Chapter 3 Scarlett
CHAPTER 3
SCARLETT
S carlett awoke to a knock on her door. She looked at the delicate clock on her nightstand. Five in the morning. Who was knocking on her door at this godsforsaken hour?
“Miss Monrhoe?” a maid called.
“Yes?” Scarlett answered, barely awake.
“A message arrived for you from Captain Renwell.”
“And you felt the need to deliver it before sunrise?” Scarlett asked, the annoyance hard in her voice.
“I am sorry, Miss, but Captain Renwell delivered it himself and demanded I forward it immediately.”
Scarlett sat up at that. He had been here already this morning? Surely he did not expect to train her now? She grabbed a silk robe that had been draped over a chair and answered the door as she slid it on over her silk nightclothes. “Is he still here?” she demanded.
The maid nodded her head. “Yes, but only until I come back to tell him I have delivered the message, then he will depart with Lord Drake.”
“And the message is?” Scarlett asked, crossing her arms. The bastard was playing with her, trying to establish his dominance or some other masculine bullshit.
“He will meet you at nine this evening.”
Having delivered the message, the maid turned to take her leave, but Scarlett stopped her. “I will respond to Ryker myself,” she seethed. Cassius had told her his first name yesterday after the Captain had left, when he had walked her back to the main house. She could play his games.
Scarlett walked down the hall and descended the stairs with grace, the maid calling after her about it not being proper to greet a man in nightclothes. Scarlett didn’t deign to care. She stopped a few steps from the bottom, her hands on her hips, as Ryker stood in the foyer of the manor. His golden eyes went wide as he took her in, wrapped in a robe that didn’t even come to her knees, her long hair over her shoulders, reaching nearly to her navel, and her bare feet.
“I have received your message, Captain Renwell ,” she drawled. “I also must insist we meet at eight in the evening rather than nine.”
“This is most inappropriate,” was Ryker’s answer, looking her in the eyes, and only in her eyes.
Scarlett smirked, her hand going dramatically to her heart. “You’re right. It is most inappropriate to demand a message be delivered at such an abysmal hour in the morning. But here we are, so I thought I’d return the damn favor.”
Ryker glared at her, and she saw the violence that danced in his eyes. Scarlett also saw a promise of some brutal training in her future. Inwardly, she winced but let none of that show on her face as she glared right back. She heard footsteps coming from the kitchens down the hall, and Drake appeared from around the corner. He stopped short when he saw Scarlett and Ryker, looked back and forth between them, and then a wry grin spread across his face.
“Good morning, Scarlett,” he said. “You are up far earlier than usual.”
“Yes. Apparently we needed to discuss a schedule,” she said sweetly. “And I was informing Ryker that I needed to move the meeting time as his demanded time was too late for me.”
Understanding passed over Drake’s face, and he turned to Ryker. “It is true. Miss Scarlett has an ailment for which she takes a tonic every night at the same time. If she is telling you your requested time is too late, then for her health, it is.”
Ryker seemed a little taken aback at the truth of the matter. He gave her a slightly quizzical look to which she returned a small nod of her head. She didn’t like talking about her ailment. Even more so, she didn’t like that no one could figure out what it was. The most skilled healers in the kingdom didn’t know what ailed her, only what could keep the spells away. She’d been taking a tonic every evening before she went to sleep for as long as she could remember. Scarlett could still picture her mother as she mixed the herbs and liquids for her each night. When her mother had passed, Sybil, the successor high healer at the compound, had taken up the job and still delivered it every evening to the manor.
Another familiar voice came from the kitchens, and Scarlett leaned over the stair railing to see Cassius coming down the hall.
“Do I hear my Seastar up before the dawn? There must be something truly exciting happening in the city today,” he teased, handing an orange scone up to her as he came to stop by the railing.
Scarlett rested her chin in her hand and leaned on the railing, taking the scone from him. It was still warm, fresh from the ovens. She inhaled deeply before replying sweetly, “Not at all. I just heard my favorite person in the kingdom was still here and couldn’t resist seeing him twice in two days. I had no idea he’d serve me breakfast as well.”
Cassius chuckled, light filling his dark brown eyes. “Careful, Seastar,” he said. “Mikale is in the kitchens, and he may overhear you.”
Scarlett scowled, taking a bite of her scone. “Maybe I should speak a bit louder of my feelings for him then,” she said as she chewed.
Drake cleared his throat. “Scarlett, while we are certainly familiar with and no longer shocked by your lack of caring for propriety in most cases, my father is with him.”
Scarlett understood the warning. Lord Tyndell would not be happy to see her standing on the stairs in little more than a robe, conversing with several men. He was fairly patient with Scarlett’s distaste for the staunch demureness now demanded of her, was even amused by it, but she did not wish to deliberately displease him. Not when he could make her life a living hell if he wished.
Scarlett reached over the railing to snatch a second scone from Cassius’s hand with a smile and said, “Enjoy your day, boys. I’m most assured my time in the sun with books will be far more entertaining than anything you lot do.”
As she turned and started up the stairs to go back to her rooms, Ryker called out, “Miss Monrhoe.” She looked back over her shoulder at him, narrowing her eyes, but she found no returning glare. Instead, his golden eyes seemed to have softened just a touch. The pity , she realized. The pity that inevitably came with the learning of her lifelong ailment. She had to work to keep the irritation from reaching her face.
“I will meet you at seven if it works better for you,” he continued.
“Eight is fine,” was all Scarlett could muster as she heard voices drifting from the kitchens. Drake gave her a warning look, and she skittered up the stairs.
She slipped back into her room and leaned her head against the closed door. The bedroom was large, with a walk-in closet and her own private bath— complete with a giant soaking tub and plumbed water, a luxury she was forever grateful for.
She had every intention of crawling right back into her giant four-poster bed and sleeping for at least three more hours, but all those thoughts flew from her mind when she saw what rested on her pillow.
A red rose with a piece of paper wrapped around it and tied with a black ribbon. The Assassin Lord had delivered the details of her assignment.
Scarlett tightened the sash of her robe as she crossed slowly to the bed. She had no idea what to expect from this assignment. The Assassin Lord had been trying to lure her back to the Fellowship for months now, and she had adamantly been refusing. After all, she was currently residing at the Tyndell Manor because of him. He had told her what was required of her to return to the Fellowship, and it was something she would never agree to.
The man had practically raised her after her mother had been so brutally assassinated. He had personally overseen her training alongside Nuri and another. The three of them had become his most lethal weapons and his most protected assets. Forcing her to come here had been a punishment for disobeying him. He hadn’t expected her to last this long. He had thought she would have come crawling back by now. He had thought she would have broken by now.
He thought wrong.
Scarlett gingerly picked up the rose and tugged at the black silk ribbon untying the neat bow. She let it flutter to the mattress and tossed the rose aside onto her nightstand. She unrolled the paper. He had written the note himself. She would recognize his tight scrawl anywhere.
My Dearest Dark Maiden-
I miss you. Complete this job and come home. Where you belong.
She sank to her bed as she read the name of the person who stood between her and the retribution she’d sought for years. She read the name over and over and over again. She didn’t know who it was. She didn’t know how she would find the person. All she knew was that she’d do this and then she’d take her time with the person responsible for her mother’s death.
Scarlett arrived in the training barracks promptly at eight that evening. Ryker was already waiting for her, sharpening that dark blade of his. He didn’t even look up at her when he snarled, “Pick your blade. ”
She stalked to the wall and plucked her favorite sword from the wall of weapons, savoring the feel of it in her hand. She had spent most of the day in her room planning out her assignment, figuring out how she was going to track her target. Normally she required knowing why a person was being targeted. She was usually provided with such information. She had never felt right about killing someone without knowing why. She needed a reason. She didn’t always agree with the reason, but at least she knew. The Assassin Lord knew this, which meant not telling her was a test.
And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
That was a lie. She knew exactly how she felt about that. It pissed her off. Another person playing a damn game with her life.
“Sorry if I ruined your evening plans by having to move this earlier,” she said with fake sweetness, sheathing the sword in the belt she’d worn with her fitted pants and tunic.
“Let’s not start this by lying to each other. You are not sorry at all,” Ryker snorted, finally looking up at her. “However, since it was for health reasons and not your own arrogance, I was happy to accommodate you.”
Ryker stood and strode to the center of a training ring. Scarlett followed, her steps quick. “Listen,” she said, coming toe-to-toe with him and looking up into his face. It was all harsh lines and cold features. He was at least six inches taller than her, and he bared his teeth like a godsdamned animal at her being in his face. “My ailment does not hold me back, hamper me, or make me weak, so do not treat me like a fragile child.”
He stared into her eyes. She glared back at him. “Fine,” he finally growled. “Show me how you hold your sword.”
“Really? We’re going to start this basic?” Scarlett asked, not trying to hide her annoyance.
“I told you that you had habits that would need to be broken. I train soldiers for battle, not thieves, assassins, and mercenaries. We train differently.”
“How do you know who trained me?”
Ryker lifted her arm to examine her wrist and hand, ignoring her question. “Do you always fight left-handed?”
“No,” Scarlett answered. “I was forced to train with both. I used to be stronger with my right hand, so my trainer made me use solely my left hand for an entire year until they were equal.”
“Smart trainer,” Ryker said. “Show me your ready stance, as though you were preparing for an attack.” Scarlett obeyed wordlessly. “No smart ass comment?” he taunted.
“I’m not some stupid, spoiled Lady,” Scarlett said, not changing her stance. “You are clearly highly respected and highly skilled. It has been a long while since I have had someone…of quality skill to train with me. I would not be stupid enough to piss you off and ruin my chances to train. Not during the first lesson anyway.”
“Why exactly do you desire me to train you? You are clearly already fairly skilled,” Ryker commented, making a minor adjustment to her grip. She would never admit it to him that such a minor change made her grip instantly better. “And not the snide comment you gave Lairwood.”
Scarlett straightened. She hadn’t expected it. She had thought they’d come here, train, maybe piss each other off a bit, and do the same thing the next time. That he would actually take any interest in her was peculiar and wasn’t something she had bargained for.
“Why does it matter to you?” she asked curiously.
“It is odd in this—” he stopped and then started over. “It is indeed odd for a woman to be skilled in weaponry, is it not?”
“I suppose it is not a common thing for a woman of nobility, but I am not nobility. I believe you’d be surprised at the number of women who do need to know weaponry, especially those not privileged enough to live in this District.”
“I have no doubt about that, but you do live in this District.”
“I have not always lived in this District, and I have no desire to stay in this District,” Scarlett snapped back. This was not her home. She hated the propriety and most of the people. She hated that these people had so much and seemed to not care about those hungry on the streets in the slums. If her world hadn’t gone to hell a year ago, she wouldn’t even be here.
“And where would you desire to go?” Ryker asked, his tone snide, finally getting into a ready stance himself.
“Anywhere but here,” Scarlett answered, returning to her position.
Ryker studied her for a long moment. Then he lunged. And for the next two hours, he knocked her on her ass, hauled her back up, growled something about her skills and what she needed to do differently, and attacked again. Scarlett was breathing hard as she leaned against the wall and tilted her water skin back, draining the last of it. The training quarters were dimly lit as they didn’t want to attract any attention. There were only two oil lamps lit, casting a faint glow around the room as the sun was setting in the summer night. They were both drenched in sweat, but she didn’t dare let her eyes linger, even if he was ridiculously attractive. She could admit that. She saw plenty of pretty muscles and handsome faces come through the Fellowship, but Ryker’s attractiveness was different. Wild but steady. A checked arrogance of someone who knew how skilled he was and didn’t need to prove anything to anyone.
“Did Cassius train you?” Ryker asked beside her, drinking from his own water skin.
“A great deal of my training is from him, yes,” Scarlett answered.
“But not all.”
“No, not even close to all.”
She heard the Captain sigh in frustration, then from between gritted teeth, “Then who else has trained you?”
Scarlett turned to face him and replied with a smirk, “Tutors. Masters. Friends.”
“The same who trained Cassius then?” Ryker asked casually.
Scarlett raised a brow. “Cassius is a member of the king’s armies. He was trained there as any other soldier.”
Ryker gave her a knowing look. “I have trained hundreds of warriors,” he replied blandly. “He was not trained as a soldier first. He is an exceptional fighter because he was trained in different ways and not only as a soldier.”
Hundreds? He looked no older than Drake and Cassius. How could he have trained hundreds of soldiers?
“You can tell all that just by sparring with him?” she asked curiously.
“Who was your mother?” Ryker asked suddenly, again ignoring her question.
Scarlett gaped at him a little. “I don’t really think that is any of your business,” she replied. Ryker just stared at her, clearly expecting her to answer the question anyway. He was obviously used to being obeyed without question. “Where do you hail from?” she asked instead, crossing her arms.
“That is none of—” Ryker stopped himself and gave an exasperated sigh.
Scarlett just smirked at him. “So you get to ask me personal questions, but I’m not allowed to ask any of you? I don’t think that is how this thing shall work between you and me,” she said sweetly.
“There is no you and me. There is you, and there is me,” he growled. Annoyance marked every line of his face, and his shoulders were tense with irritation.
“I suppose you’re right,” she mused. “My tastes tend to not include broody, cranky pricks.”
Through gritted teeth he replied, “If you will not answer simple questions, then I suggest that at the end of every training session we each volunteer one piece of information about ourselves to the other. Not a question, so there is no pressure to divulge something neither of us wants to reveal.”
Scarlett blinked at him. A bargain? A part of her wondered why he cared about her at all, but another part of her was intensely curious about his own past. There was something about Ryker that drew her in, that intrigued her beyond reason, and she found herself saying, “All right. You go first then.”
Ryker shrugged. “I came to Baylorin two and a half years ago. When I met Drake and he learned of my skills on a battlefield, he convinced his father to have me help train the king’s armies. When Lord Tyndell saw my skills, he recruited me to train an elite group of soldiers. Your turn.”
“What kind of skills do you teach to the elite soldiers?” Scarlett asked.
“No questions, Lady , unless you are willing to answer some in return,” Ryker replied sharply.
Scarlett rolled her eyes but said, “Fine. I have not always lived in this District. I came to live with Lord Tyndell and his family a year ago. And before you can ask, where I lived before, that is not up for discussion.”
Ryker studied her. She could see so many questions swirling in his golden eyes, but he didn’t ask. Instead, staring across the room, he said, “If you truly desire to be properly trained, I am willing to do so, but it requires more than swinging swords in a galley a couple evenings a week. You can decide how intense you would like your training to be.”
“I know what training is required to be properly trained,” she snapped back. She pushed down the images of training in the Fellowship, her sisters by her side, enduring the same brutal methods. Broken bones. Bruises and cuts and learning to fight around pain.
“Then you know it will not be enjoyable.” The violence that flickered in his golden eyes sparked something deep in her soul. Something she had not felt in a long time.
“Why?” was Scarlett’s answer. “Why would you offer to train me like that when you spend the better part of your day training men?”
He shrugged slightly and said, “Because where I am from, females fight alongside males on the battlefields. Because those men in your king’s armies are not more skilled than you are. You could likely best many of them outside of the elite group that I train. Because you deserve the choice of something else if that is what you desire.”
Scarlett was silent for a moment. A choice. Something she was rarely gifted. Everything about her life seemed to already be decided for her, had always been someone else’s decision. Someone else’s plan. So she found herself saying, “Yes. I would like that very much.” Not because she wanted to get information from him, but because she truly wanted to choose this for herself.
Ryker merely gave her a feral, sarcastic grin and said, “Remember you said that when you are meeting me to run at dawn.”