Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (52 page)

At a certain bend in the path, overshadowed by
trees, I caught up to her. She gasped as I light-footed up behind
her, to lift and swing her suddenly in my arms. I landed her on her
feet and kissed her soundly. Why it felt so different to kiss her
out of doors and under the bright sun, I cannot say. I only know
all my troubles suddenly fell from me.

I made a sweeping bow to her. Will my lady join
me for a brief repast?

Oh, we cannot, she replied, but her eyes
sparkled. We'll be seen.

I made a great show of glancing about us, then
seized her arm and pulled her from the road. Beneath the trees
there was not much underbrush. I hurried her through the dripping
trees, over a fallen log, and past a patch of buckbrush that
clutched wetly at our legs. When we came to the cliff's edge above
the boom and susurrus of the ocean, we scrambled like children down
the rock chimneys to get to a small sandy beach.

Driftwood was piled haphazardly in this nook in
the bay. An overhang of the cliffs had kept a small patch of sand
and shale almost dry, but did not block the reaching sunbeams. The
sun shone now with surprising warmth. Molly took the food and
blanket from me, and commanded that I assemble firewood. She was
the one who finally got the damp wood to burn, however. The salt
made it burn with greens and blues, and it gave enough heat that we
both set aside our cloaks and hoods. It was so good to sit with her
and look at her out under the open sky, with the bright sun
bringing out glints on her hair and the wind rosying her cheeks. It
was so good to laugh aloud, to mingle our voices with the cries of
the gulls without fear of awakening anyone. We drank the wine from
the bottle, and ate with our fingers, and then walked down to the
waves' edge to wash the stickiness from our hands.

For a brief time we scrambled about on the rocks
and driftwood, looking for treasures tossed up by the storm. I felt
more like myself than I had since I had returned from the
Mountains, and Molly looked very much the wild maiden of my
childhood. Her hair came unbraided and blew about her face. She
slipped when I chased her, and stumbled into a tide pool. We went
back to the blanket, where she took off her shoes and hose to let
them dry by the fire. She leaned back on the blanket and
stretched.

Taking things off suddenly seemed a very good
idea.

Molly was not as sure of that as I. There's
fully as much stone as sand under this blanket. I've no wish to go
back with bruises up my back!

I leaned over her to kiss her. Am not I worth
it? I asked persuasively.

You? Of course not! She gave me a sudden push
that sent me sprawling on my back. Then she flung herself boldly
atop me. But I am.

The wild sparkle in her eyes as she looked down
on me took my breath away. After she had claimed me ruthlessly, I
discovered she had been right, both about the rocks, and her being
well worth the bruises. I had never seen anything so spectacular as
the blue sky glimpsed through the cascade of her hair over my
face.

Afterward she lay more than half atop me and we
dozed in the chill sweet air. Eventually she sat up, shivering, to
pull her clothing back around herself. Reluctantly I watched her
lace up her blouse again. Darkness and candlelight had always
hidden too much from me. She looked down at my bemused look, stuck
her tongue out at me, then paused. My hair had come loose from its
tail. She pulled it forward to frame my face, then set a fold of
her red cloak across my forehead. She shook her head. You would
have been a singularly homely girl.

I snorted. I am not so much better as a man,
either.

She looked offended. You are not ill-favored.
She traced a finger down the musculature of my chest speculatively.
The other day, in the washing courts, some were saying you were the
best thing to come out of the stables since Burrich. I think it is
your hair. It is not near as coarse as most Buck men. She twined
strands of it through her fingers.

Burrich! I said with a snort. You cannot tell me
he is favored among the women!

She quirked a brow at me. And why not? He is a
very well-made man, and clean and mannered besides. He has good
teeth, and such eyes! His dark humors are daunting, but not a few
would like to try their hands at lightening those. The washing
maids agreed that day that were he to turn up in their sheets, they
would not hurry to shake him out.

But that is not likely to happen, I pointed
out.

No, she agreed pensively. That was another thing
they agreed on. Only one claimed to have ever had him, and she
admitted he was very drunk at the time. At a Springfest, I believe
she said. Molly glanced at me, then laughed aloud at the
incredulous look on my face. She said, Molly went on teasingly, `He
has used his time well amongst the stallions to learn their ways. I
carried the mark of his teeth on my shoulders for a
week.'

That cannot be, I declared. My ears burned for
Burrich's sake. He would not mistreat a woman, no matter how drunk
he was.

Silly boy! Molly shook her head over me as her
nimble fingers set to braiding her hair up again. No one said she
was mistreated. She glanced at me coyly. Or displeased.

I still do not believe it, I
declared
.
Burrich? And
the woman had liked it?

Has he really a small scar, here, shaped like a
crescent moon? She put her hand high on my hip and looked at me
from under her lashes.

I opened my mouth, shut it again. I cannot
believe that women chatter of such things, I said at
last.

In the washing courts, they talk of little else,
Molly divulged calmly.

I bit my tongue until curiosity overwhelmed me.
What do they say of Hands? When we had worked in the stables
together, his tales of women had always astonished me.

That he has pretty eyes and lashes, but that all
the rest of him needs to be washed. Several times.

I laughed joyously, and saved the words for when
next he bragged to me. And Regal? I encouraged her.

Regal. Umm. She smiled dreamily at me, then
laughed at the scowl on my face. We do not speak of the Princes, my
dear. Some propriety is kept.

I pulled her back down beside me and kissed her.
She fit her body to mine and we lay still under the arching blue
sky. Peace that had eluded me for so long now filled me. I knew
that nothing could ever part us, not the plans of kings nor the
vagaries of fate. It seemed, finally, to be the right time to tell
her of my problems with Shrewd and Celerity. She rested warm
against me and listened silently as I spilled out to her the
foolishness of the King's plan and my bitterness at the awkward
position it brought me. It did not occur to me that I was an idiot
until I felt a warm tear spill and then slide down the side of my
neck.

Molly? I asked in surprise as I sat up to look
at her. What's wrong?

What's wrong? Her voice went high on the words.
She took a shuddering breath. You lie beside me and tell me you are
promised to another. And then you ask me what's wrong?

The only one I am promised to is you, I said
firmly.

It's not that simple, FitzChivalry. Her eyes
were very wide and serious. What will you do when the King tells
you that you must court her?

Stop bathing? I asked.

I had hoped she would laugh. Instead she pulled
away from me. She looked at me with a world of sorrow in her eyes.
We haven't got a chance. Not a hope.

As if to prove her words, the sky darkened
suddenly above us and the squall winds rose. Molly leaped to her
feet, snatching up her cloak and shaking sand from it. I'm going to
get soaked. I should have been back to Buckkeep hours ago. She
spoke flatly, as if those two things were the only concerns that
she had.

Molly, they would have to kill me to keep me
from you, I said angrily.

She gathered up her market purchases. Fitz, you
sound like a child, she said quietly. A foolish, stubborn child.
With a pattering like flung pebbles, the first raindrops began to
hit. They made dimples in the sand and swept across the rain in
sheets. Her words had left me speechless. I could not think of a
worse thing for her to have said to me.

I gathered up the red blanket, shook sand from
it. She pulled her cloak tight against the wind that whipped at it.
Best we don't go back together, she observed. She came close to me,
stood on tiptoe to kiss the angle of my jaw. I could not decide who
I was angrier at, King Shrewd for creating this mess, or Molly for
believing in it. I did not turn to her kiss. She said nothing of
that, but only hurried away, to scrabble lightly up the rock
chimney and vanish from sight.

All joy had gone out of my afternoon. What had
been as perfect as a gleaming seashell was now crushed bits under
my feet. I walked disconsolately home through gusting winds and
pelting rain. I had not rebound my hair and it whipped in lank
strands across my face. The wet blanket stank as only wool can and
bled red dye onto my hands. I went up to my room and dried off,
then amused myself by carefully preparing the perfect poison for
Wallace. One that would rack his bowels before he died. When the
powder was mixed fine and put in a twist of paper, I set it down
and looked at it. For a while I considered taking it myself.
Instead, I took up needle and thread to devise a pocket inside my
cuff where I could carry it. I wondered if I would ever use it. The
wondering made me feel more a coward than ever.

I did not go down to dinner. I did not go up to
Molly. I opened my shutters and let the storm spill rain across my
floor. I let the hearth fire go out and refused to light any
candles. It seemed a time for gestures like those. When Chade
opened his passage to me, I ignored it. I sat on the foot of my
bed, staring out into the rain.

After a time I heard hesitant footsteps come
down the stairs. Chade appeared in my darkened room like a wraith.
He glared at me, then crossed to the shutters and slammed them
shut. As he hooked them he asked me angrily, Have you any idea of
the kind of draft that creates in my rooms? When I didn't reply, he
lifted his head and snuffed, for all the world like a wolf. Have
you been working with baneleaf in here? he asked suddenly. He came
to stand before me. Fitz, you've not done anything stupid, have
you?

Stupid? Me? I choked on a laugh.

Chade stooped to peer into my face. Come up to
my chamber, he said, in an almost kindly voice. He took my arm and
I went with him.

The cheery room, the crackling fire, the autumn
fruit ripe in a bowl; all of it clashed so badly with what I felt
that I wanted to smash things. Instead I asked Chade, Does anything
feel worse than being angry with people you love?

After a bit he spoke. Watching someone you love
die. And being angry, but not knowing where to direct it. I think
that's worse.

I flung myself onto a side chair, kicked my feet
out in front of me. Shrewd has taken up Regal's habits. Smoke.
Mirthweed. El only knows what else in his wine. This morning,
without his drugs, he began to shake, and then he drank them mixed
with his wine, took a chestful of Smoke, and went to sleep in my
face. After telling me, again, that I must court and marry
Celerity, for my own good. The words spilled from me. I had no
doubt that Chade already knew of everything I told him.

I pinned Chade with my eyes. I love Molly, I
told him bluntly. I have told Shrewd that I love another. Yet he
insists that I will be paired with Celerity. He asks how I cannot
understand he means the best for me. How cannot he understand that
I wish to wed whom I love?

Chade looked considering. Have you discussed
this with Verity?

What good would that do? He could not even save
himself from being wed off to a woman he did not desire. I felt
disloyal to Kettricken as I said this. But I knew it was
true.

Would you care for wine? Chade asked me mildly.
It might calm you.

No.

He raised his eyebrows at me.

No. Thank you. After watching Shrewd `calm'
himself with wine this morning ... I let my complaint trail away.
Was that man never young?

Once, he was very young. Chade permitted himself
a small smile. Perhaps he remembers that Constance was a woman
chosen for him by his parents. He did not court her willingly, nor
wed her gladly. It took her death to make him know how deeply he
had come to love her. Desire, on the other hand, he chose for
himself, in a passion that fevered him. He paused. I will not speak
ill of the dead.

This is different, I said.

How?

I am not to be king. Who I wed affects no one
but me.

Would it were that simple, Chade said softly.
Can you believe you can refuse Celerity's courtship without
offending Brawndy? At a time when the Six Duchies need every bond
of unity?

I am convinced I can make her decide she does
not want me.

How? By being an oaf? And shaming
Shrewd?

I felt caged. I tried to think of solutions, but
found only one answer in me. I will marry no one except Molly. I
felt better simply by saying it aloud. I met Chade's
eyes.