Lady Mutiny

Twenty-Eight

The wedding pavilion was stifling in the summer heat, and Cass did her best to get her mind off of that and the events that were to come later that day. She woke from a fitful night's sleep, uncertain if it was due to was pre-wedding jitters or the thought that Wil was sleeping only a floor beneath her.

She heard him come back late at night, drunk and stumbling in through the back door. He was a horrible assassin when he was drunk, though she was certain most were anyway, which is why they trained to maintain their tolerance or didn't drink at all.

She knew it wasn't the latter, which meant Baz must have drunk Wil under the table.

And she was grateful for having the forethought of leaving the door unlocked and informing Lucas that Wil would be returning. The steward didn't question her decision, and sometimes she wondered what Lucas truly knew about the lives she and Lilia lived. Not to mention, the last thing she wanted was the City Guard banging on her door, and questions being raised as to why there's such a man like Wil begging entrance.

But come the morning he was still there, looking worse for wear despite the tea she offered him, and he was reserved during their carriage ride to the Solstice Festival grounds. And even now, as they remained together within her tent, he silently lingered by the entrance, occasionally pushing over the flap just enough to peek outside, as if on constant watch for something. Or someone.

"You're allowed to relax some, you know," she finally said after watching him look outside for the fifteenth time. "No one is going to bother us here."

He let out an unamused sound and continued his vigilance.

"How did last night go?" she asked casually, turning back to the makeshift vanity mirror erected for her use in the tent's corner. "I heard you come back late."

"You asked me to," he reminded her hoarsely.

"I know. How did Baz take it?"

"About as well as one can expect the Leader of the Guild of Assassins to take being denied anything," he said bitterly.

"He was pissed?" Cass frowned.

Wil shrugged. "He got over it once I started buying him drinks."

"So, you got him drunk?" she asked, almost incredulously, as she spun around on the padded bench.

The assassin's attention didn't divert from his post. "So much so that he made sure every patron at that tavern was more than aware that he was getting married the next day to the most beautiful, caring and understanding woman in Lathos."

Cass couldn't help the blush that rose to her cheeks at the thought, but Wil remained unamused, and something in his tone had Cass pressing for more information. "And what did you drink to?"

He was silent for a moment, and she wondered if he had heard her at all until he finally took a step away from the pavilion entrance and moved closer.

"Are you certain this is the life you want?"

Cocking her head to the side, she allowed a playful smile to tease her lips. "Isn't that a little hypocritical of you, from one assassin to the other?"

His dark gaze on hers was unrelenting. "This has nothing to do with the Guild."

Furrowing her brow, Cass stood from the bench. "Then what?"

"I'm talking about Baz," he said, her fiancé's name rolling off his tongue as if it was a poison.

She glared at him for that. "Your inability to get along with Baz is not my concern right now."