The Pirate, The Princess and The Assassin

Daeth

Adalinda grunted as the wooden staff connected with her abdomen, knocking the wind from her lungs. Cahira had no mercy. If Adalinda had known what it would be like to train with The Assassin, she would have chosen someone else.

“Don’t drop your heel,” Cahira reminded as she landed another blow on Adalinda’s jaw, making the princess straighten from her previously hunched position. Cahira took advantage of her exposed torso and landed another blow to the ribs, “Don’t straighten out.”

The Princess was breathing hard as she took a few steps back to drop the staff and rest her hands on her knees. Her stomach rolled – the combination of the exercise, pain and rocking motion of the ship made her feel sick.

“You need better breath control,” Cahira stated. They had been on the dimly lit deck for hours and the female had not even taken one uneven breath. She was not mean, which surprised Adalinda. The Assassin was kind and patient. She took time to explain in detail – the how’s and why’s – as well as correct in a gentle way. She allowed The Princess breaks when she needed them and moments to collect herself when it was too overwhelming.

“And how do I do that?” Adalinda tilted her head upwards. Her hair was mostly plastered to her damp skin as sweat dripped into her eyes. In that moment she hated Cahira for looking as immaculate as ever. The Princess remembered The Bana-mhaighstir from when she was younger, the way she used to sweep the palace halls like a wraith. She was always dressed in black fighting leathers with her hair in a neat braid. Even when she would return with wounds, covered in blood and gore and dirt, she looked elegant. Adalinda supposed it was the way she walked – soft and rhythmic. She thought deeply but could not recall ever seeing The Assassin dishevelled or even just dressed in a casual way. She had never even seen her hair out of a braid.

“You practice,” Cahira smiled at her. It was not malicious but not quite friendly either – maybe amused.

“How did you get so good at all...” Adalinda gestured to the ring and weapon rack and the space between then, “this?”

“I was trained for it,” was her only answer.

“Were you always The Bana-mhaighstir?” Adalinda asked in an attempt to stall. She was exhausted, her muscles ached in places she did not know muscles could ache. She just needed a moment.

“No,” Cahira sighed, “I was not always The Bana-mhaighstir.”

“How did you become The Bana-mhaighstir?” Adalinda pressed.

“Why don’t you sit and stretch,” Cahira diverted, “I will clean all this up.”

“Thank the Gods.” The Princess collapsed onto the floor to stretch her shaky legs while Cahira packed their equipment away.

“Are you to going to tell the story?” It was Keisha who asked as she strolled from her office.

“Can you hear everything?” Adalinda shot straight as she sat. There had been many a curse word slip from her lips while training and she would prefer if The Captain had not heard them.

“She hears all. Sees all. Knows all,” Cahira whispered like one would a ghost story. It was strange for The Princess to see her like that – like a normal female who joked and laughed. Her joking caused a smile to grace The Captains face as she sat on the mat with her legs stretched in front of her and her body propped at an angle by her outstretched arms. Like one would at a picnic.

“Story time,” Keisha insisted. Cahira sat next to The Captain as Adalinda finished her stretches.

“You’ve heard this one a million times.” Cahira had a lazy smile, one that made her look content.

“The Princess has not,” Keisha stared Cahira down. They had a strange dynamic, Adalinda concluded. Though she supposed centuries of friendship would look something like this. She had never had friends, true friends at least, so this was new to her. The ladies of the court were knifing and only interested in advancing their positions. There was not an ounce of competition here – only an abundance of love.

“Fine,” Cahira conceded, “I will tell the story of how I became The Bana-mhaighstir.”

“This is my favourite one,” Keisha said to Adalinda.

“I was born in a village in South-East Tír,” the two females said together.

“Who is telling this story?” Cahira glared.

“You,” Keisha had a mischievous smile.

“And when I was seventeen, Death arrived on our doorstep,” Keisha continued to speak with Cahira.

“You have heard this story far too many times,” Cahira scolded in a playful manner.

“You just tell it the same way every time,” Keisha countered.

“You know what, I don’t think I'll tell it.”

“Oh, don’t be shy, Hira. I’m sure Adalinda will see you do worse than what’s in that tale,” Keisha mocked.

Cahira reached out and pushed Keisha while sticking her tongue out.

“You are so mean to me,” Cahira feigned hurt.

“Can I just ask a question?” The Princess interjected.

“Sure,” Cahira smiled at her.

“Can you summon Death?” Adalinda asked, “I have heard he takes on a fae form.”

“Death does not like to be told what to do,” Cahira shook her head with a playful eye roll.

“He’s a little moody,” Keisha chipped in.

“I resent that,” a male voice sounded around them. It made Adalinda jump, but Keisha and Cahira remained calm.

“Are you eaves dropping on our girl talk?” Cahira replied to the voice.

“I like to know what is being said about me,” the voice was deep and sensual. It made Adalinda’s belly tighten in a way she had never experienced before.

“You are welcome to join us,” Keisha called out, “Lurking in The Other is a little creepy.”

“I will stay exactly where I am, thank you.”

“You know Death has the smallest d**k I have ever seen in my entire life,” Cahira held her hand to the side of her mouth and leaned closer to Keisha and Adalinda in a playful manner.

“I can still hear you,” Death’s voice turned irritated.

“I thought you wanted to know what was being said about you,” Cahira was barely holding in her laugh, “Maybe if you joined us, we would stop trash talking you.”

“Fine.” A sigh followed before a tall male figure emerged onto the deck. Adalinda’s breath caught in her throat. He was easily the most beautiful Faerie she had ever seen. His hair was a deep black that had a blue tint when it caught the light, and his chocolate brown eyes were easy to get caught in. His skin was pale, made even paler by the dark clothing he adorned.

The male sat directly opposite Adalinda, between Keisha and Cahira, with his legs crossed and one arm stretched out behind him that he rested his body weight on. It was possibly the strangest thing she had ever experienced in her life – sitting on a pirate ship with the female who attempted to kill her, across from a casually sitting Death incarnate, talking about nothing of great importance.

~

“He ordered me to kill you,” Cahira sat on the edge of The King’s bed.

“I knew he would,” The King of Land did not seem upset by the news. She knew that he was ready to die – he had been since the moment his mate had passed during childbirth. The soon to be Reagent could not comprehend the mercies he had granted. The first was to The King: he would have a swift, painless death at Cahira’s hand and finally join his mate. The second was to The Princess: she was young so would have good memories of her father without fully comprehending the pain and loss of his death.

“Cahira,” he whispered into the space between them, soft hand reached up to cup her cheek. They were lovers, she loved him, but knew that she was nothing but a distraction from the gut-wrenching pain of losing the love of his life, “Promise me you will look after her.”

“I promise.” She would not cry, not as Death placed a hand on her shoulder.

“My darling Anya,” he closed his eyes to speak.

She could not do this – her hands trembled, lower lips quivered as she raised the knife to his beard clad throat and…

“No!” Cahira shouted into the dark. Her hair stuck to the sweat slick skin as her hand brushed it away from her face. Knowing sleep would never return, she readied for the day. The morning air was warm and heavy as spring began to melt into summer. The wet railing was still cool as it bit through her shirt sleeves and pierced her forearms.

The lights from a Terra port shone in the darkness. Terra: The Land of Truth. She had not been this close to Terra in 400 years. The earth caused vivid dreams of truths buried deep within the soul. Truths Cahira would prefer to remain six feet under.

“Yes?” Cahira said into the darkness of the deck.

“I did not mean to disturb,” The Princess’s soft voice called out. A smile graced Cahira’s lips as she pushed off the railing. She would have to beat the niceties out of Adalinda so she could live outside of the palace walls.

“No interruption.” Cahira surveyed The Princess as she stalked towards her – a pair of Cahira’s fighting leathers that were the wrong shape, too short and wide on her muscle less frame, her old sailing boots and hair neatly braided. If her father could see her now, he would have Cahira’s head on a silver platter. She still stood like a princess – legs together, shoulders back, hands clasped in front of her, head held high. She simply lacked the tiara that usually rested on her golden hair. “Why are you awake?”

“I had a terrible dream,” The Princess admitted, much to Cahira’s surprise.

“Terra will have that effect,” she comforted before heading back to the railing.

“Terra?” Adalinda asked as she moved closer to Cahira.

“Surely your governess taught you of the world?” Cahira looked to her. The far-off city lights cast a glow onto The Princess’s face. It made her look haunted – sharp cheek bones, thin lips, dull eyes.

“I was taught the geography, not the truth.”

“Terra is known as The Land of Truth. The magic surrounding the royals seeped into the land a long time ago. When on Terra soil, one can only tell the truth. No secrets are kept, no lies may be uttered. When close to the land, one experiences dreams of untold truths – truths buried so deep, they rock your soul with the need to be revealed.”

“Why was my dream about the night we left?” Adalinda looked down at Cahira. The Princess was taller even without her usual heels.

“I am keeping a truth you seek.”

“What is the truth?”

Cahira sighed. It was a vague question. There were many truths surrounding that night. If The Assassin had to tell them all, she would never stop talking. She also would not answer a question that had not been asked. The Princess could only handle so much – everything would be revealed in time, when she could absorb it in small doses rather than one long sitting.

“Be more specific,” was what Cahira landed on.

“Why did you want me dead?”

“That is not what you wish to know,” Cahira could not help her smile, “If I wanted you dead, you would be.”

She watched the struggle in Adalinda’s eyes before The Princess let out a sharp breath, “Why did you leave me alive?”

“I made a promise,” Cahira started, “One to your father. I will look after you Cahira. I will protect you until my dying breath. So, whether you like it or not, we are tethered together until I die.”

“You knew him?” That was what she had taken from what Cahira said. She did not protest Cahira’s presence in her life which brought a sense of peace to Cahira’s decision.

“We were lovers after your mother died,” Cahira gripped the railing so tightly the wood groaned. Her and The King had been lovers in the loosest sense of the word. Cahira had loved him – he was the second male she had ever been in love with. He did not love her. He was mourning his mate the only way he knew how. Some nights he would ask Cahira to wear her perfume and just lay in his arms. Some night the s*x had been so rough it bordered on torturous pain. The King never would have killed himself, he loved his daughter too much. But the pain of losing a mate was too much to bear. He never would have recovered. She had not even given him the chance to.

“Lovers?” Adalinda tilted her head, blonde waves falling over her shoulder, “I thought you and my uncle were lovers.”

Cahira let out a sharp laugh at that, “I was blood bound to your uncle. I was never anything more than his puppet.”

“Blood bound?”

“You truly know nothing of the world, do you?” It struck her in that moment, how sheltered Adalinda had been. She knew nothing of anything.

“I was taught everything I needed to find a suitable husband to be King,” the sadness in her voice, Cahira realised, was beyond The Princess’s control, “nothing more than enough to be a good wife and mother.”

It broke something in Cahira to see a female so helpless. A princess, who should have access to everything the world could offer, was denied so much.

“Then we will teach you of the world,” Keisha’s voice sounded as she emerged from her office. Cahira smiled as Adalinda jumped slightly.

“You will?” The Princess’s eyes light up in delight.

“If you’re stuck with Hira, you’re stuck with me too,” Keisha took the spot next to Cahira on the railing, so close that Cahira could lean her shoulder on The Captain’s, “and knowing about the world will keep you alive so less work for the rest of us.”

The rest of the crew started to filter out from below deck which cut their conversation short.

“Okay, Hira,” Caeleb yawned and stretched as he walked towards her, “we drew names and I’m with you today.”

Cahira laughed as she caught Adalinda drooling over the first mate. She walked over, allowed him to hook his arm around her shoulder as he guided her to the mat. These people were the last family she had left. For Adalinda’s sake, she hoped they became that to The Princess as well.