Assassin's Blade

A Kiss Upon The Lips

From her aerie in the tower, Ryelleth yawned, that old sweet sound that always made Fia laugh affectionately whenever she heard it. Fia couldn't see the top of the tower where her dragon sat, for she stood in the tower's shadow. But at the sound of her dragon's yawn, she had to turn aside, her eyes prickling.

What she'd accomplished meant nothing to these men.

All those mornings when she'd climb to the aerie and Ryelleth would yawn like that and stretch out her wings like enormous sails, the sun burning flame-red through their emerald membranes. Riding out to her family's fortress to let Ryelleth catch a goat for her breakfast. All those quiet times when they flew high over the earth, with all the great mountains and vineyards and pines so small below them and quiet. All those times that Ryelleth rubbed her head against Fia's body like a gigantic cat – a gigantic, flame-hot cat.

No more would Fia enjoy the roar of wind in her ears and the wild flight of a dragon in the middle air between earth and heaven. No more would the freezing, thin air rush over her face. No more would she share in the delight of her dragon as they spiraled down toward the ground.

Instead, Fia would sit in Carmelo's house and bear children and pray to the Virgin Mary that she wouldn't die in childbirth before she was 30, the way so many young mothers did.

What was she going to do?

Just then, the marriage broker said something to make her papa and Carmelo's father laugh.

"Now both fathers have signed," boomed the marriage broker to Fia and Carmelo. "Congratulations. You two lucky children will be wed one year from today in May."

Everybody but Fia applauded.

"Seal the bargain with a kiss upon her lips," Carmelo's father demanded.

Papa frowned but said, "It is tradition." He met Fia's eyes.

One final indignity and she'd be finished. "Fine," she said.

Carmelo's father lined Carmelo up in front of Fia, though Carmelo reddened and moved his father's hands out of his way. "I can do this on my own," he muttered.

"Kiss her, son, kiss her." His father was getting far more out of the experience than Carmelo was.

Fia couldn't meet Carmelo's eyes, and she felt the color rising in her face – anger, disgust.

Carmelo, on the other hand, gazed fixedly down at her, brows lowered, his face reddening too.

Fia was torn between the urge to apologize profusely, and the urge, just as strong, to rip off her gloves and repeat that slap hard enough to purple his eye.

He leaned down and kissed her on the lips.

She stood there with eyes open like a block of wood.

They pulled apart, Carmelo's face blotching again. He would have looked almost brokenhearted if he weren't so angry. Their fathers applauded anyway. She turned away, wrapping her traveling cloak around her, breathing in that smell of smoke and cinders that always clung to her. Soon to be hers no more.

Both fathers shook hands warmly. "I'm pleased to ally my family with yours," her father said.

"And I'm pleased to ally with your house," Carmelo's father said. "If the exiles return, I should be glad to defend the city with you at my side."

"I pray it should not come to that," Papa said. "In fact, that is where Fia will be taking me next, to peace talks between the city's factions. If we can keep this city at peace, then we do a great service to our families and our children's families."

"All the same," said Carmelo's father, pulling out a sword, "My sword cries out for the blood of its foes. I am prepared to fight and shed much blood in the name of peace."

Does he not understand how he sounds, to have those words coming out of his mouth? Fia wondered.

"It's time to go." Fia's papa laid his pen into its small wooden case and shut it, then slid it inside his red robes of state, where he had a pocket. "These peace negotiations have been going on for so long, I admit that I despair of ever seeing their end."

"Or the end of war in the city," said Carmelo's father. "In my day, the Lambs deserved their exile, richly deserved it. But now it seems that there is always a new faction that wants to take the place of the old, a new faction that rises to strike at the foundation of our government and law."

The marriage broker gathered the papers and slowly rolled them up. "In my day, the rule of law meant something," he said in his sonorous voice.

"Amen," said Papa.

Fia, who was pointedly glaring off at a high window across the street so she wouldn't be seen scowling, saw her father glance at her from the corner of her eye. "Gentlemen, I bid you good morning."

Finally. Fia began to stalk away.

"Young lady." Carmelo's father's gruff voice made her turn back when she'd just about gained her freedom.

He was glaring at her, a look that made her stomach drop. "If you strike my son again, even in jest, I would not hesitate to send one of my servants to tie you to a whipping post and give you the lash."

Every drop of blood left Fia's face.

Her hand dropped to where she kept a dagger hidden at her hip. "If you try that, I will cut you down like a dog in the street. I am a scion of the Famiglia Portinari, and you will not lay a hand on me."

His face went blotchy, just as Carmelo's did, but he laughed scornfully. "You'd die if you tried."

"I would die with great satisfaction," Fia said.

Her father clapped a hand, hard, on her shoulder. "Not another word out of you. Not one more. You will not destroy what we are building here."