Bloodhound - The Leper King and a Desert Rose

3. Into a new world

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THE moment Siri slowly started to wake up she felt her body ache. The long days of travel and the events of yesterday finally caught up on her. She opened her eyes just to quickly close them again after the bright sunlight, that came through a small window of the backroom, hit her right in her face. With a frustrated moan Siri turned around, now laying with her face down, digging it deeper into one of the many cushions. She was still in her plain linen robes, the weapons, boots and other parts of her outfit that hindered her in having a good nap, resting in a corner of the room. The young girl must have taken her hood down in her sleep, revealing her dark hair which shimmered like polished darkwood in the morning sun.

With a loud bang the door swung open and a young man wearing the same robes as Siri, but already fully clothed, was now leaning against the doorframe. He had his hood down as well, showing his tan skinned face, the shadow of a beard slowly growing on his young and sharp features. His hair short and almost as dark as his piercing eyes. It was Altaïr. "Hey you, wake up." He almost screamed at her, a cocky smirk on his face. "I heard your lovely moan, I know you just pretend to sleep." Altaïr tried to provocate her. Nothing unusual. The young woman started to move again, turning her head around to face the man leaning against the wooden frame of the door to the room. She lifted her hand to get some strands of her hair out of her face and then proceeded to give the young man an annoyed wave with the same hand. "Go away, Altaïr. I don't need to hear your annoying voice this early in the morning." She tried to shush him away, her voice still raspy and one eye half-open, looking at the assassin in front of her. Her vision still blurry, she realized that Altaïr was holding something in his hands.

"Fine, then I will have all this delicious bread and cold water to myself. Thank you for being so generous, little rat." He said sarcastically, moving the bread towards his mouth. He registered a sudden movement in the corner of his eyes and in the last second he managed to dodge the object with a smooth flow of movements. A cushion hitting the wall behind him. Altaïr looked back to Siri who was now sitting in between the other cushions, staring back at him in anger, holding out her hand towards the man in front of her. "Give it to me Altaïr." She demanded, giving him a glare that made his blood boil over. He sighed in frustration. "Why is everyone in this office trying to hurt me?"

"Because you deserve it, Altaïr." She answered his question in her snippy voice, raising one eyebrow and still holding her hand out. "Fine." He returned her snippy energy, throwing the bread and a bag filled with water into her direction. She caught both with no problem, taking a big bite out of the bread immediately. There was still tension between the both of them. "The old man told me about your mission Siri." Altaïr started again, giving the woman in front of him a judging look. She gave the man in front of him an equal look of disagreement, still eating off the bread in her hands. "You behave like a feral man, they will kick you out of the palace in less than a week." He mocked her. "The king will be displeased being around a woman like you." Altaïr clearly made fun of her.

With her free hand Siri grabbed another cushion to throw it, while Altaïr fastly lifted his hands up in defense, ready to catch it. "That's because I lived all my life with bastards like you, Altaïr." She snapped back. "And what do you know anyway? I am not as stupid as you. I am a fast learner. Remember that I learned to understand and write latin and french in less than a year while you still struggle to do so?" She claimed with a proud smile on her lips. "I can adapt to whatever awaits me in the palace." Siri continued, placing the cushion back onto the rug, now taking a sip of the water. "And I bet that I can gather more information than you in the next week." A challenge. She challenged him. A common thing between the competitive young assassins. Altaïr took down his hands again, now crossing his arms over his chest, looking down to the sitting figure in front of him. "Bet!" He took on her challenge.