The Assassin & The Skald: Liberation

by C. M. Lind

  Soli turned her head back to Randolph. He shrugged with a frown.

  “Right,” said Irene, clasping her hands together. “Please make yourself presentable. You’ll be leaving with Jae within the hour. Dress for light travel.”

  Soli walked to her door, fetching her key from her pocket along the way, without giving Irene a single glance. Lilane, thankfully, was long gone from the hall; her footsteps were masked by the plush carpet. Soli hated that carpet: how anyone could move throughout the manor without a sound—much like a hag of the bog, sneaking up on her prey in the night.

  “We do not have much time, unfortunately. Perhaps I could help by choosing some suitable garments for—“

  “No,” stated Soli. The key clicked in the lock.

  Irene’s brow rose. “Oh?” Her voice was drenched in incredulous surprise. “Are you sure?”

  Even with the carpet, somehow Soli could easily hear the sturdy Randolph take a few steps towards her, and she silently thanked him for his closeness. “You alright here?” he distinctly asked her—not Irene.

  Soli opened the door to her room. “Fine, Randolph. I’ll see you later,” she said as she stepped in, firmly closing the door behind her. She made a fist and mimicked slamming it into the door—right at the spot that Irene was standing next to.

  “Shouldn’t you be away, guarding something, dog?” Irene asked Randolph, revulsion spewing from her mouth.

  “Shouldn’t you be with Jae, with your nose up his ass?”

  Soli smiled, and she muted a burst of laughter with a well-timed hand.

  “You,” was all Irene could snivel.

  “Yep,” replied Randolph. “We going to keep doing this, or are you going to run off in a huff? I mean, honestly, at this point, I’m starting to think you’re a bit soft for big old me.”

  A high pitch whine seethed from Irene’s impotent mouth, and Soli imagined her as a gaudy, painted kettle steaming over a fire.

  “Run off with a huff it is then?” Randolph dryly chuckled. “My mother always said people should do what they’re good at, after all.”

  Soli continued to quietly laugh, but with both hands clasped over her mouth. Somehow, she thought after a few moments of laughter passed and she regained her composure, he always said the things she wanted to say.

  She pulled her helm free and set it on the nearby table with a sigh. She wasn’t looking forward to being a decorated doll for a lunch, especially with Jae, but she knew she had to do it, and in her mind she likened it to a child who had to do their chores—and Soli had always been her parent’s good, little girl. She tapped her helm with her fingers, wishing she, like a child, could have just played a little longer—but she couldn’t. After a deep breath, she pulled off her scale, and she tied her hair to the side to hide her scar until she could make it to the bathroom. On the way out the door, she grabbed a light, loose, pale beryl dress (the latest addition to her Avelinian wardrobe, courtesy of Irene) for after her bath.

  She slipped back into the hall, heading toward the washroom. It was only a few feet away, but ever since Jae had tried to let himself in, to put it diplomatically, it felt very far away. She laid her fingers upon the handle and suddenly her eyes shot opened. Someone was watching her—she was sure. She never knew how, perhaps subconsciously she had heard or seen something, or maybe there was a shift in the air around her. She whirled her eyes back to the hall, but no one was there.

  A normal person would have chalked it up to paranoia. A normal person would have felt embarrassed by such thoughts. But Soli had never thought of herself as a normal person. If she felt someone was there, then, undoubtedly, someone was there. She pulled her fingers free of the handle, and, in a few quick paces, she was down the hall and looking down the bend where Randolph and her had just walked a few minutes ago.

  Someone was there.

  It was Randolph.

  He nervously coughed as their eyes met.

  She tilted her head, just slightly, and her right hand, free of the burden of the beryl dress that her left held, went to her chest.

  He shrugged with a simple simper.

  She righted her head, dropping her hand to her side, but her eyes were still locked with his.

  He shrugged again. Breaking eye contact with Soli, he looked down the hall, and then he leaned against the wall.

  She nodded. He did not seem to notice, as his eyes were watching the hall—not her. She turned back to the bath. At least, she thought, she could bathe in peace again, knowing her own personal guard was on duty a stone’s throw away.

  Chapter 34

  Soli smiled throughout the ride. Her only company was with Lord Jae Reinout, who blathered about where they were going. She only appeared to listen to the man, nodding her head as needed or giving him an attentive “hmm” when it seemed appropriate.

  She kept her eyes outside the carriage. Randolph trailed behind, on the old mare that he always rode. She could barely see him, but she could hear the clop of his mare’s hooves behind them and Randolph repeatedly speaking to her as if she was a person. “Silvia, you’re a good girl” and “Silvia, you deserve an apple” were the most common of the phrases. She seemed to ignore his words except for when Randolph talked about apples. She would always whinny in approval about apples.

  Before they left, Randolph joined them unexpectedly. He practically forced Jae to accept his company on their outing. Jae maintained that he would be safe in broad daylight in a well patrolled part of the city. Jae also used the few house guards he had brought along as proof of his caution.

  Randolph wouldn’t hear it. He maintained that there was the possibility of a threat still existing, and that he had their man looking into it still. Soli never worried for Jae’s safety, and she doubted that Randolph did either. She knew Randolph was more there for her own safety than anyone else’s.

  Soli couldn’t hear exactly what the guards were talking about, but she was happy to have him along. She didn’t know the three guards that accompanied them, and they had no hint of warmth in their eyes. Even so, every clop of the hooves behind her made her feel a little bit safer.

  Being in Jae’s presence made her skin crawl, as if it simply wished to slither away from the man, but the most troubling part was the large fight Jae had put up over letting Randolph join. She wondered why Jae wasn’t more concerned with his safety until she turned onto Nacre Way.

  She had to admit, Jae was telling the truth about how secure the area they were going to was. The whole city seemed to change when they turned onto that street. Buildings were no longer pushed as close together as they could be. Instead, there were gardens, trees, and flowering bushes in between everything. Statues lined the paved road, and signs pointed out the Sovereign Garden ahead.

  Soli realized why she had never been to the street. City Guards stood watch, questioning those who entered. They were not questioned though. She saw a city guardsman nod at their coachman, and the man waved their carriage, and its entourage of guards, through.

  Jae took her to an inn. It was made of white-washed stone, and flowering vines climbed up the side sporting bright blue and fuchsia blossoms. The wide front walk, made of matching white stones, was flanked by large bushes with ball-like clusters of pale pink and white flowers. The only windows on the building were made of stained glass. They were geometric patterns of various shades of blue and green.

  The carriage stopped. The coachman opened the door for Jae, and Jae offered his hand to Soli. She took it, and he escorted her outside. Soli looked, but she couldn’t see any sign for the place they stopped at, and she wondered if that was the norm: that only those who already knew about the place were allowed in.

  The guards on horseback stopped as well, and they took their horses to the small open stable. Randolph joined them.

  “You will simply adore this place, my jewel.”

  Soli turned her head from the guards to Jae. “I’m sure I will.” She smiled.

  He offered her his arm, and she laid her hand on
the top of his. It was the way that Avelinians escorted unmarried ladies: enough to maintain contact, but never intimate enough to suggest they had a deeper relationship. Soli was happy that he didn’t try to suggest the latter.

  He started walking down the path, and Soli followed along with him. “It is my mother’s favorite. She always throws such a tantrum when I go without her, but I figured you and I could have this outing just for us.”

  Soli looked at the flowering bushes around her. She had seen them before, and she thought they were called hydrangeas. Non-native species, she recalled overhearing in the market once. A foreign plant that had become as Avelinian as an ice lily, and it didn’t seem to care that it didn’t really belong there. It was happy to be nothing more than pretty—and utterly Avelinian.

  “How kind of you,” she said.

  “Well,” he said with a smile, “I can be very kind, my jewel.” He placed his other hand on top of hers, and rubbed it gently with his thumb.

  “Sir,” Randolph called out. He cut through the hydrangeas to catch up with them.

  Soli glanced back, and she saw that he had left his horse in the care of the three other guards.

  Jae removed his caressing hand from Soli, and he sighed. “What is it?”

  “I’ll go in first to check it out.”

  “No, that is fine. You will all stay outside for our lunch.”

  Randolph’s eyes flickered to Soli’s then back to Jae’s. “But there could be—”

  “No worries, my man!” Jae laughed. “I have seen to it there will be no other patrons here today. No strangers to worry about!”

  “But—” Randolph tried to argue.

  Jae’s smile went tight, and Soli could feel the hand underneath hers clench slightly. “I said you will stay outside for our lunch.”

  Randolph looked back to Soli. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something to her, but nothing came out.

  Jae continued to walk towards the door, so Soli did as well, leaving Randolph behind. Jae opened the door for her with a proud smile, as if happy with what a gentleman he was being. It was similar to the windows, mostly made of turquoise glass with a thin trim of white wood. Beautiful, but not very practical in Soli’s eyes.

  The inside of the inn reminded her of the Reinout Estate. It was big and empty. Only one table remained in a large dining area. Soli noted the old depressions on the floor, and she figured that at least thirty such tables normally filled the large room.

  The only main difference, she noted, between the place and the Reinout manor was the color. The inn’s walls were the same white-washed stone as the exterior, and the carpet below was a rich cobalt. Sunlight streamed through the rippled, colored windows, creating the illusion of ocean water around them. Soli was reminded of the glass of the dome at the manor, except the Reinout dome contained no color. That glass merely distorted, but the panes at the restaurant attempted to mimic it in exaggerated, vivid colors.

  Jae was the definition of a gentleman as they settled into their lunch. He pulled out her chair. He had prepared musicians for the outing, and two old, skilled men played duets on a violin and a cello.

  Jae had already ordered drinks and food for them. After the music started, a waiter, who Jae appeared to recognize, brought them their drink selection. Three bottles.

  Jae smirked. “I was unsure what your favorite would be.” He motioned to the waiter.

  The handsome young lad, lean, well-groomed, and dripping with confidence, listed off the choices: spiced mead, maple mead, and blackberry mead. “All imported from the North,” he added hastily at the end.

  Soli put a hand to her throat. “I thought you couldn’t get that here.”

  “No, you cannot,” said Jae. “But I can.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  Jae hummed. “The blackberry it is then.”

  The waiter obliged, pouring them their drinks into silver plated wine glasses. He placed Soli’s down first, and Jae watched her glass intently.

  Jae raised his glass first. “To us, my jewel.”

  Soli took the glass in her hand. There were only twelve more days to the Jubilee, and then only a few more days of the contract after that. She took a deep breath, and then she clinked her glass against his.

  He didn’t speak until she yielded to his toast and they each had taken a sip. “Wonderful!” he seemed to say to himself. Jae shooed the waiter away.

  “It is delightful, my jewel, to be away from the responsibilities of home.” He took another sip, much deeper than before, and he gestured for her to enjoy the drink as well.

  Soli was unaware the man had any responsibilities. “Is it?” she asked.

  “Of course! I would choose a day spent in your delightful company over any day of listening to Etienne drone on and on about business this, mining that, so on and so on!” He shrugged with a chuckle.

  The whole business about the Reinout mines again, thought Soli. She had seen some writings about it in Etienne’s quarters occasionally. It seemed to be something that he had been working on for months at least. “Of course,” she said. “He can be very serious.”

  But at least he is kind, thought Soli. She could stand curious as long as there was kindness.

  “Too serious, if you ask me. The man needs to enjoy life!” He gestured to their glasses with a smile. “At least a little.”

  “Like you?” Soli took another sip of her mead. It tasted different than she had recalled as a child. But perhaps, she reasoned, it was nostalgia that made the mead of her past so much better.

  He chuckled; it was a half-suppressed laugh of nervous amusement. “I see what you mean, and, even then, yes. People should be more open.” He tipped his glass to her. “Especially those that are riddled with such burdensome seriousness.”

  She brought the glass to her lips again, but stopped before she took a sip. “You’re very different from your cousin.”

  “Why, thank you, my jewel!” He laughed again.

  She smiled and put the glass down.

  “You are very beautiful.”

  Soli kept her eyes on her glass, and her fingers fidgeted with it. “Thank you,” she said after a long pause.

  “Does Etienne pay you for any other services?” She heard him take a loud sip.

  “No.”

  “That is too bad. The man could use a woman in his life—even a paid one.”

  Soli took a breath, much louder than she had intended, while she played with the base of her glass, turning it around slowly. She noticed there was a tiny swath of white, like chalk, at the base of the glass. She touched it, and it felt fine, like powdered sugar, and she wondered if the kitchen had been a bit messy in their preparation of the meal.

  “I doubt he could afford you. He is not as blessed as me, after all.”

  “No,” Soli agreed, her eyes still on her glass. “You two are very different.”

  “I do have to wonder though, how much would a woman like you run? What would the price be up North?”

  Soli rubbed the powder that was on the tip of her finger onto the sea green tablecloth. His questions, and especially his tone, made her feel as if she was desperately in need of a hot bath. She crossed her legs. “There is no price, because there is nothing for sale.”

  “Are you sure?” he leaned in. “I am a very rich man.”

  She looked up at him. He was inches away, practically slithering over the table to her. She could smell his cologne: a hint of vanilla, musk, and pepper. It made her stomach knot. “I’m sure. There are no women for sale up there.” She leaned back in her chair to escape his scent. “No matter how rich you are.”

  “Yes.” he smiled. “Up there. I understand.”

  “And here,” she added instantly. “In Aveline, I mean, there are women who are simply not for sale.”

  “Like I said before, I understand.”

  “I’m glad you see my point.”

  He pulled his body back from the table and leaned back in his chair, recla
iming his glass as he did so. “It is a shame though. I love to see women happy, and all I try to do is make them so. I find that money makes them very happy, so you can understand my questions.”

  Her head felt foggy and unbalanced, as if struck with a bit of sudden vertigo. It was a sensation she had never felt before—at least without cause. “Not all women want money.” She blinked several times, taking a deep breath.

  He stopped mid drink. “Of course not!” He set the glass down and leaned forward again, apparently oblivious to her state. “I apologize if I have offended you! I understand that women have different needs and desires, even if they have a hard time knowing what those things are.”

  Soli’s instincts kicked in and she said it before she could stop herself: “There is no need to apologize.” She pressed her lips together, immediately regretting it.

  “You are so very kind, my jewel.” He reached forward to take her hand.

  Soli grasped her glass and held it to her lips before his hands could even reach hers. He pulled his hand back with a short laugh, returning it to his own cup.

  She sipped the mead, but, again, she thought it tasted off. And even though her brain told her to enjoy any taste of home, it only seemed to sully her memory of it.

  “Some women,” Jae mused, “they, as we discussed, find pleasure in money. In gifts of coin. The idea of security. Other women want romance, I find. Some women have more motherly needs: they want children. They are lonely, and they want a child of their own.”

  Soli felt herself gag at the thought of any woman wanting a child of his. She still felt foggy, and part of her was questioning whether or not the conversation was real—for it felt like a nightmare. She set the glass down, and she stared at it.

  “Most want to be wooed. They want a man to chase after them. To properly romance them and subdue them. These women get the gifts, the sweet, intimate rendezvous, the chocolates—these women must be earned. You put in your time, and then you pluck your reward.”

  “You speak of such women,” interrupted Soli, unable to stomach more of his expertise, “as if they are a not women at all, but more of a deer, and you are their hunter.” There was a tremble in her hands. She put them in her lap, to hide them from Jae.