The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams) (53 page)

Mistral awoke
in the faint light of breaking dawn and lay staring at her window, watching the
shadows in the room gradually shift from black to grey.  She lay curled up
and warm in her blankets, clinging to the blissful state of happiness that she
always felt for the first few waking seconds, when her dreams of Fabian were
still more real to her than the world outside the lightening window.  She
rolled over and groaned, waiting for the cutting pain of the daily realisation
that it had only been, and only ever would be, a dream.  A full minute
passed by before Mistral opened her eyes wide and the events of the previous
night came flooding back to her in a euphoric rush.

With a whoop
of sheer joy, Mistral leapt out of her bed and quickly grabbed a handful of
clean clothes before flinging open her bedroom door and running barefoot down
the corridor to the bathrooms.  If she was really, truly meeting Fabian
for breakfast then she was determined to look in the very least clean, if not
presentable.  After a brief but blissfully hot shower Mistral hastily
dried herself off and threw on her clean clothes before forcing herself to walk,
not sprint madly, back to her room.

She was about
to push open the door to her room when Mistral heard footsteps and looked up to
see a sleep dishevelled Golden undulating towards her along the corridor.

‘I’d be off
out early too if I had Fabian De Winter chasing me, he’s a bit old
for
you isn’t he?’  Golden sneered and made to push past Mistral on her way to
the bathroom.

Mistral
stepped in front of her, blocking her way and smiled, her eyes glinting
dangerously.  Golden had got away with so much recently.  It was time
for a little payback.

‘Is that the
best you can do Golden?  Or did you bump your head when you fell out of
Leo’s bed this morning?’

Grinning
widely Mistral pushed open her door and let it slam loudly in Golden’s shocked
face.  Admittedly, it had been a bit childish, but it was definitely a
step on the road to returning to her old self. 

Mistral was
off out the door fully clothed, boots on with her clean hair combed and left to
dry loose before the sun had fully risen over the eastern ridge of mountains. 
She didn’t care if Fabian wasn’t up yet, she would sit on the doorstep of The
Cloak and Dagger and wait for him.  Running lightly down the path to the
village Mistral felt a sudden burst of jittery nerves explode in her stomach. 
Overwhelmed by a feeling of unreality when she thought of the night before, she
slowed to a walk, battling fears that she had finally been fooled by one of her
vivid dreams and really had lost her mind. 

Well,
there’s only one way to find out
, Mistral thought with a shrug and began to
walk more quickly again.

Mistral paused
outside the familiar wooden door to The Cloak and Dagger.  She grasped the
same heavy iron latch that she had lifted so many times over the last year with
the strangest feeling that she was doing everything for the first time, like it
was all brand new.  Despite the earliness of the hour the door was
unlocked and Mistral stepped into the dim interior of the tavern.  She
halted, uncertain as to what to do next.  Should she ask Floris which room
Fabian was in?  Should she wait or go up? 

She looked
across the room and met the smiling gaze of Fabian, sat at the same table they
had occupied the night before.  She returned his smile and a strong
feeling of certainty instantly washed through her, quelling the butterflies
that had filled her only seconds before.  He stood up and walked around
the table to pull out a chair for her, inviting her to join him.  Mistral
felt that she could have vaulted every obstacle between her and that chair but
forced herself to walk calmly around the tables and chairs until she reached
his table.

‘Good
morning,’ he murmured in a voice of brushed silk.

Mistral looked
up at him and met his smouldering gaze, sinking wordlessly into the chair he
held out for her.  She watched him walk around to resume his seat opposite
her, listening to him politely enquired about her night’s sleep and somehow
managing to make the appropriate responses while all the time his eyes told a
different story.  They burned into hers, glowing as though lit by an
inferno and it was all she could do not to climb across the table and launch
herself into his arms.

‘What do you
have planned for today?’  Fabian asked after Floris had set a platter of
cold meats and a bowl of bread on the table.

Mistral
blinked and forced herself to concentrate, she had no idea what day it
was.  After a moment she realised that it was a Sunday; no training and no
Contract.

‘Nothing,’ she
replied.

Fabian gave a
satisfied smile and pushed the platter of meats towards her.

‘Good, because
I was hoping you would spend the day with me.  I would like to show you my
house, that is, if you would care to ride out there with me?’

Mistral felt
herself grinning, ‘I would love to!’

‘But first,
you need to eat something.  I’m quite taken by your bone structure, but
it’s a little too close to the surface of your skin at the moment.’

Mistral sighed
at the prospect of more force-feeding and picked at a slice of ham. 
Taking a small bite she suddenly found that she was absolutely starving.

Fabian watched
with an amused expression while she demolished most of the platter of meat and
half the bowl of bread.

‘When did you
last eat?’ 

Mistral
swallowed her mouthful and frowned as she concentrated on trying to remember,
finally shaking her head, ‘No idea,’ she admitted with a shrug.  ‘Whenever
I’m in the Infirmary Serenity forces some horrible gruel down my throat, so it
could have been then – ’ she stopped, catching the look on his face.

‘You’ve been
spending a lot of time in the Infirmary?’

‘Some,’
Mistral shrugged again and took a drink of water.  She set the cup of
water down to see Fabian frowning at her.  ‘What?’   

He leaned
forward suddenly serious, catching her hands and pulling them to him, ‘Promise
me you will take more care.  I could not stand to lose you now that I’ve
just found you.’

Captivated by
the intensity of his stare, Mistral could only nod wordlessly.

‘Say it,’ he
insisted.

‘I promise,’
she finally whispered back.

He smiled and
the intensity in his expression vanished.  ‘Are you finished?’ he asked
with an ironic lift of his eyebrow.

Mistral looked
in surprise at the demolished platter of meat, ‘I think so … have we got lunch
at your house?’

Fabian laughed
and stood up, ‘I’ll get something from Floris before we go.  I haven’t
been home in a while.’

While Fabian
spoke with the bartender Mistral stole a last piece of cold sausage before
getting to her feet and joining him at the bar just as Floris vanished into the
kitchen to prepare them some lunch.  Taking advantage of the empty room,
Fabian slid his arms around her and pulled her into a lingering embrace, only
breaking off when Floris coughed from the kitchen doorway.

‘Your lunch,’
he said shortly, dropping a parcel of food onto the bar top.

‘Thank you,’
Fabian murmured, utterly unabashed while Mistral felt her face go every shade
of red.

They left the
tavern and walked across to the stableblock, hand in hand.  Mistral felt
that her heart would burst right through her ribs with the sheer joy of such a
simple touch.  They didn’t speak while they saddled their horses and
Cirrus was unusually well behaved, perhaps sensing his mistress’ good mood for
a change. 

The village
was still quiet when they left a short while later, riding up to the North Gate
without seeing another person save the heavily cloaked guard on lookout duty at
the gate.  Once they were out in the snow-covered expanse of the meadows
they broke into a light canter, riding easily side by side.  Mistral
turned to ask Fabian a question and smiled to see the expression of contentment
on his face.  She was vividly reminded of their journey to the Amber River
when she had stolen glances at him out of the corner of her eye all day.

‘And where
exactly do you live?’

He looked at
her and grinned, his black eyes shining, ‘Not too far.  A couple of hours
ride at most.’

The snow that
had fallen overnight lay across the meadow in a soft white blanket, sparkling
magically beneath a pale blue sky.  It was a perfect winter’s day. 
Almost lazily, indulgently, Mistral called up the vision of Fabian’s aura as
they rode.  She was gratified to see bright yellow rings framing deeper
golds, all circling across a background of luscious pinks and pale blue;
happiness, joy, love, peace and – she blinked and grinned – a flash of deepest
ruby.

‘What are you
smiling at?’  Fabian asked curiously, catching her expression.

‘Nothing,’ she
replied quickly, but couldn’t quite conceal the grin spreading across her
face.  Ruby.  Desire.

‘You wouldn’t
be reading my aura would you?’  Fabian enquired, grinning roguishly.

‘Might have –’

‘That could
become inconvenient,’ he murmured.

‘Only if you
have something to hide.’

He gave her a
deep look, ‘I will never hide anything from you.’

‘Good job or I
might have to beat it out of you,’ she laughed and kicked Cirrus into a gallop.

They flew
across the meadow, spumes of snow spraying up from the horses’ pounding
hooves.  The cold air was so bitingly fresh against her skin that Mistral
gasped.  She didn’t think she had ever felt as completely alive in any one
single moment of her life as she did right now.

Spirit was
obviously enjoying having the company of another horse and consented willingly
for Fabian and Mistral to ride closely together.  They approached the edge
of The Velvet Forests and slowed to a walk.  Fabian reined Spirit in and
Mistral halted beside him beneath the spreading branches of a huge oak
tree.  They stood together, silently looking out across the soft white
landscape while the horses’ breath rose in misty clouds around them, swirling
in the crystalline air before dissipating into the clear blue sky.  

‘This is real
isn’t it?’  Mistral suddenly asked, gazing at Fabian wonderingly.

He turned to
look at her, his expression unfathomable, ‘Only if you want it to be,’ he said
softly and leaned across to kiss her.

They reached
Fabian’s house long before midday.  Mistral was silent, forcing herself to
absorb every detail of the journey.  She wanted to be able to travel there
again and committed every detail to memory. 

They rode
beneath a hayloft that formed a covered entrance to a courtyard of wide flat
stones.  A small stableblock on the left adjoined Fabian’s house, to the
right was a fenced paddock.  Mistral gazed up the house she had never seen
before in her life and was instantly overwhelmed with the strangest feeling of
coming home.

Fabian De
Winter’s house was a traditional mountain house built in the same familiar
honey-coloured stone as the houses in the Valley.  Deep-set windows reflected
the bright winter sunshine, each framed by its own set of wooden shutters,
pinned open.  The dark wooden front door was reached by a short flight of
broad stone steps above a cellar.  Hydrangeas grew wild at the base of the
steps, now dead and coated with white snow but in summer they would be a riot
of colour.  A grapevine wound sinuously up the side of the house,
stretching out over half the red pan-tiled roof, stopping just short of the
narrow chimney stack.

Fabian
dismounted and led Spirit towards the stable.  After staring wonderingly
at the little house for a moment longer Mistral followed him.  Once both
horses were settled, Fabian took her hand and led her wordlessly towards the
house.

He climbed the
steps ahead of her and let go of her hand to unlock the door with a large iron
key.  Pushing open the door he stepped back and smiled welcomingly,
gesturing for her to enter before him.

Mistral
stepped past him and into his house.  She walked slowly to the centre of
the large open room and turned in a circle, taking in the simple
interior.  The floor was wooden, stained to a dark shade that contrasted
with the whitewashed stone walls.  A scrubbed pine table sat further back
in the room in front of a small kitchen area.  A large black stove
surrounded by two mismatched shabby armchairs and a small sofa filled the main
part of the room.  Next to the stove a pair of tall narrow glass-fronted
doors opened up onto a long wooden balcony.  Even from inside the room
Mistral could see that the view from the balcony was breathtaking.  An
open flight of wooden stairs led up to a small gallery, tucked up beneath the
raftered eaves of the house.   

‘Do you like
it?’  Fabian asked quietly. 

She turned and
gazed at him.  He was leaning casually against the closed door, his
posture appeared relaxed but he was watching her expression closely.