleasant as Matilda,” Aveline said. “Don’t worry so much, George.”
“I am old. At least, I will burn quickly.” He handed her a large key.
She smiled, entertained by the dour slave. George left her standing before Tiana’s door and Aveline focused on her mission.
The only obstacle between her and the ability to claim her place among her father’s assassins lay beyond the elegant mahogany slab of wood with its gilded fixtures. Hired first to protect Tiana, then to murder her, Aveline doubted anything could surprise her more than the turn her life had taken since her father’s death. Whatever reason Tiana was locked away was inconsequential when Aveline was determined to win Karl’s support and save Rocky.
She could make it until spring in this ridiculous world of the wealthy. If Tiana resembled her unpleasant stepmother at all, she would be easy to kill.
This is how I will honor my father. She drew a steady breath.
When she was an official assassin, Aveline would be able to look up at the sky and know her father and mother were proud of her. She hated crying, hated how weak it made her feel, but when she thought of her father, she was unable to stop the tears from forming. He had been her mentor as well as her father, and she found herself wishing she could seek his advice one last time about her current circumstances. His sudden absence rattled her to her core.
She took a moment to regain control over her emotions then shifted the saucer to brace it against her body so she could pull the key to Tiana’s room from her pocket. Her nose wrinkled at the pungent tea. Recognizing a very faint odor among the heavier smells of herbs, she leaned forward and sniffed.
An assassin learned early on how to identify poisons by scent and taste. Aveline lifted the cup to her mouth and took a tiny sip. Intermixed with the strong herbs was a familiar flavor: arsenic, a favorite among assassins.
That bitch, she thought, amazed by how brazen Matilda had been. None of the slaves had blinked when she dropped the poison into Tiana’s drink. Were they ignorant as to what it was? Or too afraid to speak up?
If her only challenge to keeping Tiana alive was a woman too stupid to hide what she did, Aveline’s duty to protect the Hanover girl was going to be easier than she thought.
Reaching forward to unlock the door, Aveline felt confident about her future for the first time since her father fell ill, although cautious about what danger lurked in the room before her. She envisioned a chamber similar to Matilda’s or one of the sitting rooms she had passed through while following George here. Balancing herself on the balls of her feet, in case this Tiana was somehow dangerous, Aveline opened the door slowly.
Chapter Five
Aveline blinked in the dim lighting of the room. The window across from the door had been boarded up, though light peeked in around the edges of the slab of wood covering it. The small bedroom was lit only by two candles and a dangling light bulb. For a moment, she stood in the doorway, puzzled. It was as if she had been magically transported from the outer city to the inner city. The room was barren of every sign of wealth and consisted of wooden floors and walls, weathered furniture and few personal belongings, none of which appeared to be of value, except for a glass perfume bottle on the vanity. Even it was only of moderate value.
She spotted the pile of books then, antique tomes from the Old World stacked on one side of the vanity. Each of the books was worth a small fortune in the criminal underworld. A bathroom with indoor plumbing – the only other luxury the room contained – was off to the right and a closet to the left. The room was clean and plain and smelled of the roses placed in a simple vase on the nightstand beside a skinny, wooden bed with rags for coverings. Neither pictures nor mirrors hung on the walls, and no sculptures stood in the corners.
This is worse than my room, Aveline thought, recalling her cluttered bedroom in her father’s cabin.
The girl on the bed seemed to be frozen in place. Her eyes were downcast, her long blond locks loose around her. She was barefoot and clothed in a cotton gown, the kind Aveline wore to sleep when she as a child.
But this was not a child. Aveline estimated the girl to be around her age, slender to the point of gaunt – and breathtakingly beautiful with pale, flawless skin and small features. Aveline caught herself staring too long. She had never been drawn to women over men, but Tiana was the prettiest woman she had ever seen, prettier even than Matilda. She almost understood the appeal of a beautiful woman to a man.
Aveline closed the door. She started to ask where Tiana wanted her dinner then stopped, recalling she was supposed to be mute. Crossing to the small table near the boarded up window, she placed the meager meal on it. The food and room fit together – but nothing else about this place did. Why did Matilda’s stepdaughter live in poverty, under lock and key? The girl contained absolutely none of the muscular toning Aveline did after years of calisthenics and weapons training. She was naturally slender without being athletic, leading Aveline to believe Tiana posed no physical danger to anyone.
Unless … was she insane?
It was the only other conclusion Aveline could draw, and it left her leery. Some of the poorest people on the streets displayed an unpredictable, dangerous sort of madness characterized by fits of rage and violence. Her father had been kinder to them than most, teaching Aveline that they would starve without charity, since they were unable to work for a living.
If madness were the case, Aveline almost understood why Tiana was imprisoned in this room with none of the finery she might throw or break or damage in an uncontrollable state.
Aveline waited to be acknowledged in some regard, especially after she dumped out the tea and rinsed the cup out, or for Tiana to eat her dinner.
Tiana did not move or lift her eyes from the floor. Her shoulders were hunched, and she was tense.
After an awkward silence that stretched for over ten minutes, Aveline retreated to the door and debated leaving. She had formed no real expectation of the person she was supposed to guard, and she was still startled by what she found. If Tiana’s family barely fed her and kept her locked up, what harm would anyone possibly want to cause her?
Why did Tiana’s brother insist only Aveline could protect her? And why had Karl’s benefactor likewise claimed only Aveline could kill her?
Aveline’s instincts were whispering, but she could not quite understand what they wanted her to know. Unlike Matilda, she sensed no danger from Tiana, but there was a charge in the air that left her edgy. Combined with the Spartan quarters, she had the sudden urge to talk to George and ask several more questions about her new charge.
She made the decision to find him, and the slave quarters, then return before dusk. Most assassinations occurred between twilight and dawn. If Tiana’s brother were concerned about someone attacking her, those were the hours Aveline needed to be wary.
She reached for the door to open it. Before she could unlock it, however, it was shoved open.
Aveline stumbled back.
“Dumb as promised,” a female voice said coolly. Aveline caught her balance against the wall. “Your brother wasted a whole ounce on this slave.”
Aveline lowered her eyes when she saw the familiar blue of Matilda’s dress and ground her teeth to keep from reacting.
Matilda closed the door behind her and breezed obliviously into the room towards Tiana.
“This slave is yours, at least, until your brother returns and reassigns her,” she announced. “I will no longer be forced to wait upon you, hand and foot. If I hear you displayed any incidents for her to see, I will have you whipped, Tiana.”
“Yes, Matilda,” came the soft, quiet response.
“And you, slave!” Matilda rounded on Aveline. “My stepdaughter is of a delicate nature. Her blood has been poisoned by witchcraft and sorcery. She is forbidden by her father from leaving this room, unless her presence is mandated by him and him alone. If she displays any strangeness, you will inform me, or you will be the one whipped.”
Aveline had a few choice words for Matilda but kept quiet. The bizarre explanation for Tiana’s seclusion made little sense to her, unless strangeness was how the wealthy described madness.
“Nod if you understand, slave,” Matilda ordered.
Aveline obeyed.
The woman in blue crossed to the vanity and yanked open a drawer. She pulled out a clear, glass vial containing what Aveline presumed was the kind of illicit drugs that often drove people into madness on the streets. By its color, pure white, it was of better quality than anything found in the inner city.
Matilda pushed the drugs into her purse and left the room. The sound of the lock sliding into place was followed by more awkward silence.
Tiana remained frozen in place.
Uncertain what to expect, Aveline studied her, this time noticing the bandages around one of the girl’s arms. Extensive scarring marred Tiana’s other forearm, and she bore bruises on the rest of her exposed arms and across one cheek.
An uneasy feeling slid through Aveline, one akin to pity. She shook it off, not about to empathize with the girl she was supposed to kill in a few months. But she did decide to remain here rather than leaving to find George. Whether the danger to Tiana was Matilda, or someone else, she was unable to shake the instinct urging her not to leave the vulnerable, mad girl alone until she had figured out a little bit more about her.
Her mind made up, Aveline crossed the room to the vanity, which contained one of the two chairs in the bedroom. The second was at the table. She withdrew the leather bundle George had provided and sat down to unroll it.
Knives of rare metal, spikes of silver, throwing stars of bronze, and other essentials for an assassin were contained in the bundle. Aveline unrolled the entire thing before lowering her hands and admiring the valuable items before her. It was almost a shame to sully them with blood!
Tiana’s brother understood the kind of weaponry assassins preferred. These were high quality, well made, balanced, sharp and polished. They were perfect in every way. When this was over, she could sell them or keep them, depending on how attached she became to the beautiful weaponry.
“Can you use them?” Tiana’s voice was so soft, Aveline barely heard it.
“Yes,” she replied absently.
“I knew you were not mute.”
Burn me. Aveline tensed and then twisted to see the girl on the bed nearby. Tiana’s gaze remained on the ground, but there was a small smile on her features. Up close, her skin was so pale, it appeared translucent.
“I will not tell,” she added. “I know my brother arranged for you to be here. It is our secret. Matilda would have you burnt, if she found out.”
“I’m not afraid of her,” Aveline said resolutely.
“I am.”
The words gave her pause, and Aveline tried to understand the wriggling instinct.
Tiana shifted from the bed and went to the table, where she picked up a red berry from her dinner plate. “I love strawberries,” she said. “Did you know they grow on plants?”
“Um, yes. Where else would they grow?” Aveline asked.
“On trees.”
Aveline shook her head and rolled the weapons back up into a bundle. Madness had to be the case with Tiana.
“Have you ever seen one?” Tiana asked.
“Seen what?”
“A tree.”
“Of course I’ve seen a tree,” Aveline replied. “Who hasn’t?”
Tiana’s wistful sigh was her answer.
Aveline frowned. “How long have you been in here?”
“Since my father burnt my mother at the stake after I was born,” Tiana replied.
The response flowed so easily, without emotion of any kind, that Aveline was momentarily taken aback by the brutal honesty. Was this the event that drove Tiana insane?
Tiana sat and began to nibble on the bread. She placed the strawberries in a line on one side of her plate.
“Why do they keep you locked up in here?” Aveline asked.
The blond girl’s hands went to her lap, and she twisted them. Her head lowered until her chin touched her chest, and she slumped, a beautiful, wilted flower.
Aveline did not care for how seeing Tiana this deflated made her feel. “You don’t have to say,” she said.
After a minute, Tiana straightened and began eating.
It was too quiet in the small space. Aveline rose and paced. Whenever she gave herself enough time to think, her mind slid back to her father. Being active helped distract her. The room was not large enough for her to do any weapons or combat training.
“I think strawberry is my favorite color,” Tiana said.
“I don’t think strawberry is a color,” Aveline snapped, frustrated she could not release her emotions.
Tiana went still again.
Reading the other girl’s body language, as she had learned on the streets, Aveline sighed. “It can be if you want it to be.”
“If you do not wish to be here, you need not stay,” Tiana said softly, sadly. “I cannot leave, and you can return wh
en you desire to. We can talk more when you come back.”
“To be clear: we aren’t supposed to be friends, Tiana,” Aveline said. “I don’t care what your favorite color is, and I’m not here to entertain you. Do you understand?”
Tiana had wilted again. “Yes.” Her defeated tone was the same she used with Matilda.
Aveline felt lower than her street caste breeding. She gathered up her cloak and bundle of weapons, uncertain how to react. Her original plan nudged its way into her thoughts again.
“I’ll return before dark,” she said shortly and then left without waiting to hear Tiana’s response.
The odd energy in the air around Tiana faded as Aveline walked through the apartment. This time, she did not glance once at the wealth she passed but strode as fast as possible without running to the slaves’ lift. Another slave was waiting for the door to open, and Aveline kept her distance, troubled by her interactions with the other girl and the instincts she could not decipher.
Her initial impression, that Tiana was likely insane, left her dissatisfied. The girl, while different, had not seemed so mad once she spoke. If anything, she seemed lonely locked away in her room. Their interaction only perplexed Aveline more as to why anyone would want to harm the isolated, neglected Tiana.
As an assassin, it did not matter why anyone wanted her dead, if he was able to pay for the murder. Death was a business transaction, and the relationship between sponsor and target was not her concern. Aveline had this facet of killing drilled into her. So why did her instincts urge her to examine more closely the two conflicting jobs she was hired for? Why did Matilda’s treatment of Tiana irritate her? For all she knew, Matilda was the benefactor Karl had discussed. Aveline had spent all of two minutes in Matilda’s presence and would not doubt the woman’s ability to murder her own stepdaughter.
Disturbed as much by her own thoughts as her circumstances, Aveline stepped into the elevator box when it opened and rode the lift down to the base of the pyramid. She paused to orient herself before descending the stairwell into the basement.