Aveline's first thought, when she heard the knock on the door, was that Marie was astoundingly on time to go shopping for new dresses and shoes. Her second thought, when she opened the door, was that she was being visited. Her third thought, when Haytham failed to attack her, was that she should lighten the pressure of her hidden blades on his neck, because he was, after all, her friend's father. "What are you doing here?" she asked warily. "And how did you know where to find me?"
He raised his chin and somehow managed to look haughty, instead of like he was avoiding having his throat slit. "A Master Templar lived here for many years. Of course I know the address."
Aveline's fourth thought was sheer terror. "Is Shay well?" It wouldn't be fair, if something had happened to him. She'd only just recognized the feeling in her heart as love for him; she hadn't had a chance to see him again in person, after that one meeting in France before she'd... known him so well.
Haytham held up his hands as if to quell her fearful thoughts. "He is well, so far as I know. And I believe he has struck a truce with Connor."
Aveline retracted her blades and crossed her arms over her chest. "Then what brings you here, Haytham Kenway?"
He gestured into the doorway. "Shared interests that I'd rather not discuss outside." When she frowned, he sighed. "I have been here before, you know."
She scowled. "When?"
He smiled tightly. "I remember a cat you used to have, an orange one. You and I ran up and down the hallway with a string, laughing at your cat skidding on the floor as she tried to catch it."
She stared at him. She'd thought it only her imagination, the little boy who was so taken with her cat. He'd told her that he only had a dog and a guinea pig at home. "What was her name?"
"Pierre. You thought she was male until she left kittens on your pillow."
"My stepmother could have told you all this."
"Your stepmother didn't know that we hid from her in a pile of leaves on the street, because she never found you until you went back in because you were hungry. May I come in?"
She wordlessly showed him to the parlor, but once he sat down and she sent the maid to go make him tea, she demanded, "What shared interests bring the Grand Master of the Colonial Rite to my house?"
"Curiosity, for one. I wished to meet in person the woman who has captured Shay Cormac's heart so fully."
She blushed, high up on her cheekbones. "Is that all?"
"I also wished to meet in person every visitor contemporaneous with me-this is a goal I believe you have now completed as well?"
She nodded. "Curiosity and a sense of completion, that is all?"
He leaned forward in his chair, all business. "Since you killed your stepmother, no single Templar has control of this area; instead, two men vie for supremacy."
She nodded. "I am aware of the situation."
He leaned back, nodding. "I am here to kill them both."
"Do you kill other Templars often?"
"As needed."
She smirked. "Careful. Some might take you for an Assassin."
"It's been known to happen."
She examined a conclusion that had popped into her head, debated saying something, finally settled on, "And was that how Connor came to be?"
His brief expression of shock was priceless, but the pain in his voice filled her with regret for her pointed words. "Even so."
She cleared her throat. "I assume you wish me to help you dispose of these two men. Why should I, though? What if I wish to kill the stronger of the two, leaving the weak one to mismanage my enemies and leave them vulnerable to my depredations?"
"France is, as I'm sure you noticed, racing towards a revolution of its own. Aside from their own personal shortcomings, which are severe, both of these men maintain ties to the French crown. Should the crown fall, they might make trouble, which would spread into the former colonies that I have worked so hard to make peaceful and orderly."
"And your solution, instead?"
"A puppet of sorts; a Spanish merchant, who will not care one whit for unrest in France. You will approve; he is weak enough that you should retain your power over New Orleans."
"This is acceptable to you? An Assassin ascendant over your Templars?"
Haytham smirked. "An Assassin I can work with? Yes. An Assassin who will not kill Templars out of hand? Yes. An Assassin I couldn't kill anyway if I wish to retain the loyalty of the most useful man I have left? Obviously."
Aveline frowned in disbelief. "You think Shay's loyalty to your Order has been compromised by me?"
"I would not test it so grievously."
"You are an unexpectedly considerate man."
"I am a pragmatic man. Why oppose Assassins when I have Templars who need killing?"
"Of course that is your only aim."
"Naturally."
Two days later, they found themselves back to back in a dirty alleyway, his sword and her machete carving through some guards that she thought might have been avoided if they'd just gone around that one corner instead of the other. She realized that, one, there were two Templars in the world that she would trust at her back in a fight. And two, Haytham was both an amazingly good fighter and perfectly accommodating to her own style. It was a waste that Connor would not make peace with his father, and Aveline wished she could do something about it. But she'd seen Connor, face painted and head shaved, so remote from the Connor that was her friend, and she knew that he'd done something he regretted furiously.
"Aveline!" snapped Haytham.
Her attention had wandered, and she got a slice across her arm for her troubles. She immobilized the man with her whip and hacked into his neck, took out the man behind him, and realized there was nobody standing but the two of them. "Are there more?"
They both scanned the nearby area, and Haytham shook his head. "None for now." He began to clean his sword while Aveline patched her wound.
She looked up, stared vacantly for about a second, then ducked her head, smiling. "Oh! You're still here!" The entire tone of her voice had changed.
"Where else would I have gone?" he asked peevishly.
"I don't know," she mumbled. "How long was I gone for?"
"A second, no more." He frowned and looked at her arm. The blood had fully clotted, and it was neatly stitched.
"Oh, but this is marvelous! I've never seen anyone when they left to go visiting before!" Her entire demeanor was markedly different, and Haytham guessed she'd been with Shay. "What did I look like?"
"You, ah, merely looked distracted for an instant." He cleared his throat and gestured to her arm. "Shay's handiwork, I presume?"
She nodded, her cheeks darkening with her blush. "I-often, after a fight, I find myself...with him..." She looked anywhere but at Haytham.
"Well...ah...he has deft hands."
"That he does."
"With a needle, I meant."
"Oh! Yes, of course."
Haytham cleared his throat. "I think we'd better get back to your house. This was obviously a dead end."
"Obviously." Her lips were swollen from kissing, and she looked quite disheveled. One of her braids was coming loose, her clothes were rumpled (as if they were on the floor for some time, Haytham tried not to think) and her eyes were a bit glassy. "I'm sorry, Haytham, I don't mean to be..." She gestured to her general disarray. "We're on a mission, after all."
"Well, you can't control when you leave," he allowed. "And obviously, when you have a chance to spend time with him..."
"And after fighting, I feel like an overwound clock," she tried to explain. "He-being with him-it helps."
He frowned. "I've never felt...like that after a battle. When I was with Ziio, we were...at peace." He nodded reflectively. "It was actually quite nice, for those few weeks, not to have to kill anyone. She even did the hunting for our dinner."
Aveline looked up at him. "You never talk about her."
He shrugged. "I see no point in it. It's over. It's beyond over. And, given everything, perhaps I should regret it. But I honestly can't." He smirked. "Do try not to have children who wish to kill you. It's quite distressing."
"I'll keep that in mind, should I have the chance."