The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams)

by Jones, Kirsten

  ‘Not quite the face I like to see when I awake.’ Fabian grimaced and sat up quickly to avoid Prospero’s breath.

  ‘Don’t worry boy. I still love you.’ Mistral reassured the happily panting dog and rubbed his ears. ‘What’s a bit of bad breath between friends anyway?’

  ‘A lot in his case.’ Fabian remarked and reached for his boots.

  After a hasty breakfast of cold rabbit they mounted up, riding beneath a cloudless pale blue sky to reach the meadows by midday where they halted. Here they would go their separate ways. Fabian issued the twins with instructions to only give Leo the basic details of the Contract outcome, promising to be in the Valley the next day and provide a fuller report. And finally, they were alone.

  Mistral watched the twins cantering away side by side and heaved a sigh of relief, ‘Thank heavens for that! Are my ears actually bleeding? Because it feels like it to me!’

  ‘They do like to talk.’ Fabian agreed with a smile.

  Mistral glanced at him and was pleased to see that the brooding expression of last two days had gone, although his aura still held the troubling tell-tale flashes of amethyst and white.

  ‘Do we need to hunt for something to eat tonight?’ she asked brightly.

  ‘Best to. All we have in the cellar is rabbit and I think we deserve something a bit more appetising. We’ll hunt on the way home.’

  Home. Mistral nodded happily and kicked Cirrus on. ‘Hear that?’ she asked suddenly.

  Fabian frowned, concentrating. After a moment he shook his head, ‘I can’t hear anything.’

  ‘I know. Wonderful isn’t it?’

  They were nearly at the end of the forest trial before Prospero flushed out a small deer and Fabian shot it with his crossbow. After finally persuading Prospero to let go of his prize by lavishing him with praise and the promises of more hunts soon, their dinner was strapped across the back of Mistral’s saddle. Prospero seemed unconvinced by her promises and immediately vanished off into the forests again. He had still not returned by the time Mistral and Fabian rode into the courtyard of their house.

  ‘He’s cross with me.’ Mistral sighed.

  ‘He’ll get over it.’ Fabian muttered.

  The sight of their honey-coloured house washed away Mistral’s concern for a creature that blatantly needed none. Home. She was home. Smiling happily, she swung down from the saddle and stretched gratefully.

  ‘I’m so stiff after all that riding!’ she complained, rubbing her lower back.

  Fabian reached out to take Cirrus’ reins, ‘I’ll stable Cirrus. Why don’t you have a bath?’

  Mistral glanced at him, instantly suspicious, but his expression gave nothing away. He smiled and turned away, leading both horses towards the stables. She watched him for a moment then shrugged. A long, hot soak was just what she needed and her niggling doubts weren’t going to ruin it for her. She walked quickly over to the house before Fabian could change his mind and ask her to help and was already reaching for her key as she ran up the short flight of steps to the door.

  Inhaling the familiar scents of wood and smoke Mistral made her way to the small kitchen and lit the stove. She wandered distractedly around the room, performing mindless chores while she waited for the water to heat. With nothing to occupy her mind she found herself returning to the worrying emotions she had seen in Fabian’s aura. Her circular deliberations filled the time it took to heat enough water for her bath. She had just poured in the last pan when Fabian returned from stabling the horses. He sat down at the kitchen table and began to skin the deer.

  ‘I’ll cook tonight,’ he announced.

  Mistral regarded him with narrowed eyes; first stabling Cirrus for her while she prepared a bath and now he was cooking? She had the distinct feeling that Fabian was trying to soften her up.

  ‘Would you mind heating some water for me too?’ Fabian asked, not looking up from the deer.

  A bath? Oh, he was definitely up to something!

  Mistral left some water heating on the stove and walked to the bathroom, closing the door she leaned back against it with a sigh. She loved the tiny bathroom, its dark wooden floor and stone walls … and the bath! It stood on clawed feet in the centre of the room and was quite large, definitely big enough for two.

  Mistral had never experienced the luxury of soaking in a bath until staying at the mountain house. She had washed from a barrel of water outside when she lived in Nevelte and then suffered the icy cold showers in the dorms. At first she had been quietly astounded that Fabian would have been bothered with something quite so extravagant but now she’d seen the grand house of his childhood she realised it was something he was used to.

  Mistral threw her clothes and saddlebag over the wooden chair in the corner and slipped into the water with a sigh of pleasure. She closed her eyes and let the heat of the water slowly ease her aching muscles. After a few moments she opened her eyes and gazed up at the low beamed ceiling, her mind returning to the matter of what was troubling Fabian. Chewing her lip thoughtfully she began to run through all the possibilities. He had obviously learned some piece of information at the Council ... information that would upset her, hence all the “put Mistral in a good mood” tactics. She felt a stab of fear; had Fabian heard news that one of her brothers had been killed? Or was it Emiror? Was she back, professing undying love for the Mage she had once spurned? Oh please no. Don’t let it be her, the beautiful sister of Mage Grapple ... thoughts of Mage Grapple led her off onto another track. Was Fabian in trouble for killing Guillane? No. She was sure it wasn’t that. Mage Grapple hadn’t been that bothered about Guillane. Mage Grapple. He was the key here. He had said something that hadn’t made much sense. Mistral frowned and trailed a hand through the steamy water. What had he said? She racked her brains, recalling the grizzled Mage’s snapped words to Fabian.

  If you were so insulted by Guillane’s words then you really should do something about it.

  But what was there for Fabian to do? Guillane was dead by then, so Fabian had already done something about it. Mistral sighed and slid further down the bath to wash her hair. Well, whatever it was, she was sure she would find out soon enough.

  Feeling more relaxed after her long bath Mistral wrapped a towel around herself and walked over to retrieve her saddlebag from the chair, leaving a trail of wet footprints across the wooden floor. She rummaged for clean clothes and finally pulled out a neatly folded bundle, carefully packed by Phantasm. She smiled, musing that if his career at the Council failed then he would make someone an excellent housekeeper.

  ‘Better?’ Fabian watched her leave the bathroom and walk barefoot across the room to slide onto a chair opposite him.

  ‘I love that bath.’ Mistral sighed happily and sank her chin onto her hands to watch him cutting up the meat. ‘You do realise that it’s big enough for two don’t you?’

  Fabian smiled, ‘Yes. I hope to put it to the test one day.’

  Mistral held his ebony gaze, deliberately dropping her voice to a whisper, ‘Today is good for me.’

  The sound of water boiling over on the stove broke the tension between them.

  ‘That’s just going to keep boiling over if you don’t do something about it.’ Fabian eventually murmured.

  ‘That makes two of us then.’ Mistral threw him a haughty look and strode over to the stove. Wrapping a cloth around her hands she carried the heavy copper pan through to the bathroom to refill the bath. By the time she had boiled enough water Fabian had finished preparing the meat and left to take his bath. Mistral watched him close the door and wondered what he would do if she followed him. Nothing maybe, but then he might do something. Anything. Dragging herself out of hazy bath-related dreams she sighed deeply and decided to get some fresh air.

  She opened the long narrow doors and stepped out onto the balcony. The air was soft, the light fading to early evening. Soon it would be cold, but for now it was pleasant. She leaned her hands against the balustrade and drew in a deep breath of balmy air, heavy
with the scent of pine trees, wild thyme and heather. She exhaled softly and gazed out at the view seen so many times, yet each was like the first. The lush sweep of the forested valleys swelling up to meet the mighty mountains, their proud summits wreathed in crowns of whitest cloud. The irrational anxiety that had plagued her shrank into insignificance in the face of such timeless majesty. There was nothing like looking at a mountain range old as the dawn of time to put things into perspective.

  The sun had begun to drop in the sky and Mistral smiled. She loved the sunsets. The west-facing balcony had provided her and Fabian with many memorable evenings, quietly sitting together and watching the colours of the setting sun fade away to let night slowly creep across the sky.

  A sound behind her made her jump. She turned sharply to see Prospero looking at her from the open doorway with something dead hanging from his mouth.

  ‘You’re back!’ she exclaimed and hurried over to pet him. ‘I missed you! What have you bought me?’

  Prospero opened his mouth and dropped the limp body to floor. Mistral bent and picked up a dead mink. The dense fur was beautifully soft and seemed to be completely unmarked by Prospero’s teeth.

  Mistral nodded appreciatively and turned the body over in her hands, checking for puncture wounds, ‘Not a scratch. Well done boy. This’ll make a good lining for my winter gloves.’

  Prospero’s pale eyes followed his prize while Mistral carried it through to the kitchen.

  ‘I’ll make you a deal.’ Mistral offered when he followed her over to the table, still staring hungrily at his kill. ‘I get the skin and you get the rest.’

  Prospero promptly sat on his haunches and panted happily. His tail thumped the floor when Mistral quickly skinned the mink and tossed him the naked carcass.

  ‘I hope that isn’t my dinner going to the dog.’

  Mistral looked up to see Fabian emerging from the bathroom, his shirt clinging to his still damp skin. Wet tendrils of hair brushed the collar of his shirt. He brought with him the aroma of steam and clean skin, smelling better than the dinner cooking on the stove.

  Mistral forced a reply when all she really wanted to do was stare, ‘Of course it’s not. But dinner is starting to smell good.’ Almost as good as you do.

  ‘I did just about manage to survive before I met you.’

  His voice was amused as he walked up behind her. His lips brushed against her neck, sending a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the sudden touch of his damp hair.

  ‘Come and sit on the balcony with me.’

  Feeling the sudden onset of dread, Mistral watched Fabian walk over the dresser and collect a pitcher of wine and two goblets. She followed him out onto the balcony and sat, wooden as the bench beneath her. The moment had finally come. She watched him pour the wine and accepted the goblet he passed her, suddenly desperate for liquid fortification.

  Fabian placed the pitcher down and sat beside her, smiling so sublimely that she instantly forgot her anxiety and leaned into his embrace with a blissful sigh. They sat, enjoying the silence and the wine, watching the first hues of sunset colour the sky.

  ‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the last couple of days.’

  Mistral felt herself tense. Here we go.

  ‘I noticed.’ she took a large gulp of wine, trying to counteract the sudden acceleration in her heartbeat. She resolved not to lose her temper, no matter what it was … well, within reason anyway.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it for a while actually, but something Eximius said made me realise that I can’t put it off any longer.’

  This wasn’t sounding good. Mistral looked at him, not quite concealing the panic she was feeling, ‘You swore not to leave me!’

  Fabian looked at her steadily, ‘I am not leaving you Mistral. Quite the opposite in fact.’

  Hope flared in Mistral’s widened eyes, ‘We’re giving up on the whole Sight business? I can come and live here? Now? Today?’

  Fabian smiled gently, ‘No Mistral. We’re not giving up on your future.’

  ‘Oh.’ she tried not to sound disappointed, but she was.

  ‘What I am trying to say ... well, ask, really.’ Fabian stopped and drew in a deep breath, looking so suddenly vulnerable that Mistral’s heart ached. ‘Is ... would you please marry me?’

  There was a brief thunderstruck silence while Mistral gaped at him. In all of her wildest dreams about Fabian she had never imagined being married to him. Something so mundane ... she could have laughed. This was what he had been so worried about? The fear and trepidation she had seen in his aura, the bath, the dinner ... it was all because he wanted her to be in a receptive frame of mind when he asked her?

  ‘I really don’t like it when you do this,’ he muttered.

  Mistral blinked and realised that he was looking anxiously at her, so tense and uncertain. She smiled. How could Fabian imagine that she could ever refuse him anything?

  ‘Of course I will marry you.’

  He continued to gaze at her silently for a few seconds then frowned.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Mistral felt her eyebrows arch of their own accord. ‘Have I said the wrong thing?’

  Fabian’s face suddenly blazed with a glorious, triumphant expression. He cupped her face between his hands, kissing her joyously, her lips, her eyelids, her cheeks.

  ‘No, no, a million times no. You gave the answer I was hoping you would, but rather more easily than I was expecting. I thought you would argue with me.’

  Laughing at his reaction, Mistral wriggled from his embrace to look at him, ‘Argue? About what? How can being married change what we already have?’

  Fabian smiled and kissed her again, ‘You are right, of course. Words, ceremony, tradition … all of that pales into insignificance compared to how I feel about you. But I wish you to become my wife for reasons other than convention.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Mistral said slowly, suddenly not liking the turn in conversation.

  Fabian paused and looked at her with a more cautious expression, as if trying to gauge how she would react to what he was about to say.

  ‘Fabian, please just say it!’ Mistral demanded abruptly. ‘I’ve been through every possible reason in my mind as to why I kept seeing anxiety in your aura. I even thought that you were going to tell me one of my brothers had died or worse, that Emiror was back –’

  Fabian suddenly leaned forward and kissed her with a fierce passion that spoke louder than any words could. Her jealous thoughts of Emiror were completely forgotten long before he released her to gaze sincerely into her eyes.

  ‘I love you Mistral.’

  Breathless but still confused, Mistral gazed back, ‘Is that why you’re so keen for us to be married? Because I love you anyway Fabian, I don’t need a ceremony to make that happen. ’

  Fabian sighed and pulled her onto his lap, holding her closely. She rested her head against his shoulder, her eyes filled with the sky, now a flaming riot of sunset colours.

  ‘Guillane’s words were vile, as were his intentions. Both of which he paid for with his life. However, he did bring a truth home to me. I need to protect you with more than my sword or even my life. I need to give you the protection of my name.’

  Mistral’s lips formed a silent “oh”. She hadn’t considered that her name would change, well get longer, since she had no last name. A sudden thought struck her. Would people refer to her as Mrs De Winter? She frowned. That was not something she would particularly relish.

  ‘He also spoke about your soul, which is something I value more highly than my own life. I don’t know,’ he paused and she felt him shrug lightly. ‘Maybe there is nothing beyond this life, but maybe there is. Who can say for sure? I will do nothing to jeopardise the pureness that exists within you, and if that means you have to marry me, then so be it.’

  Mistral tilted her head to gaze up him. His expression was determined, the black gaze she adored resolute. This was something he believed in utterly. Suddenly, she could no longer lie t
o him.

  ‘Um, you don’t have to marry me just because of what Guillane said. It wasn’t that bad.’

  Fabian’s eyes clouded with confusion, ‘How could you know what Guillane said? He spoke only in French.’

  ‘I know.’ Mistral looked down guiltily. ‘I forced a translation out of the twins.’

  Fabian’s face instantly cleared, ‘Ah, but of course they know French. They were educated in a Council school.’

  She looked up at him through her lashes, ‘But not well enough to understand some of your more choice phrases, apparently.’

  ‘Then let us be glad of small mercies. I was extremely angry.’

  ‘I noticed,’ she said, adding drily. ‘So did Guillane.’

  Fabian abruptly scowled, ‘He was going to kill you.’

  ‘I know.’

  Fabian looked at her, his dark eyes shining with an intense emotion, ‘But don’t you see Mistral! If you were my wife he would never have spoken to you in that way! Your life wouldn’t have been endangered and your reputation blackened in front of the entire damned Council!’

  ‘Oh Fabian! I don’t care about my reputation! We know the truth! And we both know that to call me a whore is laughable!’

  Fabian’s eyes suddenly blazed with fury, ‘But I do care about your reputation and it is not ever laughable to insult you! I care about everything to do with you and I will not have anyone think less of you than you are worth!’

  Struck by the depth his feeling for her, Mistral reached up gently to touch his face, running her fingers lightly over the hollows of his cheeks and tracing the rigid line of his jaw. She watched his gaze soften to the black velvet that melted her heart and twined her fingers through his damp hair, pulling him to her, kissing him with a yearning hunger. Gently reaching up to release her hold Fabian gazed down at her, his eyes fierce and soft all at once, betraying the complex nature of her dark Mage.

  ‘We will be married as soon as I can arrange it.’

  ‘And I’m going to redouble my efforts at mastering Sight, or we’re going to end up playing cards on our wedding night.’