Assassin's Creed: Firewall

Mark of the Eagle

Emma blinked into the dawn light, feeling more weary than when she'd gone to sleep. Dragging a hand over her face, she stiffly rolled out of bed, working the kinks from her joints. A bowl of breakfast gruel was on her desk, next to a carefully folded lump of white silk. She frowned, wondering how long it had been there. Stepping towards it, she found the food still warm. Her stomach twisted at the idea of eating but she forced it down anyway.

Altair hadn't said no, after all. She'd just have to hold onto that for now and not focus on what ifs.

The white silk looked to be the same cut as the dress she was still wearing from yesterday. Cocking her head, she reached for it cautiously, wondering why the fabric looked too...bulky. There was something under it.

No, she mused, there was something in it, carefully wrapped in white to prevent being seen.

Her spirits swelled dramatically at finding her black tank top and uniform pants, cleaned and snuck back to her in the guise of another dress. She didn't know how she could, but she promised herself to repay this kindness to Ishana someday, somehow.

Changing into the new garment, she carefully hid her own clothing in her bag. The red dress tossed carelessly on the bed when a knock sounded at her door. Making sure the bag was out of direct line of sight, she checked who was calling for her with baited breath.

And promptly released it in disappointment at finding one of yesterday's ladies at her door.

A lady in red.

Of course someone else would wear red the day she was given bloody white.

The woman eyed her in annoyance before turning on her heel with a sniff. "Come. Tea is served."

They seemed to have it twice a day, but given that Ishana had shown her which combinations gave her the most caffeine, she didn't mind.

Emma had to suck her lips between her teeth to hold back her amusement at finding several of the younger women in reds almost as sharp as hers had been. Evidently they thought she knew something they didn't about their prize's preferences. More than a few cast a dirty look her way at going with a different color.

Her amusement rapidly turned to a mental curse as she realized once again she would be standing out like a sore thumb. Yesterday the white would have blended with the yellows and creams. Now they were all in vibrant, dark colors. Running her hand through her tangled hair she hadn't bothered to brush, she noted a few had their hair down as well.

Well at least in that she wasn't totally alone anymore.

The day passed as much as it had the one before with them. After tea the ladies gossiped for some time while strolling not quite aimlessly around the castle and grounds, handfuls coming and going when it came time for them to fulfill their castle duties. A tangible excitement rippled through them when they actually managed to glimpse Altair walking away from the training ring. He spared none of them a single glance. It was as if they didn't exist. Despite this, the ladies were not deterred in their goal to snag him for themselves, or sabotage their friends.

Little wonder it was the whores who actually appeared to be the happiest here.

She tried not to read anything into the fact that he ignored her as much as the rest, tried to reason it out in a way that would keep the hope alive. He was still deciding. He wanted to be seen ignoring her so that no one would suspect him of helping. He wanted Abbas to think he didn't care so that he might leave her alone.

He'd promised to see her before he left. He wouldn't be able to claim he'd seen her if he never looked up in the courtyard.

The hours dragged by slowly. The ladies did not relent in their keeping her with them, almost tighter than the day before. She wondered if she would have to do like last night, wait until everyone had gone to bed before slipping out to look for him. But then, she might not get as lucky with finding him and she could just be unlucky enough to run into Abbas again. No, she would be better off to let him find her this time, no matter how much sitting and waiting made her itch. Knowing that all she could do was wait made time tick by like New York traffic in rush hour. It was a struggle to keep her leg from bouncing in anticipation.