The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) (76 page)

‘I adore you Fabian. 
Endlessly.  I would do absolutely anything for you.’  her gaze moved
over his face wonderingly.  ‘And I have no idea how I’m finding the
strength to do this, but if I don’t I’ll never master my gift, not while I keep
bending the rules all the time.’

‘Are you asking me to leave you?’
 he asked abruptly.

‘No.’  Mistral bit her lip,
hard enough to taste blood.  ‘Oh, what I want is so much worse than
that!  I’m actually selfish enough to want you to stay here, in the
Valley, with me ... but not with me.  How can I even ask that of
you?’  she stared at him, distraught.  ‘But I don’t think I can do
this without you.  Please understand Fabian.  Please say you’ll stay
–’

‘I could never leave you
Mistral.  To remain in the place where you are is no hardship for me.’
 Fabian’s fingers grazed her cheek.  ‘But I fail to see how placing
yourself in purgatory will help you focus.’

Mistral caught his hand and held
it against her skin, her eyes closed to stop the tears from falling, ‘How can I
achieve Sight when I have everything I want already?  I need to deny
myself the things I love to give me the incentive to master my gift and get
them back.’  She opened her eyes again.  ‘And more.  I want to
give us the life we should be living Fabian.’ 

Fabian suddenly pulled her into
his arms, holding her so tightly that she could feel every ragged breath he
drew, ‘However this ends Mistral, we will be together.  Sight or no
Sight.’

‘We have to be Fabian, because
that’s the only thing giving me enough courage to do this.’  Mistral
tilted her face up, her lips lingering against his before she stepped out of
his embrace.  She looked at him, her expression wary, her posture
tense.  Expectant of pain.  ‘I’m ready.’

His eyes met hers, cold and
distant as the stars, ‘Then, until you have the Sight, I banish you from our
house.’

She closed her eyes as a single
tear rolled down her face. 

‘And from my room on the third
floor.’  His voice was harsh, barely recognisable. 

She swallowed and blinked back
more tears, ‘And?’

A muscle jumped in his jaw, ‘And
I accept that I am forbidden from entering your dorm room.’

Mistral’s head jerked once in
response.  It was done. 

‘And now, I think you need to
have breakfast.’  Fabian took her hand, drawing her to his side to walk
along the corridor.

 ‘Well I never thought she’d
do that!’  Phantom exclaimed softly, lifting his head away from the door.

‘What?’  Phantasm enquired
lazily from his bed.

‘Banish her Mage from being alone
with her till she gets Sight!’ 

‘Really?’  Phantasm
yawned.  ‘She won’t last.’

Phantom pressed his ear to the
door again, ‘I think she really means it this time brother.  She’s even going
to ask Master Sphinx to stop her Training Contracts.’

‘Maybe Saul’s sacrifice won’t be
in vain after all.’  Phantasm closed his eyes and rolled over. 

July passed in a series of long,
hot days, each unnoticed by Mistral.  Her new regime was all she knew;
rising at dawn to eat breakfast in the Refectory with Fabian before heading
straight down to the Training Arena for the morning session.  Since Nereus
was still claiming to be suffering from his self-inflicted sword injury, most
sessions were overseen by Leo, but some were taken by Fabian who had reprised
his role of stand-in Training Lieutenant whilst staying in the Valley. 
Mistral would train until midday, hardly speaking and focussing purely on the
drills set.  Her lunch was a hurried meal, sometimes eaten with Fabian in
The Cloak but more often than not something he bought to her while they walked
to her next destination.

Her afternoons were divided
between helping Serenity in the Infirmary and studying brewing with Malachi in
his book-lined tower room.  Every Wednesday she would spend the afternoon
sat on the cold floor of the Divinus’ barren tower room, reading his aura and
describing her findings to him.  At first Mistral dreaded her sessions
with the mysterious Divinus, but she soon came to enjoy his quiet and
unassuming company.  The hours she spent in the austere calm of his bare
room afforded her a welcome respite from her grinding routine.  He would
listen to her describe his aura, occasionally offering  insights on her
findings or talk about the Sight, allaying many of the unspoken fears she still
harboured about her gift. 

Once her day had finished, she
would saddle Cirrus and ride with Fabian through the meadows before returning
to spend the evening reading auras in The Cloak whilst they ate.  Her
newfound dedication had even led her to venture into the dusty realms of the
library, returning laden with arms full of any books that so much as mentioned
Sight.  The heavy books lay on her bedroom floor, her sole companions
through the long empty nights.

Every Saturday afternoon she
would ride out of the Valley accompanied by Fabian.  He would stay with
her until they reached the edge of The Velvet Forests where Imperato, Dravite
and Faras would be waiting quietly for her in the shade of the heavy oak
trees.  Once they had exchanged respectful greetings Fabian would depart,
leaving Mistral alone with the centaurs to continue her study of the
stars.  Fabian’s deliberate display of trust in leaving was not something
he was entirely comfortable with, but had agreed to at Mistral’s
insistence.  To suggest that she would not be safe with three centaurs was
to risk causing serious offense to the fiercely proud tribe.

Mistral did not visit the
centaurs’ tribal home but travelled through the forests with them, riding
slowly and listening to Imperato describe the slow dance of the planets and the
effects their ancient movements had upon the Isle.  She soon realised it
was a subject so vast that a lifetime dedicated to its study might result in
some elementary understanding of the complicated theories Imperato spoke
of.  For the most part she simply enjoyed being with them, listening to
their wild, rough voices telling her stories of the Isle and the history of
their ancient race.

Mistral saw the twins little and
her brothers even less.  The twins’ initial excitement at Mage Grapple’s
assurances of Council work quickly faded when he repeatedly requested their
presence.  They were often absent from the Valley for weeks at a time,
returning full of complaints about the long ride and the even longer
meetings.  Even the usually starched-polite Phantasm had been heard to
mutter dark comments about Mage Grapple trying to wear out their gift before
they could charge him for the pleasure. 

Xerxes, Brutus, Cain and Grendel
had embraced the concept of work and taken a variety of Contracts that
scattered them across the Isle.  Mistral couldn’t help but suspect it was
partly to avoid her.  She missed their company, but was shamefully relieved
to be spared suffering the guilt of their accusing looks.  Saul’s death
still haunted her like a vengeful spirit.  Her days were so full she
barely had time to think, but her nights were endless.  Once Fabian walked
her back and completed his respectful goodnight from the doorway of her room,
she was alone with only Prospero and her thoughts for company.  Thoughts
which inevitably returned to her continued failure to master the gift Saul had
died for.  And to Fabian.  Always to Fabian.

He was being so patient; spending
his days either in the Training Arena or in long discussions with Leo and the
Divinus about the Rochfortes’ plans.  He spoke little about the meetings
and when pressed became evasive, fuelling Mistral’s guilty fears that he was
growing bored and frustrated.  She was frightened he would begin to resent
her for making him stay when he so obviously wanted to be gone, acting on
whatever information he gleaned from the Divinus’ readings.  Despite her
fears, Mistral could not bring herself to release him.  The time she spent
with him was beyond precious to her.  It was her reason for
existing.  She treasured every stolen moment, the seconds alone in the
Refectory before the apprentices arrived, a rare walk together, a touch, a
look.  They barely kissed anymore.  She dare not, afraid that her
resolve would less weaken than simply dissolve if she permitted herself that
one, forbidden act of love.

Study became her sole source of
distraction.  To her surprise, Malachi’s lessons afforded her the chance
to not only learn, but excel in the art of brewing.  She became adept at
identifying poisons and mixing up their corresponding antidotes, even devising
a few of her own that she looked forward to sharing with Cain.  She spent
many silent hours working in the subdued atmosphere of Malachi’s tower room,
but didn’t complain.  The work was interesting, and she had an ulterior
motive for spending so much time in Malachi’s charmless presence.  His
aura was still veiled to her by his vampire blood and reading it had become
something of a goal for Mistral.  If she could force her mind to penetrate
beyond the protection his blood offered then she would know for certain that
her hard work was at least starting to pay off.  Each time he was occupied
in a book or pacing thoughtfully, Mistral would abruptly halt mid-task and
focus on the air around his dark, close-cropped hair, straining her mind to see
more than just the vague misty threads of aura that lingered around his head.

August arrived, parched and
arid.  Mistral mastered the complicated and dangerous art of brewing
Theriac, learned how to pull teeth and could tell the seasons from the movement
of the stars.  She spent hours alone in the Main Hall poring over dusty
books detailing the lives of the Isle’s previous Seers, but the turgid
biographies offered little insight on how to actually develop the gift. 

September came and went and still
Fabian remained in the Valley.  His brooding presence was her guilty
pleasure, like a beautiful wild bird, caged and kept solely for her delight.
 

October turned the forests to
russet and gold and bought Mistral the joy of seeing her brothers all
return.  A rare Friday evening of fun lay before her in the form of an
ale-fuelled game of cards in The Cloak and Dagger. 

‘Still no Sight?’  Brutus
eyed her suspiciously, his cards held close to his chest.

Mistral gave him a cold look,
‘Just deal brother.’

‘Have you made any progress yet?’
 Cain swept up his cards and fanned them out, his question casual but
Mistral could sense the underlying meaning beneath his words. 

So what have you been doing
since June then?  Tell me Saul didn’t die just for you to swan around the
Valley doing nothing.  As usual
.

Mistral shrugged, ‘I can now read
all of your auras at the same time and you wouldn’t have a clue, oh, and I
actually managed to get a look at Malachi’s aura today.’

‘You did?’  Phantom leaned
across the table, his green eyes glittering.  ‘And?’

‘Well, it wasn’t completely
clear.  I had to do it while he was climbing up a ladder to retrieve a
book, so he kept looking down –’

‘Yes, yes, I’m sure it was a
nail-biting event!’  Phantom cut in impatiently.  ‘But what did you
see?’

‘He’s planning something
alright.’  Mistral’s eyes slid out of focus, gazing blankly across the
room while she recalled the vision of Malachi’s aura.  ‘Unfortunately I
can’t tell you what.’ she shrugged and picked up her tankard, taking a long
drink while Phantom continued to stare at her expectantly.

‘That’s it?’  Phantom looked
disappointed.  ‘Just “he’s planning something”?  No secret guilt or
hidden love?’

Mistral gave him an irritated
look, ‘No brother.  Not even a hint of anything vaguely salacious. 
Just lashings of good old fashioned greed and a frightening amount of purpose –
although, strangely, there was no impatience or frustration.’

‘So he’s biding his time.’
 Phantasm murmured then gave her a sharp look.  ‘Does Master Sphinx
know that you’ve read him?’ 

Mistral glanced disinterestedly
at her cards, ‘More than likely since I’ve told Fabian.  They’re up in
Leo’s room now, talking.  Again.’

The twins shared a look at the
note of bitterness in her voice. 

‘Ah yes, the on-going drama of
our scheming French brothers.’  Phantom abruptly tossed a card onto the
table, heralding the start of the game and diverting Mistral’s attention away
from her Mage.  ‘We’ve just spent a riveting fortnight stuck at the
Council listening to endless debates about their suspected plans.’

‘It was rather dull.’
 Phantasm agreed, dropping a card on top of his brother’s. 

‘Never thought I’d hear you two
say that about the Council!’  Xerxes remarked, smugly flicking an ace onto
Phantasm’s card.

‘Always straight in with the big
card.  So predictable.’  Brutus sighed and dropped another ace down.

Mistral studied her cards for a
moment then smiled and threw a pair of fives down, ‘Beat that Cain.’ 

‘Damn it!  How could you
know that I had no pairs or royals?’  Cain swore and slapped his hand
down.  ‘I don’t know why I bother playing cards with you Mistral! 
You’ve got such an unfair advantage!  I bet you’ve been reading our auras
the whole time!’

‘Not the whole time.  I only
read your aura when you picked your cards up.  I can’t help it if you get
depressed when you’ve got a bad hand –’

‘I knew it!  And they call
me a cheating hob!’  Cain shoved his chair back and stomped bad-temperedly
over to the bar, ignoring the laughter behind him.

The door to the tavern opened and
Eudora entered, pausing to wave flirtatiously over at their table before she
continued to the bar.  Mistral smiled when the twins shrank slightly in
their seats and hid behind their raised tankards.

 ‘Xerxes!’  Mistral
suddenly cried in a horrified voice.

‘What?’  Xerxes demanded,
trying not to look caught out.