The next few weeks had the two assassins settling into a routine. Ari would lead them from their cells after breakfast each morning and lead them out to the fields where they would work until their fingers bled and backs ached after which they’d be allowed to feast with the rest of the Anarchists. Chained up, of course. It amazed Scott that there was actual vegetation growing. He’d always been taught that outside the underground or Angel City, there was nothing but famine. To him, it seemed that Anarchists were truly wealthy and were thriving without the Order.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” Gray said, his nimble fingers planting beetroot seeds. Scott looked down at his own hands. They were so much darker than their old, sun-deprived pallor. He looked at some of the other men working the field and their skin had been sunburnt so frequently that it had taken on a pinkish colour, like a permanent burn. He was grateful that soon he’d either be free or dead. Pink was not his colour.
“I’m not enjoying it, I’m simply making the best of our situation,” Scott replied defensively, his eyes flicking helplessly to Ari, who was collecting strawberries and laughing with another girl her age. She wasn’t working because she had to, no; she was working because she wanted to. “And as if you’re one to talk. I’ve seen you with the strawberry wine.”
“Hmm? What? Oh I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening. All I heard was strawberry wine,” Gray grinned. He put a thin layer of soil over a seed before leaping to his feet in triumph. “I have finished the beetroot!” He declared. The other labourers glanced up briefly but quickly returned to their work, unimpressed. “Oh you’re all just jealous.”
“Taiyo, why aren’t you working?” A voice asked. Gray turned to see Ari holding out a dagger. “I can’t keep you alive if you’re not working.”
“Oh but I have finished my work,” Gray said, pinching the blade between his forefinger and thumb and gingerly pointing it away from him. “May I have some strawberry wine now? I do enjoy my strawberry wine.”
“The entire Fort knows you love your strawberry wine,” Ari rolled her eyes. She was hardly dressed for work in a rose pink dress. Though even at the slightest movement, the gentle clinking of metal blades could be heard from beneath the fabric. She turned to Scott. “Do you require a break?”
Scott wiped sweat from his brow and his dark hair clung to his skin. “No, I’m fine thank you.”
“You look exhausted.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re having a rest, Keenan. That’s an order.”
“Yes ma’am,” Scott grinned with a salute. Ari pressed her lips together in a feeble attempt to suppress her own smile. She jerked her head in the direction of the gardens.
“Come along.” As they walked, the guard moved to follow put Ari shook her head. “Don’t worry; I’ll be perfectly capable of killing him if necessary. Just take Taiyo to get some wine.”
“Oh yay!” Gray clasped his hands eagerly. “I will toast to your generosity!” The guard led Gray away and Scott watched in bewilderment. The greatest assassin of all time had just clasped his hands and said ‘yay’.
The gardens, like most of Hell’s Gate, were bursting with colour. Vibrant blues, pinks, purples, reds and yellows grew all around Scott like individual explosions of beauty.
“I thought flowers didn’t exist anymore,” Scott said, his voice barely above a whisper. His features were painted with awe.
“That’s what the Order would have you believe,” Ari said, watching him carefully from the corners of her green eyes.
“But why? Flowers are hardly a threat.”
“Abundance and fertility are threats,” Ari replied bitterly. “If everyone could grow their own food, how will the Order control them? They have no power if they are not needed.”
“How can they protect them without something to protect them from,” Scott nodded. He wiped sweat from his brow as Ari led him further into the labyrinth of flowers. By the time they’d reached the centre, Scott was unsure of how much time had passed. There, in the very centre of the maze, sat a small, round wood table and two chairs. Ari sat herself down on one seat and gestured for Scott to take the other.
“I should probably get back to work.” Scott’s eyes flitted to the vine-entwined archway they’d just walked through. There was another entrance, but otherwise the labyrinth was secluded. The perfect place to kill his assassin’s training whispered to him, an old, familiar and almost forgotten voice. Or die.
“You’ve worked enough,” Ari sighed. She leaned back in her chair and drummed her fingernails on the table. Simply looking at her made Scott’s heart skip a beat. He looked away, furiously studying his feet. What was wrong with him? These fleeting infatuations were the downfall of others, but not of him. He didn’t want to kill, certainly, but he didn’t want to be weak either. If only she weren’t so damn beautiful, he could help himself. He couldn’t help himself.
“Keenan,” Ari said softly. It took a moment for Scott to respond to his pseudonym. He looked up. “Are we a cruel people? The Anarchists, I mean.”
“I’ve encountered crueller, but never kinder.” Scott stood. “I really should get back to work.” Before I lose it completely. He turned to leave but Ari took hold of his wrist. Her hands were soft but her grip was firm.
“I said you’ve worked enough,” she said. “Sit down.”
“I thought I was supposed to be ‘earning my keep’.”
“Well you don’t need to anymore, alright?” Ari snapped. Her expression softened and her hand slipped from Scott’s wrist. “I want you to be comfortable.”
“Peter’s coming back, isn’t he?” Scott asked. “I’m going to die.”
“We don’t know that... for certain,” Ari said but the look in her eyes betrayed her. Scott and Gray were as good as dead. Just as Scott found a reason to live.
“When?” Scott couldn’t help but inquire. Ari stood up abruptly, coming so close to Scott that he was painfully aware of her. Her height caused her lips to be perfectly in line with his if she looked up at him and him down at her. All he had to do was close the gaps and they’d connect like puzzle pieces. Designed for one another.
“Tomorrow,” she answered, her breath warm against the flesh of his lips, smelling of peppermint. “He returns tomorrow.”
“We have to leave,” Gray replied, pacing the cell. Scott leaned against the cool stone of his cell, tracing his fingertips dreamily against his lips. He had almost kissed her. He could still smell the faint peppermint of her breath. He could still feel the warmth of it, like the rest of his body was ice cold.
“That’s a wonderful plan,” Scott replied sarcastically. “It doesn’t matter that we’re in a cell. I mean, it’s only a dungeon.” Gray ignored him. “When do we leave?”
“Now,” Gray replied, pulling knives, rope and a metal key out from his tunic.
“How the hell did you get a hold of all that?” Scott asked in bafflement.
“Do you remember all those times I got drunk on strawberry wine?” Scott nodded. “A farce. Truthfully, I haven’t been drunk in years. I can hold my liquor better than just about anyone.”
“And you act like a foolish drunk because?”
“Nobody notices a drunk,” Gray shrugged. “Nobody takes them seriously or bothers to suspect them. I can pretend to be passed out drunk but can really be listening in on the guards nearby. I can steal things such as knives or a key from a guard as he gingerly carries the drunk back to his cell.” Gray reached his hand through the bars, sliding the key into the lock. It gave an almost inaudible click and the door creaked open.
“What about the guards?” Scott whispered.
“I drugged them. I had a feeling we’d need to get out of here.” The two assassins made their way up the cobblestone staircase, their footfalls silent as always. When they entered the main corridor they were surprised by the sheer lack of security.
“If you could’ve gotten us out so quickly, why didn’t we leave sooner?”
“We came here for a reason,” Gray reminded him. “We were given a target. We were given a mission.”
“Who are we meant to kill?”
“Ari’s father,” Gray replied. “But we were also given another mission.”
“Another hit?”
“Not exactly. See, the Order wants a bargaining chip. We’re supposed to bring them one.”
“And what’s our bargaining chip?” But as Scott asked the question, he knew the answer. Ari.
There was little more conversation. Scott gritted his teeth and followed his mentor through the weaving corridors until they reached a set of double doors with gold plating. There were no guards outside the door of Ari’s father’s room. Perhaps he could defend himself well enough. Gray leaned against one of the doors and slowly pushed it open, revealing a large room, a quarter of it take up with the bed. The marble floors gleamed and the large window was open, the curtains blowing gently like strands of hair in the breeze. There, on the bed, lay their target... though someone had beaten them to him. His eyes gazed glassily at the ceiling and his silk nightgown was drenched in blood. His arm was stretched out before him, as if he had died reaching for something, or someone. Already the heat had affected the body and the room was filled with the foulest stench. Scott fought the urge to wretch as a fly landed on an open, glassy eye.
“Well,” Gray said cheerfully. “That makes our job easier.”
“How can you be so happy? People are going to think we killed him.”
“Well, if he wasn’t already dead we would have. And I thought you were smart.” Gray turned on his heels, marching back the way they’d come, heading for Ari’s room. As the thought of what they were about to do, Scott’s stomach lurched and twisted.
Ari’s chambers were not far from her father’s and soon they found themselves opening her door. She was not on her bed, as her father had been. Scott was overjoyed to see that she was still alive. She sat at her vanity table, running a comb through her long blonde hair. The door gave a slight creak and within an instant Ari was facing them, a rapier in her grip. Scott saw a look of surprise flicker on her face but soon it was stoic as always.
“Are you going to kill me?” She asked. Her grip tightened on her weapon.
“No,” Gray replied calmly. “Not yet.” Scott saw Gray flick his wrist slightly. He heard a sudden thump and saw Ari on the ground unconscious, a tiny dart sticking out of her neck.
“Where were you keeping that?” Scott and gray had been searched thoroughly before being imprisoned for the Trials.
“Under my tongue. Not the most comfortable storage space, I must say.”
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