Despite its location in London, the last thing that belonged in Henry Green's Curio Shoppe was the smell of smog; the air was always warm and smelling like cardamom and cherry tobacco despite Evie never having seen Henry light up once, and the entire abode reminded of a warmer place and sunnier times. Like its owner, it never failed to make her feel safe. Then why was she feeling so anxious?
Evie sighed, running the chain through her fingers. She didn't like keeping rings on—they always got in the way of gloves or gauntlets, and she was always taking those on or off in any case. More often than not, her hands were blood-slicked and the very thought of this particular object being even near the stuff made her shiver.
She had said yes when Henry had asked. Of course she said yes. That's why she had the ring. It was a beautiful thing, although Henry always insisted that he could get better, that she deserved better, but she was convinced that it was just perfect, not matter how much Henry insisted. It was rose gold, intricate with the assassin's symbol engraved into it and topped with a perfect-in-every-way 14 carat diamond held in a delicate filigree of cobalt steel. She loved him and he loved her; isn't marriage what people did when that happened? She sighed as she heard Henry's footsteps, already buttoning up the loose white shirt he wore underneath his assassin's tunic, hair still damp from the bath he'd had. Perhaps it's just the wedding.
He smiled, she smiled back; he could still make butterflies flit in her stomach, even as she got to know him. "Something troubling you?" Very briefly, she considered lying, but then what good would it do? He could read her like an open book-something that only Jacob could do, although with Jacob, it's less knowing there was a lie and more inferring it. In the end, she decided on the truth. "I'm worried about how Jacob might take this." Henry tilted his head. "What do you mean? About the wedding?" Evie sighed. She was going to have to tell him sooner or later. Henry just assumed that she would tell the only family she had left that it was going to have an addition, but he assumed wrong, and Evie could not, for the life of her, think of why. "I haven't..." Henry picked up on it immediately, both of his eyebrows rising in an incredulous look. Even that gave her butterflies-heck, just being next to him made something in her stomach titter happily around. "He doesn't know?"
She swallowed, but then instantly scolded herself. She was an assassin and a dame and her own woman, not a lovesick girl that needed someone to hold her hand. Just his hand, something treacherous whispered in the back of her mind before being quashed viciously, as if she had caught herself doing something illegal. Evie shrugged miserably. "Nothing- about us, or the marriage...There just wasn't any time, with him and the Rooks and everything that's happened." She tacked on the last bit, as if to justify the weak excuse. Henry shook his head, putting his hands on the balcony."This cannot continue-" Like Henry was a belter yelling cues for a stage play, a knock from the main house startled the both of them out of their discussion. They immediately stiffened, the easy sense of camaraderie forgotten as years of mutual assassin training kicked in. They weren't expecting anyone for the day-even Jacob gave them some form of notice before barging in on them. The sight of a bird on the wing, or a phantom glint in the shadows of sunlight dancing off cold steel—it was an assassin thing, a sense of intuition only strengthened because of their closeness.
There had been no such signs today.
Soundlessly and seamlessly, the two assassins made their way through the parlour, blades readying as the did so. Halfway to the door, the knocking changed in tempo-the distinct tattoo that reminded Evie of a pub song. Her eyes widened as she realised which, but she repressed the urge to run to the door, instead glancing at Henry. He got the message, keeping his weapon up as she addressed the door. The locks were undone and the door swung open revealing—
four Rooks, weapons lax at their sides.
Upon closer inspection, there were two more near the rear, supporting someone who was half hidden by the rest of them. The weapons held in their white-knuckled grips had beads of scarlet that dribbled irregularly onto the doorstep. Drip. "Miss Frye." The first said, sounding slightly breathless—like a man who needed things done, and quickly at that. True enough and without another word, the Rooks parted for the other two near the rear who then half-carried the person between them over the threshold.
It was Jacob.
"Jacob!" She wanted to rush to help, but she knew that another person would just get into the way. She did a double take— a little start and then a dash towards Jacob's prone form, but then swallowed and let the rest of the Rooks in. After scanning the streets, she closed the door behind them.