My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  To her shock, Gavin slipped his fingers into hers and squeezed tight. Myra's mouth hung slack, her tongue all but dangling free in surprise, but she at least thought to return the grip.

  "That good, huh?" she deadpanned, the pair of them staring at the sheet above a dead body because it was easier than facing each other.

  "I am tired," his words mumbled as if acorns were stuffed into his cheeks. "I thought... Why would anyone want this life?"

  "What? The life of living?"

  "If I'd never left home, never become a squire then..." Gavin groaned, a heel of his palm rapping into his skull, "none of it would have occurred."

  "Destiny's not something we choose, it isn't lain out before us in a fancy book, or set in stone by people from ages back that lived on mountains and subsisted on nothing but yak feces," Myra took a deep breath, aware she was veering off topic. "It's not what happens to us, but what we do with it that matters."

  "What have I done with it?" he asked, his voice broken as he pointed towards the corpse of his friend.

  "You brought him home," Myra tried to wipe away the tears in her eyes but she couldn't. "No one else would have."

  Gavin snickered a moment, his amber pools welling up but he blinked it all away. Rubbing into the back of his neck with his free hand, he tried to distance himself from the truth, "I'm certain someone else, if it happened, would have thought to...to do the right thing?"

  "You walked into a line of blades, faced down a wrathful Queen to give her the body of her son. Ain't a damn person in that caravan, maybe all of Ferelden who'd do that without blinking."

  "I was afraid," he whispered, "that...that I made a grave mistake. That I'd not return from wherever we are underground."

  Myra gripped tighter to his hand, "Show's you're brave and not stupid."

  "I feel far more the latter than the former right now," he muttered, his body waning from the confession. Myra released her hold on his hand, Gavin glancing down at the loss and his eyes stinging in regret. But she swooped her hand around the small of his back and perhaps foolishly tucked herself under his arm for a hug.

  Gavin's hand hung suspended just above her shoulder, his mind weighing if this was wise or not. Rather than tell him it was fine, she knew better than to read anything into it, Myra waited. Slowly, he curled his palm against the top of her shoulder and gently tugged her to him.

  "Who told you that," he spoke softly, "the bit about destiny?"

  "My Dad, though it was a lot more mad rambling when he said it."

  "Funny," Gavin snorted, "because my mother says the same. With less yak feces, of course."

  "But the yak poop is the best part," Myra said and the boy who looked as if he'd been dragged to the void and back laughed. It felt hollow in this living tomb, but it was a sliver of hope in the darkness. Maybe he'd make it out of this, maybe he'd become that great Knight he was striving for. Settle down with a lovely lady with huge tracts of land, rule it justly and fair. He'd be a great Bann or Arl, no doubt.

  And she...she'd bumble on, doing whatever she did. Not of the crown, not of the commoners, not of the elves, not of the humans, not of anything but herself. The girl of nots.

  "Myra?" his voice cracked through the chilled air, rattling away her dour thoughts.

  She turned her head to him to find Gavin's face pressed closer than she anticipated. "Yeah?" Myra gasped, uncertain what to do.

  "Thank you, for...for worrying."

  A breath exhaled from her lungs, Myra's body urging her to kiss those morose lips. To try and bring just a moment of bliss to him in this never ending river of shit. She blinked madly, her cheeks burning as she whipped her head away. "It was Lambert, remember. Lambert that was worried."

  "Right," Gavin nodded, his own head turning to the side. But he squeezed his fingers tighter to her shoulder. "How could I forget Lambert."

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Old Sins

  Anjali's breath held tight in her cheeks as she paced outside the handful of tents the Queen allowed them to set up. Not many were inside the gates. Rosie, her sickening handlers, the brother, somewhere around here was the bastard sister. That knight with a sword up her ass -- she brought along a few squires for good measure to more or less get in the way. And that was all.

  The dwarf Queen made damn certain any and all advisors or politicians remained far outside their walls. Whatever her endgame was, Anjali barely cared to guess. For awhile, the princess vanished into the deep to observe the final rites of the deceased, or so Nerazda claimed. It left everyone on edge, Anjali unable to stop pacing like a jaguar trapped inside a cage. Every lap, her eyes would dart to the door to their under-city, her fingers itching to yank out a dagger strapped to her back. Perhaps it took no time at all, perhaps hours. She couldn't tell, her body so on edge the concept of time itself vanished.

  When Rosamund emerged unhurt and humbled, with her sister in tow, the princess glanced once at the uneasy assassin. There were volumes written in that single bat of her beautiful eyes, most of which Anjali barely understood. She knew why she left her, it was what she was trained to do. It was the returning, the promptly not only leaping to save this foreign woman but begging to stand by her side once again that inverted Anjali's heart.

  She was an assassin. They, by default, did not form attachments easily. Certainly not quickly. Port in a storm and all that rot that gussied up a life with no home, no security, no...love. Anjali ran because...because she'd been wrong before. So very wrong it beat upon her brain every time she looked in the mirror.

  Why were the feelings prickling against her fingers and toes? The sap seeping down her lungs and into her heart? Wasn't she supposed to learn from her mistakes and not repeat them?

  Turning from the Princess attending court, or whatever the royals did when surrounded by nodding heads on thin bodies, Anjali began to walk deeper into the darkness of the wall. With the sun cresting fast, shadows seeped into the compound as dark as her flesh. The dwarves paced back and forth on their wall, but she knew that she couldn't be heard, her steps silenced out of habit as she vanished from sight.

  It took surprisingly little convincing from Rose that an assassin was coming for the Queen -- the woman merely shrugged. Perhaps receiving her son's body was enough. But the idea that the assassin would actually kill her, and soon, was a different matter. Nerazda waved them away with her hand, insisting that she required no guards, no help from the human princess or her tricky assassin. All she needed was to be left alone until the morning while communing in prayer over the corpse of her child.

  Anjali doubted she'd survive the night.

  Her fingers itched, her tongue practically tasting how perfect an opportunity this was. The camp in turmoil, most too busy watching the newcomers both inside and out the walls. Even if they didn't open the gate one more time it didn't matter.

  "I know you're here," Anjali whispered through her teeth, her head whipping back and forth in the encroaching darkness. She knew it because she taught it to her. Trained Tenna in how to use people against themselves. Sew questions, confusion, regrets -- make the target emotional and they miss the obvious until it's too late.

  She should have known. Tenna was...it was a foolish choice to elevate her. To rescue her. To, to fake finishing the contract and invite her into the fold instead. She thought she saw potential in the dwarf's crystal blue eyes, but all that lurked inside was madness. Tenna hid it well, masked it under obvious pain and fear. Spoke the right words, bided her time with the best of them, until Anjali was too stupid to see the truth.

  She created the viper in their midst, and Anjali feared the only way to stop it was to take the brunt of the poison on herself.

  Rosie hadn't spoken much to her since accepting the assassin back into the fold. Poor Baby Knight looked as if he wished to flay her flesh off instead of the dead wolf's, his eyes narrowed to slits while the knife tugged apart meat. And Rose, her Sapheela, her... They lay near each other, the Princess insisting that the assassin
be watched in case something else bad happened. That was her reasoning and she gave no other, not even to Anjali.

  But she let her sleep in the same tent, along with all the other handmaidens. Those flippant girls with minds of fluff all faded fast but Rose twisted and turned in the night. Anjali couldn't see her, but she could feel her the way she knew her own heart. When Rosie landed upon her side, her emerald eyes tearing through Anjali, the breath stopped in the assassin's throat.

  "I'm sorry," was all she could mouth, her mind reeling at the implications of what was to come.

  Beautiful Rosie, a woman whose outer form was as soft and warm as her perfect breasts, but with an inner core of pure steel, turned over. She slapped both her hands under her head, the grey shadows lifting higher, before she muttered back, "I know."

  That was all Anjali had. Perhaps all she ever deserved. They were in this mess because of her, because she didn't...she didn't trust the princess enough with the full truth. Maybe she didn't trust herself with it either.

  Rubbing a hand along the scarf in her hair as if that might restart her dribble for brains, Anjali froze at a shadow darting from one edge of the wall to another. It leapt not like a dwarf on a patrol, but someone attempting to blend from one dark corner to another. But in doing so, a glint of moonlight lanced upon the dwarf's black and red outfit.

  Anjali hissed inside her mind, "I see you."

  She unsheathed her daggers silently, a breath tucked tight in her lungs while she chased after Tenna. The woman must be growing careless so close to her goal, the moonlight easily highlighting her far too black clothing. Hunched tight, the dwarf stepped behind the back of the dwarves little house atop their under-city. Her head tipped back, eyes sizing up the possibilities of how to break in.

  People thought they could make their homes impenetrable using the thickest stones, hardest woods, and largest locks. They forgot that the easiest way to slip in was often by greasing the right palm. Was that how Tenna returned? It seemed unlikely she used the sister's assumption, no matter how certain she was in being able to climb the walls.

  It doesn't matter, focus on the here and now.

  Slipping into the darkness behind her, Anjali eyed up the dwarf as she unhitched a rope off her belt and began to swing the end. When the hook caught on the roof, Tenna gave a tug. She moved to place a foot onto the wall, when Anjali sighed.

  Tenna's shoulders locked up tight, her head whipping back to spy the woman with both daggers extended to strike her down. "Well," she let go of her rope and fully turned towards Anjali. "Here I thought they'd have strung you up by the neck by now."

  "You," she narrowed her eyes, the blade Tenna stole to kill her brother reflecting back the murderer's own eyes. White as the sky before a storm rolls in, Tenna kept both trained upon Anjali. "What are you doing?"

  "Isn't it obvious? What I've been planning since my people fell," Tenna hissed, slapping a hand into her chest.

  "Don't do this," Anjali shifted her weight onto her back leg, her eyes trailing the dwarf who let her hands drift into her coat. "Forget your schemes here. Revenge, it's...it's hardly worth it."

  "You were the one to teach me, to hone that fire. That was your favorite little aphorism, yes? Let it kindle something in you. Well, Anji," she tipped her head to the side and, smoother than butter, Tenna unsheathed her blade. "Come, revel in what your hard work has accomplished."

  She leapt forward, her dagger clanging into the sword. Tenna had the reach, but Anjali had the height. It would be easy for her to draw the dwarf out and stab her right through the neck, same as she did to her brother. Easy...

  "Stop this," Anjali said, her hands vibrating from the sting of bouncing off the dwarven made sword. It was a wonder anything could stand up to that craftsmanship.

  "Stop it?" Tenna cracked a smile, "Whatever for?"

  "You've bloody well lost. Get out of here! I can...I can cover for you. Say that, that I spooked you away. Lead them on the wrong path."

  Those hard blue eyes, colder than the tips of a mountain, flattened in rage. Tenna snarled at the option put before her, that fire Anjali was often stoking threatening to burn them all to cinder. Suddenly, she froze and began to laugh. "Silly Anji, you think you can fix this. Same as in Kont-Arr. Two brothers look so similar, can you blame me for getting it wrong?"

  Anjali struck fast, her arm slicing towards Tenna's exposed wrist, but the dwarf surprised her. Moving with a speed she never saw in all their travels, Tenna slashed upwards right towards Anjali's heart. It was only a breath's save that the woman danced backwards, the blade biting against her side and nothing more mortal. Tenna wasn't going to go easy, she wanted everyone dead. Even those who...who called her friend.

  "I don't want this fixed. I don't want it waved away. I want vengeance," Tenna hissed, her slashes growing more erratic as the rage took over.

  "Vengeance helps no one!" Anjali shouted, barely blocking the last. This was getting out of hand. She knew all these moves, but she was too chickenshit to take the woman down. You wanted to help her, to protect her. You would have lied for her, even to...

  Tenna paused in her attacks and snickered, "Call it justice, then. Whatever helps you sleep at night, madam assassin."

  "I never tried to kill my mother," she gasped, well aware of the hot blood slicking up the skin of her stomach. It wasn't much, yet, but if she kept dancing around it'd get worse.

  "So it's my fault you never had any backbone to do it? I don't want you to rescue me, Anji. I never did. I just needed you to help. And I was more than happy to let it at that, but not you. No, you had to go and wedge yourself into the middle of my shit."

  Silver lashed out of the darkness which Anjali deflected without thought, Tenna's blade patterns beginning to show. Despite the training, and her being an excellent student, Tenna was never the best at one on one. She fell back to three or four moves, certain that was enough. An overhand would come next.

  Sure enough, Anjali caught it with her crossed daggers and shoved the blade's edge away. The move sent Tenna teetering back, her sword tumbling towards the ground. "I had it. I found the bastard who..." she rubbed her chin ruthlessly before spitting on the ground. "But you were there. What were you doing, I wondered? How much did you tell those people guarding my brother? How much did he figure out? Bastard was always quick and careful."

  Tenna yanked off her hood revealing her ice white hair that glinted almost as silver as her sword in the massive moonlight. She quirked her head to the side like in a laugh back at any old drinking hole countries away, "So I figured, I'd get you both in one shot. There were so many times I could have taken Vedrick down. The whore house, those ladies know how to dispose of an unwanted body. The lake, someone drowns no surprise there. But you'd say something, you'd figure it out. And then they'd know and warn her."

  Spinning on a heel, Anjali lifted her dagger high. It'd stick right into Tenna's eye, but the dwarf predictably raised her sword to stop it. At that Anjali lashed out with her spare foot, knocking right behind the dwarf's knee. Tenna clattered to the ground, her sword crumbling to the dirt. Fast, Anjali lashed her foot on top, pinning it in place.

  Tenna gazed up, her ice blue eyes staring through to Anjali's soul as the mentor, the friend, the woman looking for a similar soul in this world drew her blade against the dwarf's throat. "Let it go," she breathed, "or I will finish this."

  The dwarf swallowed a bit, her lips pursing tight before she glared dead set at Anjali. "No," she shouted, her fist flying through the air.

  Smoke exploded from the ground biting into Anjali's exposed eyes that'd been trying to keep track of the assassin. She stumbled away, pawing at her face but the wretched stuff clawed its way up her nose and into her lungs. Breath sputtered in bursts, air unable to make it through the rising fog. Her brain screamed in fear that she was going to suffocate, and her eyes popped from her skull in the struggle to find a single breath of useable air.

  Before she could even begin that trip down memory lane
to find where all in her life went wrong, the white smoke began to clear. It didn't fully vanish, but through the tears Anjali could look up fast enough to see that Tenna was gone. She glanced at the rope left dangling on the roof. There was no dwarf trying to scurry up it. The blighted thing was a decoy. Tenna was going to force her way in -- right were Rosie was!

  "Fuck!" she cursed. Forgetting the burning inside of her lungs and veins, Anjali broke into a run. Both daggers spun in her fingers, the curve trailing her arms as she whipped them into place. There was no more playing nice; if she had an opportunity to take Tenna down...she had to do it.

  The little Ferelden camp was rather festive, a few paper lanterns hanging off the sides while girls all sat curled up on straw-bales. They were singing a happy song about trees, or turnips, or whatever, it was hard for her to translate, when every voice faded at the sight of a bleeding, gasping, mad as hell assassin running into their small party. She glanced from one gasping mouth to another, trying to ferret out the traitor, not that the girls were helping.

  "Anjali?" a voice whispered in concern.

  For a moment, the assassin all but dropped to her knees in prayer. Rosie was safe. She stood beside her little planning table right before the big door. If they could just barricade it, then...

  A shadow lurched out of the darkness, its blade swinging fast for the Princess. Anjali didn't have time to explain, or even think. She leapt forward. To all watching, it appeared as if the assassin snapped and was planning to mow down the princess with her own daggers. Even Rosie lifted her hands, her face wincing at the inevitable, when Anjali just caught Tenna's blade and wrung it back.

  Reverberations of metal smacking into metal made the very air sing, Anjali staring deep into Rosie's emerald eyes. "Are you...?" she began to reach for her Sapheela to make certain she was okay, when Tenna lashed back again.