Lady Mutiny

Eighteen

"Oh, I don't intend on calling you Bethala when I take you to bed- of that, I can assure you." And he gave her a devilish grin that solidified that promise.

Lilia's cheeks flushed at the possibilities. "Well, no one is going to bed and calling anyone anything until you get me out of this dress," and she turned around to show him the back where the lacings of the corset held her in place.

With delicate hands, Andro began untying the laced bodice of Lilia's dress, and a shiver went down her spine despite the heat of the flames from the fireplace. "What do you wish to accomplish once you achieve your goals here?" he asked softly over her shoulder.

The question struck Lilia as odd under the current circumstances. Weren't she and Andro walking along the same path? Weren't her goals his goals? Or was she so focused on the task at hand, she didn't consider what life would be like once she saw her vengeance through. The thought sobered her a little as she glanced back at him from over her shoulder and admitted, "I don't know."

"What would Cass want you to do?"

Mention of her sister's name still made her heart skip a beat. "I'll have killed her lover - I don't think I'll be able to ask that of her for some time afterward."

"But will it be worth it? Knowing that what you'll do will have such an effect on her."

She glared at him for that. "This is not the time to be second-guessing the outcomes of our actions." Though she'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit to lying awake at night, considering the same scenarios.

"And when it's done," he continued, "do you plan on remaining here in Lathos?"

She tried to make eye contact with him at that, but his gaze remained trained on her back while he worked on the laces.

"Andro," she breathed, and there must have been something in the way she whispered his name that brought his stormy eyes up to meet hers.

And just the way he looked at her had her heart, once stone-cold and unyielding, beginning to shatter at the unknown thoughts of what the future held. It made her turn in his arms to face him completely, to take him in as he stood before her.

No, she would not consider it now. Not when there was still too much to do. Too much at stake- too many unknowns.

"Give me a week," she murmured as her fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, slowly releasing the material to reveal the dark, muscular chest underneath. "Let's get beyond the Solstice festival, and then we can decide what we'll do for the rest of our lives."

"And until then?" he breathed, watching her as she removed his shirt.

"Until then," she sighed, her hands going to the buttons on his pants once his shirt was discarded upon the floor, "you can take me to bed, and you can fuck me, and I don't give a shit what you call me while you're doing it."

The marketplace was exactly as Lilia remembered it.

Dressed in an elaborate gown of ruby and emerald, with another matching, oversized hat upon her head, she set out that morning still in the haze from the evening's - and morning's - activities with Andro. The Lord made her blood sing in ways similar to those while on the hunt for her next Mark- no wonder she was so distracted the night she was supposed to kill him, only one year ago.

And just as it was last year, Lathos was in full thrall as preparations for hosting the Summer Solstice festival commenced throughout. Every merchant, vendor, peddler, and artisan were out hawking their wares, goods, and foodstuffs to the influx of tourists through the city's streets.

It was a time of year Lilia always enjoyed- business did well when the diplomats from all over sought her silks for their finery. This year was no different - Lilia recognized the skeins being carried through the streets by merchants and consumers alike, but those weren't her seals on the bolts, her signature on the receipts. She swore if she looked hard enough, the Cortova rose was cut through by the Gaylen sword, and the anger make her grit her teeth so hard her jaw hurt.

Soon.

It would all be over soon.

In the meantime, she needed to focus on more menial tasks, such as coloring her hair.

It was a task she was used to and had dyed her locks more times than she cared to admit for the sake of her missions. In that, she knew exactly where to go, who to speak to, and how to mix the color just so that it would hold to the hair even in the worst rainstorm.

But as she was making her way through the crowded streets, unable to peel her gaze from the colorful stalls on either side, the sense of someone watching her prickled the skin on the back of her neck. For too long had she trained for a life where secrecy and shadows ruled her instincts, and being out in the open as she was, though just as good a hiding place as any, still left her with a sense of vulnerability she wasn't willing to ignore.

The knife strapped to her thigh, and the dagger hidden between her breasts under her bodice also contributed to whatever confidence she needed to continue on her way.

But as the day wore on, and she bought what she needed, pasting on a smile larger than one Lilia Cortova would ever have worn in public, she couldn't ignore the lingering presence at her back, the darkness just over her shoulder, escaping from view should she dare to glance.

So, she made a point of taking the long way back to the residence, feigning the foolishness of a noblewoman unfamiliar with the dark alleyways of a large city, allowing herself to get lost exactly where she knew she would have made her presence known had the roles been reversed.

She ever went too far as to drop her packages to brace a hand upon a brick wall, whimpering over a sore ankle that may have appeared overworked for such a lady not accustomed to walking on such an uneven street. But she listened as she brought her hand up her leg, under her skirts. She held her breath as she gripped the handle of her hidden blade, allowing her heartbeat so slow steadily before she deftly whipped it out of its holder before using her momentum, spinning her body completely around in a swirl of red and green organza skirts before the knife met the neck of her follower just as he—for it was a he—dared to reveal himself from the shade.

He pressed his body against the brick wall, dark eyes wide though sleep-drawn, hair disheveled as if it hadn't been washed in days, with his hands up before him to show he held no weapons.

It took Lilia a heartbeat to let loose the breath she was holding, hissing through her teeth though the knife remained where it was against his skin, a line of red drawing blood as recognition clicked in faster than instincts.

"Wil?"