Bound To Kill

V: Bound To Avoid

Evangeline

A knock interrupts our conversation. We were talking about each others' lives until an unexpected visitor arrives on the doorstep.

"Good evening, ladies." Sebastian greets politely as his hand rests on the tip of his sheathed sword.

The girls all crawled back to their feet and I did so as well, bowing before him. I suddenly confused. If Sebastian is so hated, why is he respected?

"Evangeline Kenway. Are you ready to go?"

I look up obliviously at him, which was a mistake since I am now lost in his manipulative eyes. "Hmm?"

He scoffs, shifting on his stand. "Your task given by the King to come with me, and my men to flee to your attacked village."

"Oh, yes. I am as ready as I was born to be." Although I was not. I walk closer to him and espy every detail of his irises. His eyes are as if a big ice ball of supernova has exploded , much like the Big Bang. "Shall we be off?" He cuts his stare on me as he gives way, stepping out of the door.

"I'll see you later, girls." I tell my new group of friends as they wave goodbye at me.

"Don't make her pregnant, Bash!"

I grimaced at what Gretel shouted after we began heading back to the entrance of the castle.

"I'm sorry about that." Sebastian sighs, letting a pair of maids pass through the almost confined hallway which is the only path back to the castle. "Gretel and her 'sisters', as she likes to call them, can be a little rebellious and wild."

"And now I happen to be a part of them." I grin at him.

He grins back. "I'm glad you liked them. Most of the castle barely does since they're known to be the gossipmongers."

"Do you want me to trust them?"

"I don't want you to not trust them, I need you to. They're gonna spread your secrets if you tell them." He says. "Well, except for Rosalind. At least she's friendly."

"She's mute."

"And that's why she's friendly."

Most of the walk was all about Gretel and the girls. I wonder why. Perhaps Sebastian has a past with one of them, with Hansel or with Rosalind?

"The horses are ready, sir." A soldier reports immediately after we step out of the castle.

A squad of horses scattered around the road, half of them already taken except for two white and black ones.

"Should I take the white or you take her?" Bash questions.

I can sense he wants the black. But I have my chances.

"No, you take her." I begin to mount on the black horse. I used to ride a horse back at England. Her name was Gray, because her color was grey but her mane was white. She died a year ago, and I was forced to take on missions without ever riding a horse nor driving a carriage because I prefer Gray.

What can I say? I've got a sensitive heart.

"Okay, then." Bash gets on the white horse without showing disapproval on his face. He glances at my hand holding the horse's mane except for the saddle's handle. "You're fond of riding horses saddle-less?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because they deserve to be free, like we deserve to be free of whatever we do." I say, proud of myself. This was the Creed of my Order, likewise. I glance at Sebastian whose eyes shine like starlight. "Are you falling in love with me?" I imagine asking this to Alexander if we weren't related.

"Maybe." Bash snorted and looks away shyly. "You are a sight for sore eyes."

"Is that a threat?" I was glad this conversation started with the others already getting ahead of us. They wouldn't be annoying like I am when I eavesdrop at my target's conversations.

He moves his gaze to the road, calling his men to stay close while we enter the woods.

"Why? What's wrong with the woods?" My nosiness asks.

"Remember the Pagans? The ones you said who took care of you?"

I nod my head. A part of me is laughing for the lie I've just bestowed them, and it just so happens that there are people living in the depths of these woods.

"They live in these woods and they're not really as friendly as you have seen them. You know, when you said they took care of you, that made me shocked. Pagans are only friendly to their own kind."

"I'm not a Pagan, and neither are my parents. We're pure Catholics."

"I've seen my share of strangeness, aye." He mimicks my Welsh accent, though that sent a chill to my spine.

"You think I'm a Pagan?"

"Yes, but it's only a hypothesis I'm about to theorize." He says with a knowing smile.

If he finds out about me, not a Pagan but an Assassin, I'm dead as a person sentenced to be beheaded.

His eyes want me to trust him, because they look like they only follow to those who deserve followers. But I worry the rest of him ain't. He's a son of my supposed-to-be target, he could be loyal to his father.

So I really mustn't trust anyone, not even the ones my heart calls trustworthy.

"What's that on your wrist?"

My wrist blades. No I left it back at my cottage. He must meant about my tattoo/mark of the Assassin insignia.

I had it the day I graduated my training.

I roll my sleeve up and show him my mark without doubt. "It's my religion's symbol."

"What religion?"

Three seconds of combining random thoughts later, "Islam, a famous religion in the Middle East."

"Never heard of it."

"You mustn't be an adventurous lad, then."

"But I recognize your accent. It's Welsh, isn't it?"

"Aye. But I rarely use them after I migrated here with my family from Wales." God, I'm so good at making lies sound like facts.

"You're English." It comes out like a fact rather than a question. "What does your religion believe in?"

"Diversity. Unity. Holy. Mainly, Freedom."

Silence creeps in from the woods that was no less than a meter away from the road. So I had an idea. "What do you say we have a little race?" I ask with a smirk.

"No, thank you. Women are most likely to fail-"

It was too late for him for I have already dashed through, proudly accepting the position of being first place if this really were a race.

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