The Guardian

Chapter Eight

Apparently, Isodore believed in punishment.

So, after my sarcasm and storming out last night, I needed to be on 'roof duty'. He said someone was always on it, and I should have a go. Damian told me he's never heard of something so ridiculous.

And of course it was pouring rain.

My black pants and shirt were stuck to me, and my hair was hanging in wet ropes down my back, with water running in my eyes. The leather boots on my feet were tight, and thankfully, waterproof. Black clouds swarmed over me and I lay on my stomach with my knifes under my torso, to stop them getting wet and rusting. And I had to stay here from 7am until 3pm.

I'd already been up here for 7 hours and only had  one to go. But I was soaking wet, cold, hungry and relatively angry. Nothing had happened. I turned my head a little when I heard a noise from my balcony, but just saw a familiar head of light brown curls. He crawled up beside me, and he was already soaked through.

"Well, I'm surprised that you're still up here," his voice is slightly muffled through the sound of the rain, but I can still hear.

"I don't have an option, I have another hour," I turn my head to look at him, and he's beaming widely. "What?"

"Isodore had a bet against me that you couldn't last the 8 hours and I said if you even lasted 7 hours I'd join you for the last hour. So here I am," he gives a small smile, rain dripping off his hair into his eyes.

"Well, one thing you should know about me, if I'm told to do something and I agree to it in the first place, I'll finish it," I look down at my hands, twisted together in front of me. If Isodore kept this up it wasn't going to be the outside assassins he'd have to worry about.

"We can go back inside if you want," Damian could hardly contain the laughter in his voice.

"Be my guest," I kept my eyes on the roof ahead of us.

He didn't speak again after that, but a little while later we saw a suspicious-looking trunk being carried from our front door to a waiting carriage and then driven away. When I looked back up from that, there was a flash of movement on the roof opposite us, which I pointed out to Damian.

We watched carefully as the shadow looked at our house once more and then disappeared, jumping onto the surrounding roofs and Damian made to get up, but I pulled him back down.

"Shouldn't we follow them?" He looked at me like I was stupid, but I gave him a quick glare and it removed the expression from his face.

"No, but we now know that we're being watched, let them think that they're getting away with it," I shrug, it was kind of obvious.

"Oh, alright," he nods slightly. "Time's up, if you were wandering."

"Excellent," I tuck my knives inside my shirt and then slide down onto my balcony, Damian landing beside me a moment later.

He goes to walk into my room, but I put a hand on his chest to stop him. "You are not dripping water on my carpet." He gives a small laugh, but my gaze stays firm as I look into my room, the water now blocked by the slight shelter over the edge of my balcony, the doors open. "Phillipa!"

"Yes," she comes to rushing to the door, looking slightly panicked.

"Would you mind grabbing us some robes? The towel ones please?" I give her an apologetic smile, but I suppose she'd be madder if we ruined the carpet.

"Of course dear, and pull your shoes off, the pair of you and I'll stick them by the fire," she demands and hurries off, returning a moment later and swapping us lilac robes for shoes. She takes the shoes and hurries over to the fire to set them up to dry.