Retribution (An Assassin's Creed III story)

Thirty Three: From This Day Forth

Davenport Homestead, 1781

Naomi

I went back to my room last night after Connor left, hoping that I could find some respite in sleep. I couldn't, of course. So the next few hours found me in the training room, abusing the dummy with throwing knives and occasionally, my fists. I wanted to get out of the manor, because every room and corridor reminded me of Achilles. But I couldn't risk meeting Connor outside. So I stayed in the house, knowing it was the last place he would go. The act of a coward, I'll admit. But at least I'm not the one obsessed with revenge.

The front door closes with a bang, making me tense. "Naomi?" calls a voice that is very much not Connor's, and I breathe a sigh of relief. "Are you there?"

Diana. "Down here!" I call back to her, still lying on the floor in my shirt and trousers.

She wears a worried expression when she enters the room. Thankfully, Diana doesn't express her sympathies over Achilles' death. She knows I grieve on my own.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." She forces a smirk. For my sake, of course.

And she isn't wrong. Though I hadn't looked in the mirror for a while, I'm certain that my hair is a matted, tangled mess. Not to mention the dirt on my clothes. Grime on my face.

"Good morning to you too," I try to joke, but my voice comes out grim.

Diana is standing over me now, her face a picture of kindness. "I thought you'd be with Connor."

The name makes me wince. "We're not exactly speaking for now."

"Another one of your arguments?" she muses. "The two of you will make up. You always do."

I bite down a bitter scoff. Not this time, I think.

"Well, you might want to see him off," she continues with a shrug. "I saw him at the harbour this morning. The men were loading guns and whatnot. Looks like he's going to battle."

I'm sitting bolt upright before I know it. "What?" I ask, though I already know the answer. He's going to storm Fort George. I just didn't think he'd be leaving so soon.

Diana looks surprised. "He didn't tell you?"

Oh, he did. Yelled at me, more like. But I had also yelled back. He hurt me, but I had also hurt him. We cut each other up, each time inflicting wounds worse than before, but we somehow always stumble back together. Who's to say this time won't be the same?

Connor will not find peace until Charles Lee is dead. And while I wish that were different, I once thought like him about Shay, too. Who am I to declare him wrong? If I can't change him, I can at least go with him. It is a price I'm willing to pay, I realize now. A compromise I'm willing to make.

Besides, if the brute is going to do something stupid, like getting himself killed, I'm not going to let him do it alone.

"I need to go."

Poor Brie is already galloping as fast as she can, but I urge her forward still for fear that I might miss the Aquila. The sky is bright—I hadn't realized it was so late in the morning—but an autumn chill clings in the air, freezing my hands and face instantly. My stomach flips when I picture the docks without the Aquila. I'm not going to make it, I'm not going to make it—

But there she is, gliding gracefully across the face of the ocean, her sails pregnant with wind. The Aquila is a good few hundred yards away from the harbour, but I will not let that deter me. Muttering a quick thanks to Brie, I leap off her and into a boat, slicing the tether with my hidden blade. The oars slap furiously against the water, and my arms burn with exertion as I row. And row. And row.