Raging Storm {book 2 in SOSfanfic series} [ON HOLD]

Dream Sleep

Reyna descented from the steps of the carriage with as much grace as she could muster. That still wasn't enough for the concierge to prevent him from popping his mouth open when he caught a sight of her. Swaying slightly, she walked over to him while Mr. Ambrose put a firm arm around her waist.
"I'm so sorry if I've been rising complications, good sir. But I was feeling quite unwell. It must be the food, I think. Pardon my looks. It is difficult for a lady to maintain her attire when she's sick in a foreign country. Even if her darling husband is always there to help her." she smiled tiredly at the concierge and leaned against Mr. Ambrose, lying through her teeth about her face free of any makeup.
"Uh... A-of course, madam. The food, yes it must be the food." The weedy little man nodded till cap was about to fall off.
"Darling, you put too much strain on yourself. And you always look beautiful no matter what." Mr. Ambrose perfectly imitated a caring husband.
Imitated, Reyna, focus.

"Oh no!" The concierge was shaking his head so badly that his hair was in a disarray. "That was not my intention at all! I wasn't- I didn't- no, I mean madam is too beautiful! No offence,  but for a sick lady I was expecting someone looking much much worse. You must be very lucky, good sir, to have such a beautiful wife."

Reyna stilled in surprise. She had just come back from killing more than a dozen men. This wasn't what she was expecting to hear. Breaking the awkward tension between a man who complimented someone else's wife and a man who hired such a  'beautiful' lady to dress up as a man and kill people, she let out a silvery laugh as all the ladies do, she just managed not to sound like a yapping dog.
"Oh, you are too kind." She smiled at the poor boy who looked ready to kiss the floor with his face due to her full smile. Mr. Ambrose's arm tightened around her.
They made their way to the room without any further interruptions. She leaned against her fake husband even in the empty corridors. She was a fine actress and she was still on stage, even if there wasn't a audience.

As soon as the door behind them closed, Mr. Ambrose let the arm around her fall. Missing the heat, Reyna quickly moved towards the bathroom to wash up all the blood that was still on her body. After a refreshing bath, she sauntered out, ignoring Mr. Ambrose's icy glare that was directed at her because she was in the bath too long. As the door of the bathroom slammed shut behind her, she let her wet hair loose and collapsed onto the heavenly white bed and drifted off to sleep.
The last thing she could remember before sleep took her completely was the sound of the bathroom door opening and a frigid voice snapping at her, "what do you think you're doing?"

Reyna woke up as the first ray of sunlight entered the luxurious hotel room through softly billowing white curtains. The sky was amber and the city was starting to murmur, the morning market crying out loud as the dogs barked along. It sounded far away. Where she was, the silence made herself known. A dove flew over the balcony and seated itself on the railing with a loud flutter. It peaked inside the room and cooed softly. The whole atmosphere leaked serenity.

Reyna was at peace. Her mind was quiet. She had no rooftops or windows or shutters to check for snipers. She had no knives strapped to her to prevent her from slouching. She could close her eyes and not be afraid to go to sleep. The thought made her throat close up.
She was who she was because of her anger. She knew she could become a teacher or a mother if she wanted to, and she knew she would do good. But her past memories haunted her present like shadowy ghosts that defined her every sunny day. She knew that holding on to anger was  like  holding on to a burning piece of coal. She was hurting no one else save for her own self. But this anger that she had coiled inside of herself like a venomous serpent helped her to make decisions that never left her vulnerable. It helped her to be ruthless to those who dared provoke her. It helped her to drown out the voice of reason, morals and mercy during a fight. And a part of her loved it. She was looking for revenge, she just wasn't sure about how to sate herself.
And she lived with that.

But it was moments like these, the quiet ones, the ones that made her happy, the ones that filled her with a happiness that doesn't make you jump or laugh, the ones that truly mean something, the ones you can have free of any cost, that she would miss the girl that would wake up at the sounds of the birds chirping and have a bath right outside her window beneath a lush vine, before her mother would wake her up by calling her name in a way only she could. In moments like these would she ever grieve for that girl who died. People with virgin souls, she learned, didn't corrupt, they died. As she had long long ago when she stopped seeing magic wherever she looked.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Rikkard's deeper than usual voice broke her from her train of thoughts bit she kept her eyes on the dove. Her mind still half beneath the blanket of sleep, she murmured an answer before thinking about repercussions.
"It's really peaceful. I love it."
She was met with silence save for the dove, which was still cooing. That was all she needed.

If she was completely awake, she would've expected a mocking answer. After all, assassins don't get drunk on peace. But for Reyna, in this little pocket of time, as long as the dove was near her, nothing else mattered.

Warm air fanned her back. Mornings here should be chilly enough to make her curl up, but strangely she was warm. Even the window was open and all she had to protect herself from the cold was a flimsy cotton sheet. As she awoke, she realised that Mr. Ambrose was sleeping half under her.