The Scarlet Assassin

Chapter Eleven

Sorin didn't meet my eyes the next morning. He followed idly behind me during our rounds, sat silently next to me during a meeting, and even dozed off in one of my office chairs while I was masking my ever-growing panic for this mission. Every minute I planned, every second closer to the deadline, seemed like time wasted. I had my affairs in order -Fallon was going to lead in my stead- I had everyone scrambling around for various things, a map with our journey marked on it, my few bags packed, and it still didn't feel like enough. 

My plans had to have escape plans, and those escape plans had escape plans. You never know what shit could go down during a mission, especially one this dangerous.

Carter helped me draw blueprints for the Targaryen castle based on Sophie's descriptions and what she could sneak from the castle. He complained about not being an architect but still effortlessly drew up the four stories and a perimeter of the castle along with the nearest village where Wintertide was held. Sophie continued with her description of the land surrounding the castle, but I stopped her after hearing a certain detail.

If I thought the castle was impenetrable before knowing that it was surrounded by water on all sides, it definitely was now. But then Sophie pointed out a series of tunnels used for quick escapes, and a new plan spun in my head. She had only seen them on a map once when being guided through the Targaryen castle at a prior Wintertide, and only heard the conversation once -between her dad and the Targaryen king- but she still roughly pointed out all the tunnels she remembered. Eleven in all. I dismissed her.

Ace worked with me, surprisingly with no complaint, on drafting new weapons for each of us to use, to fit our taste. She drowned herself in work until she had made six sets of weapons and didn't speak to me the rest of the day unless she spat insults at me or told me to stop lording over her. 

Her being in my office all day bugged me. Usually, she and Isabella had lunches or at least met up in the middle of the day and gossiped. Being cramped in an office all day usually made Ace jittery and more irritated, but for hours on hours, she wouldn't even look up from her project. It was strange, to say the least, but I didn't say anything and instead let us go on in silence until I left to complete another task.

An hour later, I was downstairs in the training room. Sweat trickled down my body as I punched the sparring dummy in the corner of the room again and again and again, until I physically couldn't anymore, until my arms gave out. My ears, thrumming with adrenaline, heard the faint sound of another body behind me. I knew it was Sorin without even having to look. He hadn't needed to ask what I was doing when I threw down papers irritably and walked in here. I knew he'd know. 

We both come here daily, sometimes twice a day when something was pissing us off or stressing us out (usually each other) but we never spoke or even faced the same direction. Even now, Sorin was doing some workout in the opposite corner. I heard his grunts every now and then or his feet striking the mat.

I exhaled deeply and set my hands on my head, clenching and unclenching my jaw once. Closing my eyes, I tried to let the stress roll from my body. It didn't. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about the journey, about the millions of intricate pieces I had to somehow fit together. Sweat dripped from my chin, so I reached for a cloth to wipe my face.

"Do you have any idea how hot you look when you're pissed?" said a voice, breathless from across the room. I glanced over my shoulder. 

"Of course I do, but how about you continue complimenting me after getting me water. I like it chilled and with a little lemon in it." I turned back to the dummy and began striking it again.

"I'm not your errand boy," Sorin countered, "get your own damn water." My movements froze. Slowly, I turned around and cocked a brow at Sorin.

I stepped forward once, then again and again. Like me, Sorin's shirt was off, revealing his tattoo of black swirls along his shoulders. Sweat gleamed off his chest, but as I glanced down, I found a deep scar that ran from the left side of his chest to his lower right abdomen. It took me by surprise. I guess I'd never seen it before -or at least remembered it. It looked to be made by a sword, maybe five or six years old. Pity. It covered some of his chiseled abs.