Noble Assassin

Chapter 4.2 (Under the Weather)

She was in a bed. Rizelle didn't open her eyes, but she could feel the comfort of the mattress and pillow, and the softness of the duvet hugging her. For minutes, she did nothing, floating in a state between wakefulness and slumber, but even through that, she was aware of the incessant ache in her abdomen and head.

A muted sound reached her, the whisper of a soft material brushing over apolished surface. At last, she pried open her eyes and waited, blinking, while they adjusted to the light. She was in a double bed, in an unfamiliar room. It was large, well-furnished, and obviously belonged to someone rich.

She felt different, besides her pain and weakness. Something is missing...

With a jolt of panic, she noticed the absence of something that had been part of her for years. My knives!

With both eyes and hands, she searched frantically, only relaxing when she spotted them resting on a console table across the room. A thin stack of neatly folded cloth was beside it – her clothes; looking down, she realised she wore an unfamiliar silk nightgown. And she had been cleaned. For the first time in weeks, she was free of sweat and grime.

A girl in a simple dress stood across the room, wiping the dressing table with a cloth. Rizelle opened her mouth to speak, but found herself clearing her throat instead – it was too long since she'd last spoken. The girl turned around and smiled. "Oh, you're awake! Just hold on a minute, I'll get the ma'am." Before Rizelle could ask her anything, she hurried out, closing the door behind her.

Rizelle attempted to get out of bed, but was too weak; she only managed to sit up. With her new posture, she could scrutinise her surroundings better. Where was she? The last she remembered was that she had been poisoned...

Well, I certainly have not died and gone to heaven, considering the headache I have.

From the bright rays of sunlight illuminating the garden outside the window, she judged it was early afternoon. She wondered how long she'd been out.

The door opened, and a lady entered. "So, you're awake at last. How are you feeling?"

Rizelle immediately recognised her – the woman at the market. She was probably at her house, then. But I tried to steal from her. Why would she help me? She shuddered at the thought that the lady would want something from her in return. "Terrible," she admitted. "Like an old wash rag. How long was I out? And...who are you?"

The lady's eyes expressed her sympathy. "Since yestermorning." She held up a hand to stall any further questions. "Undoubtedly, you have a lot to ask, but I suggest you wash up and eat, first. You'll feel better."

Her mood brightening at the thought, Rizelle tried to get up once more. The woman helped her, showing her to a pair of fluffy slippers, and supporting her out of the room and down a corridor.

Rizelle hated every moment of it; she loathed that she was too feeble to stand unaided; she detested to be seen like this; she despised that she was forced to accept help in the simplest task. But she was grateful for it, and knew it was necessary, so she swallowed her stubbornness and kept onward.

As they reached the end, the door there ajar, the girl who had called the lady – What is her name? – stepped out.

"I will assist you, miss." She removed Rizelle from the lady and led her into the bathroom.

The bathroom was large, with gleaming, cream-coloured porcelain tiles. In the centre, a smooth, white stone tub was sunken into the ground, a brass tap at its head. The wall straight ahead bore a full-length silver mirror, hooks holding bathrobes, and trim marble shelves carrying towels and toiletries. The other walls were instead decorated with beautiful mosaic art – the ocean, a lake, and a waterfall, each on one.