Maria shivered, not sure as how to respond to his lewd comments. Normally, a simple slap to the face would have already been inflicted, and she would be on her merry way. This time however, she found the silk in his voice too pleasing to dispatch. She reclined easily against the pillows ensconcing her, and sighed deeply, curiosity keeping her eyes gazing back into his.
Altaïr truly was shocked of his comments; his purpose had been to make friends enough so she would tell him a useful piece of evidence, not so that she would lay with him.
"Al– Almahadi."
She turned to face him, her eyes widened when she gazed upon their amber depths. "I… I see. Well, Almahadi, will you continue to try and seduce me, or do you have more casual conversation to make?"
Altaïr shifted, his smirk fading, "Your master, I wish… I seek an audience with him."
She chuckled softly, "An audience– with you? Good heavens, they must have left you out in the sun too long."
Not wanting to lose his patience this early on, he took a long, slow inhale before his next query, "It is not such an absurd thing to ask. I merely wish a brief moment of his time. Might you ask for me?"
Her brow lifted, "Me? I should think not. We are not to speak unless spoken to. Bloody sod won't let me even complain about the fucking heat in his presence."
The scar on his lip was tugged upwards at her language, "And yet, he allows you to speak with such– vigor?"
She leaned in close to him, lips close enough to his ear for him to brace against a shiver, "I say what I want– I am not of the same temperament as his other whores."
"And how exactly did you come into his service?"
Slowly tracing her tongue down his neck, following a small bead of sweat, she whispered, "How do you think?"
His hands tensed into fists, "Why offer your body to him? Surely there are better things for a woman."
She pulled back ever so slightly, "Oh, we do live lavish lives." She took a sip of water from her goblet, "And there is usually nothing for us to do, save what we want."
"Which is?"
She smirked, "Bathing, grooming, massages, anything really." She rolled her shoulders back, "As long as we remain obedient. Why? Thinking of applying for a position?"
Altaïr groaned inwardly.
I could think of a few for you…
He shook himself, "When does your master retire in the evenings?"
"I don't know- pass me the olives."
He selected the dish she had indicated to, pausing to take one himself as he handed it to her, earning a smirk, "You have no idea?"
"You honestly want to talk to him? About what? A salary increase or something?" Looking out into the crowd she mused, peeling the flesh of the olive between her teeth, "You'd probably get one– he seemed to take an interest in you." Deftly, she grabbed another, eyes still captivated by the swirling skirts of the other dancers.
The hard pit of the olive rolled around between his teeth as he thought on his feet, "If I were to ask, would he hear my question?"
"I could pass it onto him, if you'd like."
"Ah– no, I need to do… I would feel more comfortable asking him in person."
She nodded, a disinterested air settling over her features once again. The contents of the dish seemed to be rapidly depleting, and Altaïr grabbed the last two in his hand before she could eat them. Lips parted in surprise, she gave him a reprimanding look, which he ignored.
"You're not even supposed to eat those– those were his favourite, you know."
Fuck.
I could have used those…
"He seems to be enjoying other delicacies." He pointed briefly to where Mamraj stood against a pillar, cajoling one of the dancers, holding her hand near to his lips.
Maria grimaced, " I still wanted one you know."
Altaïr held one between his teeth, amusing himself at the face she made. His smile quickly vanished when he felt her fingers grab his chin; her own mouth covered his quickly. His eyes widened, and he tried to pull back, only succeeding in having her follow him further over, her hand coming to rest on his thigh. Her teeth tried to grasp the olive, nearly taking a chunk of his lip in the process. He growled when she smiled back at him contently, olive protruding from her own lips.
Two can play at your game.
The pause of triumphant gloating ultimately cost her the accomplishment, wrapping a hand around her arm, he pulled her further into his lap, and captured her lips. Having not anticipated retaliation was her failing, and she scoffed slightly at his enthusiasm, and tried to pull away from him. When she felt his tongue run, hot and wet over her lips, her body betrayed her, and she surrendered her prize to him. Half lidded from their pursuits, his eyes betrayed his arousal more so than his husky voice did, "I didn't think you'd give it up that easily."
She dismissed him, instead running her hand on his thigh up to his lap, grasping him through his pants. A groan rumbled in his throat, and he bared his teeth from her grasp. The other harem girls sat nearby, chatting and giggling despite what transpired to their right. Every second that passed, Altaïr desired more so for her to cease her motions, feeling his body near closer to betraying him with each minute motion. His eyes shot a warning that she chose to ignore, her other hand firmly grasping his chin, forcing him to look up to her. Eyes narrowing, her lip curled in a way that he would have wished it couldn't, and he felt a moan pass through his clenched teeth as she squeezed him tighter.
She smirked, "You'd like me to, wouldn't you?" She whispered next to his mouth, lips nearly driving him to pieces at their proximity. Then, just as he caved, turning his head to silence her promiscuous lips, she stood slowly in front of him. Without another word or gesture, she sashayed away, casting a sultry glance over her shoulder, olive in her teeth.
Chewing contentedly, she sauntered into the cool embrace Mamraj's quarters offered. Her feet slapped softly on the marble floor as she traipsed through the empty halls, curious at the lack of guards and handmaidens.
Peculiar.
She stepped into one of Mamraj's private rooms, assuming her usual position on the pile of cushions, along with a few others girls who had followed her. Arranging herself, she grimaced at the mundane whispers of conversation she could pick out amongst their conversation.
Just when I thought I'd get some peace and quiet.
The sounds of the instruments seemed to drift closer, soon entering the room behind Mamraj, and a few of his hand-selected guests. Most were of noble birth, or high in military rank– all of which seemed to be enjoying their overflowing wine cups, ending up sputtering about like fools.
Graceless imbeciles. I do suppose being the only sober person in the room has its benefits.
She reclined further, closing her eyes for a moment. The garbled giggles of the other harem girls forced her eyes open with a twitch.
Now if only the drunken twits beside me would shut up, I might be able to enjoy myself.
The party had only seemed to pick up after entering the smaller private chambers. The musicians performed from a corner, however, their volume appeared to any guest, regardless of proximity, to be coming from directly beside them. Mamraj made his way around between groups of dancing girls, and the dignitaries scattered in their stupor. Beside Mamraj, there stood the constant wine bearer, head held low in respect, but eyes somehow catching the ever-changing level of wine in his master's goblet.
Her brow furrowed, Has his servant grown from a boy to a man in my absence? And his hair– Almahadi! What the hell does he want?
Carefully keeping track of his movements through narrowed eyes, she peeled a section of a date, chewing thoroughly while she mused. The other guests appeared oblivious to the change, merely whispering amongst themselves in shouts, or twirling haphazardly along with the music. After refilling Mamraj's goblet, the servant bowed quickly, and mumbled something to his master, receiving a wave of fingers and a nod. Frowning, as he turned quickly on his heel, she watched him weave through the drunken guests, avoiding their arms and raucous laughs in the process.
Where are you going now?
Her eyes returned to Mamraj, who stood clutching at the curves of a harem girl, her smile evident beneath her veil. She chewed on her lip, waiting for Almahadi to return. Exhaling with relief, she watched him stride into the room, gait rather self-assured for a mere servant. He lowered the fresh pitcher, placing it on a banquet table in the room's corner, abandoned for its lack of food. To any other guest, his actions would have been so commonplace, that under the haze of the wine, he would have passed by unnoticed. Curious, she watched as he took a small canister from his sash, emptying it into the wine.
Her eyes widened.
Not on your life!
Her mission's importance burned in her stomach, nearly causing her to gag as she closed her eyes. Now she could imagine him striding over to Mamraj, watching the goblet being refilled, and her target slumped to the floor; too soon would she fail.
She swallowed hard, Perhaps I can still bring Robert the damned Assassin who cost me my mission.
She quickly tip-toed through the crowd to the room's only exit, hurrying into the dim corridor. She searched for a place to hide herself, preparing a plan of attack for when she would hear the Assassin leave.
Just as she arranged herself behind a large pillar, a great commotion rose behind her, and her breath caught for a moment. She knew Mamraj had collapsed in a spasm, his hands digging at his throat, eyes lolling about it his head. Despite the dark, she had managed to find a decent loop of cord used for the ornamental banners Mamraj kept in his halls. She wound it tight in her hand, puling against it to test its hold.
Can't say I'll mourn his loss. Though Robert might have my head for allowing him to die so easily...
Maria's mouth hardened, and her breath was shallow as she waited for him, muscles coiled.
Altaïr slipped out of the room, grateful for once at the lack of restraint the dignitaries had shown when it came to alcohol. Blinking a few times to allow his eyes to adjust, he paused for the briefest of seconds before breaking into a sprint. He had not gotten two hundred paces from the room, when something sprung from the darkness, in its collision, wrenching him off balance and sending him down to the hard floor. A grunt escaped him as his chin hit the floor, filling his mouth with a sharp metallic taste he was all too familiar with. His hands had been pulled behind him, and he felt something familiar to a rope being wrapped around them. He rolled over quickly, sending his assailant onto the floor, as he quickly slipped out of their unfinished bind. Before she had a chance to right herself, Altaïr straddled her, flipping her onto her back roughly.
Maria grunted, and opened her mouth to scream his whereabouts, when a hand closed around her neck. She wriggled frantically under him, trying by any means to remove the Assassin.
Altaïr leaned his head down, slamming his weight onto her fully, hips pressing her painfully into the floor, "Cease your struggle woman– or I will be forced to silence you."
Try as she might, even her vexation at the way her plan had unfolded couldn't keep her from shivering at the low growl his voice had become. The edges of her vision began to fade into darkness, and she was left with no choice but to comply. Mouth set it a scowl, she waited for him to lessen his grip around her neck, but to her surprise, it appeared he truly intended on strangling her.
His lips neared her ear, she could feel the way the words formed behind his bared teeth, "If you make the slightest sound, I will break your neck."
She felt the grip of his hand release, and her body was wracked by the urge to cough. Blood ran from under her teeth, which sank into her lips. Above her, Altaïr struggled to tie her properly with her constant movement. Rolling his hips forward to put more weight on her, his stern mouth faltered, regretting his decision immediately. Frustrated with too many things on top of his own body's agenda, he grabbed her by the shoulders, and slammed her down to the ground again, "I said keep still." He seethed.
Finally, his fingers had managed to fumble the rope into knots, and he stood over her, giving her a solid kick in the abdomen before turning to run again.
Pain blossomed through her, as she lay in a fetal position. Teeth bared against the agony he delivered, she contorted herself to grab a small blade sewn into her skirts, tearing it out unceremoniously. Through her rage, she managed to saw through the thick cord, running on adrenaline to climb to the roof, surveying the surroundings. Her peripherals caught the movement of the Assassin's route on the rooftop of a souk, and Maria let out a strangled cry for an archer. One stumbled over, yelling at her in Arabic, surely informing her she was not permitted to be up here. With a deft throw, she lodged her knife into his eye socket, wrenching the readied bow from his grasp, and taking aim at her fleeing target.
A/N
Almahadi- 'Guided to the right path'
Oh irony…
