Calilla pulled her veil back up to obscure the lower half of her face as she watched him depart. Normally, she would never have considered being so uncouth as to reveal her face in sunlight, but the circumstances had called for something unusual, something drastic.
He had come to her today after many months apart. The long absence was not his fault, of course - he had his work, and she had hers. Both professions called for prolonged periods away from Bree-land and even if hers was merely a way by which to appear permissible to the Westerners, his truly was legitimate.
Their last meeting had been full of hope. He had spoken of reservations, but still it had ended with a mutual acknowledgement of desire and a kiss that had set her pulse racing in a way that no other had. This one, however, had been anything but that. He had been aloof, tense and adamant in his resolve. Despite her efforts to change his mind, deep down she knew that he would not. Right or wrong - and she believed him to be incorrect in his findings - that decision was not hers to make.
One last kiss to his cheek and he was gone. The relationship that they had both wished to explore was over and she was truly alone once more.
Calilla moved over to her horses. Warm and fuzzy, they nuzzled at her as if in consolation. She felt the need for that comfort although she did not understand it. In her experience, love was a lie, a tool to be used to manipulate and ingratiate oneself with a target. Feelings were for those who knew no better, those who were foolish enough to make that mistake and those who could afford vulnerability.
Had she been so foolish, she wondered. Had she allowed herself to feel so deeply for the man? She felt something for him, that much she knew, but what it was was beyond her emotional grasp. After months of no contact, after being told to keep their association a secret, after all this time of being fully aware that she engendered as much shame as desire in him, why did she feel such regret that it had come to an end? Was that a spark of anger that he had given up so soon? Was that sorrow for what could have been?
So engrossed was she in her inner turmoil that she almost did not notice when one of the horses whickered softly. Almost too late she turned, slipping the small blade from her left sleeve. She barely raised it in time to deflect the blow directed by the figure dropping from the branch above. The horses scattered, leaving Calilla to face her assailant - a woman dressed in dark hued silk, her head and face covered in the same manner as her own.
"Traitor!" the woman hissed.
Calilla kept her silence as she carefuly circled to the right, slipping the second blade from her right sleeve. The woman followed her step for step, keeping herself opposite at all times.
"This one saw her with the Rohan man," the woman continued venomously, eyes narrowing with an unmistakable hatred for both the man and those who would associate with his kind.
Calilla again remained silent. Several seconds passed before the woman sought to strike once more. A lunge was deflected. Calilla, more experienced and often called upon to defend herself, spun low as a roundhouse kick came her way. Stretching out one leg, she caught the woman in the ankle with her foot, knocking her opponent to her back. Springing forth with a startling speed, she pressed the blade of her left hand against the woman's throat.
"This one was a traitor long before she knew him," she replied coldly but a heartbeat before slipping her second blade neatly between the woman's ribs.
The deed done, Calilla pulled the veil from the woman's face. There, lying dead upon the cold ground, was someone she had known for so very long; a sister of the Harem. Still, Calilla felt nothing; no pity, no remorse and, unfortunately, no catharsis.
Dispassionately, she stripped her sister assassin of her weapons, trinkets and any materials that could be sold on, wrapped the body in a cloth and awkwardly dragged it up onto the saddle of the nearest horse. Night would soon fall, offering a perfect cover under which to take the corpse to her favoured place of disposal; the spiders nests of Chetwood.
Perhaps, she mused, this would be a good time to depart Bree-land again. If one had found her, others would come. She had no reason to stay here now. Aeva had long since departed, Seaver was no longer of interest and no one here liked or trusted her enough to name her friend.
No.
Calilla had no wish for death - a life of freedom offered so much more to be explored than she had yet discovered - but she had long since tired of running from her past. Let them come, she decided. With or without him, this one will stand her ground until she can stand no more.
