The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) Page 22

  Fabian continued to stare at her then gave a short laugh, ‘I suppose you are actually my wife now.’

  Mistral blinked, it was the first time she had been referred to as his wife. It sounded somehow alien and completely unconnected to the way she felt about him.

  He began walking swiftly again, breaking into a run up the steps into the Entrance Hall. Mistral tried to run after him and stumbled over her dress. Swearing under her breath, she picked herself up and suddenly felt Fabian’s hands around her, swinging her up into his arms.

  ‘Is this the traditional way to be moved around when you’re a bride?’ she enquired humourlessly while he ran up the steps carrying her as easily as though she were weightless.

  ‘Only over the threshold of the marital home and I sincerely hope that you are not going to be living in your dorm room for much longer.’ Fabian muttered.

  Mistral sighed and laid her head against his shoulder, ‘I did try Fabian. I spent the last two weeks staring at Serenity’s aura for eight hours a day.’

  ‘I know.’ Fabian said more gently. ‘Leo told me.’

  ‘Did you ask Leo to keep me out of training until our wedding?’ she suddenly asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Fabian looked at her, not a trace of guilt in his eyes. ‘I didn’t want you to be married in the Infirmary.’

  Mistral smiled and laid her head back against his shoulder, breathing in the heady scent of his skin. He opened the door to her room and Prospero immediately bounded past them to leap onto the bed and stretched out with a sigh.

  Fabian set her down then walked over to the door. He closed it slowly then remained there with his back turned. In the silence that fell Mistral felt her heart suddenly accelerate. They were alone together for the first time in their married life. She was abruptly aware of the privacy afforded by the small room and the closeness of her bed. The atmosphere in the room suddenly tightened, crackling with unseen energy. She watched him take a deep breath before slowly turning to face her, his black gaze meeting hers with breath-taking force.

  ‘Um, it’s the gold ribbons. Here –’

  Not trusting herself to look at him, Mistral turned her back and listened to him walk towards her. Every step was measured and slow. He paused then she felt him tug at the ribbons. Loosening the bow first he slowly began to unlace the bodice. He was standing so close that she could feel the heat of his body and hear every breath he took. A shiver ran through her when his fingers grazed the bare skin of her shoulders, trailing down to deliberately trace the exposed line of her spine. All thoughts of the impending battle, of Sight of absolutely anything outside of that moment were completely obliterated from her mind as Fabian’s hands slid over the bare skin of her back. With a sharp intake of break she spun around. Now. It had to be now.

  A fist hammered loudly on the door. Leo’s voice shouted Fabian’s name and he was gone, leaving her blinking dazedly at the closing door.

  The Battle of Holdridge

  A soft knock snapped Mistral out of her daze.

  ‘Mistral? Do you need a hand getting out of your dress?’ Phantasm’s voice called through the door.

  ‘Um, no. I’ll be out in a minute!’ she called back quickly.

  There was a brief silence then Phantasm’s muffled voice called through the door again, this time with a slight edge to it.

  ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘Well, Prospero is with me,’ she replied, casting a rueful glance at her dog sprawled across the bed.

  The door opened suddenly and Phantasm’s blonde head poked around the door, his eyes raking the room suspiciously.

  ‘Phantasm!’ she cried, grabbing at the top of her dress.

  ‘Just checking.’ he looked the room around again. ‘Mage De Winter looked like he was going to eat you earlier.’

  Mistral glowered at him but didn’t reply. She was rapidly becoming sick of people insisting on keeping her and Fabian apart for the sake of some gift she seemed completely unable to master.

  He looked at her accusingly, ‘So how did you undo your dress then?’

  Mistral glowered at him, ‘None of your business!’

  ‘He was here wasn’t he?’

  ‘We are married damn it!’

  ‘So where is he now? I can’t believe he had the will power to stop.’

  Mistral’s temper snapped, ‘What are you? My father? Yes he was here and yes he undid my dress and he would damned well still be here if it wasn’t for that interfering, over-ambitious tyrant –’

  ‘That’s no way to talk about your new brother in law.’ Phantasm chided softly. He stepped into the room and began to move around, quickly gathering up items and throwing them into her saddlebag.

  ‘Oh! Please, no! I’m related to him now!’ Mistral wailed, sinking onto the bed and collapsing against Prospero. ‘I’ll never be free of him!’

  ‘Come on, I’ve packed for you, now all you need to do is get dressed.’

  Mistral looked at Phantasm, her expression abruptly miserable, ‘I’m never going to have a life with him am I? It’s always going to be like this … interrupted moments and endless longing.’

  Phantasm placed her saddlebag carefully by the door and propped her swords up against it before turning to face her.

  ‘I know this is hard for you and all I can say is if Sight was that easy to master then the Isle would be overrun with Seers all happily selling their services to the highest bidder. But nothing that is worth having is easy to obtain Mistral, you know that.’

  Mistral stared at him. She knew he was talking about more than her achieving Sight. He was talking about her and Fabian.

  ‘Brother?’

  ‘Yes?’ he asked, his emerald green eyes meeting hers.

  ‘Er, can you sort my hair out? Only I’m not sure it’s an entirely appropriate hairstyle to wear into battle.’

  ‘Of course.’ Phantasm walked over to sit beside her and began to pull pins from her hair, letting it fall loosely around her shoulders.

  ‘Phantasm?’

  ‘Yes Mistral?’

  ‘Thank you. It was the happiest day ... well, couple of hours, of my life.’

  ‘You are welcome.’

  Phantasm left her to change into her familiar black trousers and shirt. Adding a jerkin for extra protection and then her armour, Mistral finally tightened her knife belt around her waist then whistled Prospero and opened the door. It was time to go.

  Striding down the corridor towards the stairs, Mistral heard a voice behind her.

  ‘So how’s it feel to be tied down Mistral?’ Xerxes called, emerging from one of the rooms.

  Images of gold satin ribbons instantly filled Mistral’s mind.

  ‘Frustrating.’

  Ignoring Xerxes’ burst of laughter she ran lightly down the stairs to the Entrance Hall, joining the flow of warriors hurrying down the path towards the stables. She arrived to find Fabian, dressed in black again, waiting for her in the stableyard holding Cirrus and Spirit; both horses looking fearsome in full battle armour.

  She reached out to take her reins and paused with one foot in the stirrup, speaking in a voice only he could hear, ‘I want you to know Fabian, that one fateful day someone isn’t going to interrupt us.’

  ‘I willingly accept my fate.’ Fabian smiled and leaned across to kiss her.

  She accepted his kiss then threw him a look and dug her heels into Cirrus’ sides. Together they joined the stream of horses being ridden out into the village square to await Leo’s arrival. The horses picked up on the tension emanating from their riders and milled nervously in the square, filling the silence with stamping hooves and champing bits.

  ‘There’s something I don’t understand.’ Mistral hissed while she fought to control Cirrus. ‘How has Leo received word of the Rochforte’s intentions if Mage Grapple isn’t back yet?’

  ‘The Divinus hears Eximius’ thoughts.’

  Mistral looked shocked, ‘Does Mage Grapple know he’s being spied on by the Divinus?’

  Fa
bian laughed quietly, ‘Of course he does Mistral! Eximius knows that the Divinus will listen to his thoughts whether he permits it or not. It is easier for him to willingly accept the intrusion and in return he simply asks the Divinus to inform the Council of any important events when he is away from the Isle – situations exactly like this one to be precise.’

  Mistral fell silent while she absorbed this startling piece of news. She was impressed by the power of the Divinus’ ability to be able to hear the thoughts of anyone he chose despite the fact that they could be hundreds of miles away. With a sudden burst of dismay she wondered if that would be expected of her when – if – she ever achieved Sight. Mistral grimaced. She didn’t particularly fancy being some kind of remote receptor for Mage Grapple’s thoughts. He didn’t look like he had many amusing ones.

  ‘Warriors! We ride overnight to the port of Holdridge! We should arrive by dawn. Expect to enter battle immediately.’

  Leo addressed the teeming Square from the back of a huge bay warhorse. Sunlight glinted off the shining chestplate of his armour as his horse wheeled excitedly. Checking it easily with one gloved hand he raised his sword with the other, his icy blue gaze sweeping the mass of silent warriors.

  ‘We will be fighting for the Isle! For the right to live without persecution! For freedom!’

  The warriors roared their response. With his sword still raised high, Leo dug his heels into his horse’s side and galloped from the square.

  Mistral rolled her eyes and muttered to herself under her breath, ‘Drama queen.’

  Fabian held Spirit back tightly as horses surged past them, galloping after Leo up the path to the North Gate.

  ‘You know, of course, that he is now your brother-in-law.’

  Mistral nodded wearily, ‘Well, you know what they say. You can’t choose your family.’

  Fabian smiled, ‘I think I just chose my latest member.’

  Mistral and Fabian let the other warriors gallop on ahead then rode out the Valley together. Leo was setting a hard pace, leading the Ri across the meadows at a gallop to head for the trail that would lead to the cliffside path skirting around the west of The Velvet Forests and take them on towards the Port of Holdridge. The mood of the Ri army was one of urgency. For them to enter a battle against an army of Mages already in position would be tantamount to suicide. To stand the smallest chance of winning, or even survival, they must reach the Port before the Rochfortes docked.

  Mistral had never fought against sorcerers before and couldn’t help but be apprehensive about how powerful the Craft was as a weapon. Would their armour offer enough protection to fight? Mage Grapple’s spell had knocked her flat and she had been wearing her armour then. She turned to voice her fears to Fabian and saw with displeasure that Leo had let his place at the front to fall back and ride with them.

  ‘There is much we need to discuss.’

  ‘I can go ride with my brothers.’ Mistral offered and quickly pulled Cirrus back.

  ‘No.’ Fabian halted her escape with a frown. ‘I think I would prefer you to stay near to me. There is nothing you cannot hear.’

  Mistral caught Leo giving Fabian a look that clearly said he felt differently. In any event he didn’t argue and pulled his horse closer to Spirit.

  ‘The timing of this is highly suspect.’ Leo began quietly.

  ‘I agree. Eximius could barely have reached France before the Rochforte army set sail.’

  ‘It is far more likely that the whole business was pre-arranged.’ Leo muttered darkly. ‘Antoine was sent like a lamb to the slaughter to give the rest of the Rochfortes a reason to attack the Isle when they knew Eximius would be absent.’

  Fabian scowled, ‘There’s only one person I know with enough paying influence to do that.’

  ‘Putreo?’

  ‘Who else?’

  ‘Did he know you were taking Mistral to the Rochforte meeting?’ Leo asked sharply.

  Fabian shook his head, his face abruptly suffusing with hatred, ‘I think framing Mistral for Antoine’s murder was just a bonus to him.’

  ‘I agree. It seems to me that it was all planned anyway. Even if Antoine’s murderer had remained anonymous protocol would still have forced Eximius to accompany Antoine’s body back to the Rochfortes, leaving the Isle unprotected against their attack.’

  Mistral stole a glance at Fabian to see his face set in hard lines of loathing. His hatred of Count Putreo was so deeply ingrained that it was almost a part of his nature. Mistral couldn’t help but feel something of that hatred too, given her recent experience.

  ‘Will Putreo be at Holdridge?’ she suddenly asked, still keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the horse in front.

  Fabian and Leo both turned to stare at her. She felt two pairs of eyes boring into the side of her head; one jet-black the other ice-blue. She turned to meet them with what she hoped was a look of indifference.

  ‘As a Council official he will be obliged to defend the Isle.’ Leo snapped, irritated by her interruption.

  ‘Defend the Isle?’ Fabian’s lip curled with anger. ‘Putreo would fail to fight his way out of a silk purse! No doubt his new bodyguard will be there to do his dirty work for him again.’

  Mistral nodded, hiding her smile of grim satisfaction. So, she would have a chance to get even with Columbine.

  ‘We will be fighting on the same side as the Council, Mistral.’ Fabian reminded her sharply. ‘This is not the time for revenge.’

  ‘Of course not.’ Mistral said quickly, imagining exactly the opposite.

  ‘Excuse me please Mistral. I must speak with Mage De Winter and Master Sphinx.’

  Mistral was jolted out of her blood-soaked reverie by the curt tones of Gleacher Shacklock. She obligingly pulled Cirrus away to allow Gleacher to ride alongside Fabian, instantly engaging him and Leo in a long discussion about tactics for the battle.

  Mistral listened for a few minutes but quickly became bored and returned to her daydream of putting an arrow in Columbine. She suddenly heard her name being mentioned then the twins’ and quickly switched her attention back to their murmured conversation. It didn’t take her long to realise that Leo wanted her and the twins placed at the back of the battle formation, no doubt to protect his investment. Mistral listened, clenching the reins angrily. Leo had already interfered too much in her wedding day for her liking. She would be damned if he was going to prevent her from fighting ... and the chance to get Columbine –

  ‘Nice expression for a new bride to be wearing.’

  Mistral jumped and turned to see Phantom riding on her left.

  ‘What’s upset you?’ Phantasm murmured, riding up on her right to add. ‘Well, apart from having your wedding hijacked by a marauding horde of Rochfortes.’

  ‘Leo wants to put us three at the back, tucked away nice and safe where we won’t have a chance of doing anything with our swords other than hold them and look pretty!’

  Phantom gave a low laugh, ‘I sometimes wonder whether Master Sphinx knows you at all.’

  ‘I know. Does he actually imagine I’ll obey an order just because he’s deigned to issue it?’ Mistral muttered and glowered at their Training Captain, now talking seriously with Fabian and Gleacher about how best to deploy their elven-blooded archers. ‘D’you think he’s just pompous or terminally deluded?’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly answer that.’

  ‘Let’s go with both then.’ Mistral scowled and looked across the sea of armour-clad riders. ‘Where are the others?’

  ‘Behind us.’ Phantasm tilted his head to indicate where he meant. ‘Xerxes is running taking bets on who will kill the most Rochfortes.’

  ‘Tell him five for me, and I want a bonus if I get Columbine into the bargain.’

  Phantom shot her a reproving look, ‘I know it’s personal between you two, but this fight is not the time to be settling scores! We’re meant to be on the same side.’

  ‘You think that matters to Columbine?’ Mistral hissed scathingly.

  Phant
om pursed his lips, ‘Much as I hate saying this, you’re probably right on this one occasion. We’ll just have to keep an eye out for her.’

  ‘That might be difficult since Leo’s positioned us about a mile away from the battle!’ Mistral muttered sourly.

  They rode in silence for a few minutes. Mistral’s mood was not improved by the twins obviously trying to listen in on Gleacher’s conversation with Leo and Fabian.

  ‘I tell you what!’ she eventually snapped when Phantom bumped into her for the third time. ‘Why don’t you just take my place? You’ll be able to hear better!’ abruptly reining Cirrus back, she let them ride on without her.

  ‘Ah, the blushing bride, how lovely of you to join us!’

  ‘Xerxes. Make my quota a five and I want a bonus if I get Columbine too.’ Mistral snapped. ‘Oh, and make Prospero a two. I’m sure he won’t want to be left out.’ she added, glancing down at her huge dog pounding along beside them.

  ‘Straight to the point as usual.’ Xerxes laughed and quickly scribbled her name down on the tatty piece of parchment balanced on the pommel of his saddle.

  ‘Now, this is just my type of wedding celebration.’ Cain remarked cheerfully, passing her a battered silver hip flask. He caught her hesitant look and winked. ‘Don’t worry, this one is just good honest alcohol, no manticore poison!’

  ‘I could have done with some of that this morning.’ Mistral muttered and took a long swallow from the flask.

  ‘You got there in the end.’ Cain gave her a smile less like his usual teasing one then his grin returned. ‘Seriously though, this is a going to be great! A chance to legitimately batter some pompous, over-bearing Mages –’

  ‘Careful brother!’ Brutus warned Cain with a laugh. ‘Mistral just married one of those pompous over-bearing Mages we love so much!’

  Mistral didn’t react. She knew how deeply Ri warriors resented the Mage population’s assumed right rule simply because they were bequeathed with the Craft. Warriors sweated and bled to gain their abilities whilst sorcerers were simply born with their gift already established. It was the kind of natural injustice that made most warriors want to batter the nearest pompous over-bearing Mage into the ground.