Chapter Eleven
I tilted my head backso the sun could shine on my face, my hood falling around my shoulders. My mind whirled in dizzying circles as I tried to come to a decision.
I didn’t know them well enough to believe Whistler’s words. As much as I longed to, I couldn’t quite do it. My entire life had trained me otherwise. I trusted them to a point, and maybe he meant them, but he wouldn’t necessarily always feel the same way. He could change his mind. And then where would I be?
I stood and dusted myself off. The best plan was to wait and see how the business with the guards and other assassins shook out. No matter how much a large part of me wished to remain with them, another part of me rebelled against it. And that part was loud and frightened.
Sky stopped me before I could return inside. “Hey, doll. You all right?”
“Yeah. Fine.” I scrubbed at the dirt on my hands instead of looking at his still bare and gleaming chest.
He tapped my chin with his pointer finger. “In all my experience, when someone says they’re fine, they’re always the exact opposite.”
I shrugged. “Just trying to make some decisions.” I raised my head to see his face.
He was clearly tempted to question me further, but he swallowed it. “Want to learn a few fight moves?”
My brows shot high on my forehead. “Why?”
“Because if you leave us, you need a way to protect yourself.” He broke our gaze and swallowed hard.
I bit the inside of my cheek. It seemed like somehow I’d hurt him. “I’ve done all right so far.”
His eyes twinkled with returned good humor. “Yes, but you have royal guards and assassins after you.”
He had a point. “All right.”
“Have you had any training?”
“I’m fairly decent with a knife.” I fingered the dagger hidden up my sleeves.
“Show me.” He gestured to the small backyard to the left of Whist’s garden. “I have a target set up on the tree over there.”
It was nothing but a simple board with a target painted in the middle nailed on the tree. I slid my dagger from my sleeve and sent it whirling at the board.
It sank right in the middle.
Sky whistled. “You weren’t exaggerating even a little, were you, doll?”
“You doubted me?” I raised a brow at him with a smirk to match his own.
“A little.” He laughed. “Something I should know better by now.”
“Clearly.” Something about Sky’s company slipped past my boundaries and I let my guard down.
“Who taught you?”
“No one. I spend a lot of time alone and I recognized the need to defend myself. It isn’t much, but it has gotten me out of a few sticky situations.”
He clapped and rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. Since you’re already comfortable with a blade, I’ll teach you to knife fight. At least the basics.”
I slid the cloak from my shoulders and tossed it to the side on the grass. Excitement shivered through me. I’d always longed to learn fighting skills.
An evil grin spread across Sky’s lips. “I will not take it easy on you.”
“Good.”
Two hours later, I hobbled into the house, sore in places I didn’t even know I could ache. Saber greeted me at the door.
“I ran you a bath. Saw you out there training and thought your might need it.”
I almost melted right into a puddle of goo right there on the floor. Why was he so thoughtful and sweet? It made it really difficult to fear or dislike him. It made it almost impossible to continue keeping my emotional distance.
“Thanks. He wasn’t kidding when he said he wouldn’t take it easy on me.”
Saber chuckled. “He loves training. It’s what he did before we were chosen as assassins. He’s also the best at hand to hand and daggers, so he was the perfect teacher for you.”
“What are you and Whistler best at?”
“I’m best with swords and Whist prefers poisons.”
“That makes perfect sense.” Between Saber’s name and Whist’s love of gardens and cooking, their skills match them completely.
Saber held the washroom door open for me. “Do you need any help?”
Red spread from my cheeks and down my chest. “I-I’m good. Thanks.”
He inclined his head. “Of course, love. Take your time.” He closed the door behind him.
Steam rose from the surface of the water. Saber had even sprinkled lavender in the bath and the washroom flickered with candlelight. Dammit. What was I supposed to do with such thoughtfulness?
With only a couple winces and smothered yelps, I stripped off my clothes and climbed in the water. I hissed as I sank into it, the heat almost too much.
A moan slipped from my throat and I leaned against the back of the tub, the scent of lavender teasing my nose. The tension bled from my stiff muscles and I sighed in delight. Regular hot baths might have been the best reason to stay with the assassins. Such luxury was unheard of for me. I had the occasional lukewarm bath in the dead of winter when I was forced into inns and way-houses by the bitter elements.
I had a safe house of sorts of my own, but it didn’t have plumbing. By the time I heated enough water for a bath, it was cold again. My safe house was more a shack than a house. It was one room with a chimney and a mattress on the floor. But it kept me alive during the winter and no one alive had any idea where it was.
And it would stay that way.