Chapter Twenty-Four;
The Weight of Choice
"Art thou in the Darkness?
Well mind it not, for if thou dost it will feed thee more.
But stand still, and act not, and wait in patience,
Till Light arises out of the Darkness and leads thee."
James Naylor
It was not long after Cora left that she regretted her rash actions. Though she was still upset with Victoire, the fires of anger that had burned in her belly had calmed. In all honesty, she wished to return, but her stubbornness kept her from doing so. To make matters worse, she had stormed out without any weapons or her coin purse. It was an odd feeling not to have some kind of blade or firearm attached to her, and it was not one she particularly enjoyed, especially in Boston of all places. Sighing, she continued toward the market, hoping to busy her mind and stall for more time before she had to go back and face Victoire again.
Though Cora had considered the damage her departure could do, hearing it from another only made it seem more real. Yet despite Oliver's proximity, who knew where he truly was? It wasn't as if they had him on the run, or even had a strong lead as to where exactly he was. Sure, he may be somewhere in Boston, but Cora knew that did not exactly narrow down the realm of possible hideouts he may be using. Perhaps if she had a strong lead, a clue that was more useful than that he was somewhere in a city of tens of thousands of people, and chose to ignore it, she would understand Victoire's position. Yet that was not so! Finding him could still be months of work away, even if she devoted her every moment to the task.
And Connor... Of course she had no desire to leave him behind, but he had not seemed overly opposed to her decision – at least not any more than was expected. Surely he would have spoken if he wanted her to stay, or thought it was a bad idea. Sighing, she let her eyes wander over the many stalls that made up the market, trying to ignore her building hunger. There was fruit in one stall, tobacco in another, and more in the distance displayed items such as hair ribbons and lace caps. As she spotted a man yelling advertisements for his hats, she suddenly remembered the day Connor had gotten her a tricorne when she had been so nervous about being spotted. Eyes still on the stand, she was hit by a wave of longing.
In her distraction, she did not see the person walking in front of her, and ran into him rather forcefully. Cora tried to collect herself, pulling away so as not to cause a further scene. Just as she opened her mouth to mutter her apologies, he spoke in a voice that made her blood run cold.
"Sorry, miss," he said simply, his voice calm and cool, so unrepresentative of the person to which she knew it belonged. Her face snapped up, and as she backed away, already trying to figure out a way out of this, another man appeared at her side. Thomas reached for her, and as she wrenched herself away, she looked around, hoping that some kind passer-by would see her distress and come to her aid. Perhaps in accordance with her streak of ill luck, none noticed anything out of the ordinary. Grabbing her skirts, she meant to make a run for it, but as Thomas again took a step toward her, she felt the other man shove something hard against her ribs, taking hold of her arm with his other hand.
Cora froze, knowing well the feel of the barrel of a gun. Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her mind, not wanting the fear to cloud her judgment.
"Come now," he said in a hushed voice, taking the other man's place and leading her toward a small alleyway between two buildings. "We only want to talk."
"The hell you do," she hissed, though she did not struggle. As he pulled her roughly behind another building, she cursed herself for being so foolish as to go out unarmed, even if it was by impulse. When they rounded a corner, she saw Oliver standing there with two other men. Then, the fear she had managed to cage released within her all at once, and she struggled against Thomas' grip, only to feel the cold sting of the pistol against her neck. Thomas shoved her toward Oliver, who stood coolly before her, hands clasped behind his back. Though she was no longer held still, the sound of Thomas and the other guard readying their guns told her she may as well have been. As Oliver approached her, Thomas kicked the back of her leg, and she fell hard to her knees, grunting as she tried to keep the pain from showing.
When Oliver unclasped his hands, revealing the knife he held, she took a deep breath. Though she knew she should be overcome by fear and fight, suddenly she felt nothing, as if all her emotions were stunted. Is this how it was, at the end? She always heard stories of death, of how a calm came over you, welcoming you into the next life. Cora could not decide if she was glad for it, or if she wished to feel everything as strongly as she ever had.
The knife flashed in his hand as he spun it casually, as if this were nothing more than a chance encounter between friends. It was only when he stopped before her, taking her jaw roughly in his hand, that his demeanor changed. Cora glared up at him, her eyes full of defiance. If she was to die at his hand, she would not do it cowering. He would never get that satisfaction. With a twitch of a sadistic smile, Oliver pressed the blade against her cheek. Though she tried to keep calm, she could hear herself breathing heavily, could feel her body go stiff at the feel of the cold metal against her flesh. Perhaps what ruined the steadiness of her concentration was the fact that he had held her in such a position before, with an outcome she had thought much worse than death.
"Just do it," she breathed as he dragged the point of the blade against her jaw, though the pressure was light enough not to draw blood. When the blade stopped at her throat, she took a deep breath. All she could do was hope that Riordan would forgive her, that Victoire would not blame herself... Most of all, she thought of Connor, imagined him behind her, hands upon her shoulders, his lips at her ear whispering strength. If only she could tell him not to despair, to move on with life and find happiness.
Then, Oliver knelt before her, his knife dropping from her skin. Cora's eyes widened in shock, her body rigid with confusion. As soon as she regained her wits, the adrenaline and confidence she had built within her beginning to fade, she glanced to the side and saw that Thomas still held a gun toward her. No doubt the other guard did as well. There was no escaping... At least not yet.
"I must confess," Oliver said smugly, "I never thought it would be this easy. All this time spent playing a delightful game of cat and mouse, and then you have to ruin it by walking the streets of my city alone and unarmed? Not to mention how careless you were with your mail," he said, pulling her undelivered letter to Victoire from his coat pocket. "I certainly thought I trained you better than that." Shaking his head, he pulled her to her feet. Immediately, she searched for an opportunity to gain the upper hand, but as soon as he let go of her she felt Thomas' pistol digging into her side yet again.
"I never thought you would shy away from killing me, after the months of failure and emotional distress I have heard you endured," she said, her voice forcibly calm. Thomas sneered behind her, but Oliver only smiled.
"Killing you right away would be no fun, now would it?" Gripping his knife again, he moved toward her, a dark look consuming his face that was far too familiar. After a nod from Oliver, Thomas and the other gripped her arms as if to hold her still, and though Cora struggled against them, it was to no avail. "Besides," he said, his voice low and intimate, his comment meant only for her. His fingers dragged against the skin of her neck, moving lower until they hooked around the hem of her dress, pulling it down to expose more of her chest. "You know best of all that I like to take things slow." As he spoke, he dragged the blade against her chest, leaving a cut that ran below her left collarbone, running the length of it. She hissed, straining against the hands that held her, gaining only a tighter grip around her arms. Though she could feel blood pooling against her skin, it did not feel too deep, so she did not waste her time worrying over it.
"In any case," he said, obviously satisfied with her reaction, "as much as killing you would bring me joy, that is not why you are here."
At this, Cora laughed. What was this, some sort of mind game? Was he going to stand here before her and recite some threatening monologue, meant only to torture her mind and soul before he moved to harm her body? Oh, Oliver was losing his touch, indeed. "Nothing you can say to me will make me fear you," she said. Though a look of annoyance crossed his face at her indignance, he continued on.
"I have come here to offer you something."
Cora scoffed, rolling her eyes. Oh, spare me.
"Life."
"In exchange for what?" Though she meant it sarcastically, Oliver seemed to take it literally, looking content with her compliance.
"In exchange for another. You know the saying – a life for a life."
At this, Cora raised her eyebrow. In all honesty, she had no idea who's life he could possibly desire more than her own. Though she did not buy any of it, she played along, half to buy time to figure out an escape, and half out of intrigue. "And who exactly would that be?"
"Your precious Assassin leader."
Cora's face faltered for a moment, betraying her surprise. She was a fool for not having considered Connor... While Oliver might not know the extent of her feelings for Connor, it was clear to anyone that she cared for him. What better way to leave her emotionally broken? Suddenly, it all came together. She had heard from Victoire and the others about Oliver's fall from the graces of Charles Lee, especially in the past month since Haytham's death. The Templars were splintering without unity, and Lee had been struggling to rebuild the core leadership. No doubt Connor's head was a sure fire way for Oliver to obtain that position, all while leaving Cora vulnerable enough to make for an easy target after the deed. The only thing was... For all of Oliver's faults, he was not a fool. She did not believe for one second he thought she would agree, so why was he going through such theatrical lengths to present this plan to her? There was no way he believed she would agree to it. Was it mind games, then?
Regardless, she kept the conversation going, try to conceal any emotion she had let slip throgh the cracks. "You overestimate how much I value my own life over the lives of others," she returned.
Pacing, he shook his head. "See, I thought of that. Of course there would be no way you would give up the Assassin's life, even for your own. So that is why I promise you this..." Stopping in front of her, he leaned his face close, his eyes cold and his words even harsher. "If you do not agree, it will not only be your life that is forfeit. It will be the lives of everyone on the Assassin's precious homestead. It will be the lives of all your Assassin friends, their families, even anyone they have ever associated with. You think the Templars broken, but we are only rooting out those who are weak. From those which remain, we will root out every Assassin in every colony and eradicate their existence from this new country, starting the new United States off on a righteous foot."
Cora stared at him, her heart twisting with an unsettling anxiety. Though her mind did not hear one truth in his flowery speech, her heart was unsure. Since when had he become so devoted to the Templar cause? As long as she had known him he had been in it only for himself, for power and wealth and control. Cora had fancied herself an expert on Oliver's whims and aims, but now she was wholly uncertain, and the realization of that made her more urgent to get away.
Oliver basked in her stunned silence, a look of total satisfaction falling over his face. "I know this is a big decision for you. I will give you two days to mull it over, and then I will expect a response. It is the Assassin's life or the lives of all you have ever known, guilty and innocent alike." Inclining his head toward her, he set his gaze upon her face, speaking slowly so she was sure to get the full effect of what he was telling her. "Including that brother of yours, and his wife, and his whelp. Your sister, your aunt if you find she still lives, and that runt of a sister. I hear she is quite lovely and fair."
With these words, any confidence that she had in the falsity of his words was stripped away, leaving her bare and full of fear. As she watched the smile spread across his face, so disgustingly happy with how things had transpired, she felt a calculated anger replace that fear. Whether he was genuine or bluffing, she had head more than enough.
Taking stock of her surroundings, she felt both Thomas and the other man behind her, their guns still held close. Tipping back onto her heels to test the strength of their grip, she could sense the loose way the unfamiliar guard held his gun. After visualizing his stance as best she could, she grabbed his wrist with one hand, quickly knocking the firearm from his grasp. After a quick blow to the knee and a foot to the groin, he was doubled over, and she held the pistol, now pointed toward Thomas. As she took a few steps back, making toward the alley that would lead her back to the street, Oliver's men drew their weapons.
Standing tall and lowering his chin, he called them off, clasping his hands behind his back once again. "I will be waiting," he said coolly. "And watching." Cora bit back a snarl, trying to calm the impulse of anger that told her to shoot him then and there. Though she desired nothing more, she was not going to allow her judgment to be clouded. Realistically, she had only a gun and was vastly outnumbered. Besides, her goal now was to make it out of this alive. He would not harm her now, of that much she was certain. Whatever his true intentions were, she could not make any mistakes. Oliver's death would have to wait.
As she backed up further, not taking her eyes off of Oliver and his men, he called out one final thing. "Tell Connor that Charles Lee sends his regards, and hopes to meet him soon."
Once she was back in the street, her heart racing and head spinning, she deposited the gun on a nearby windowsill and headed straight for Victoire's. Despite all her efforts, she could not make sense of what had happened. Suddenly it was as if she was numb to feeling anything at all. Paranoia was the only thing that seemed to register, and she constantly looked behind her, anxious to ensure she was not being pursued. After walking in circles a few times with no sign of anyone following her, she ducked behind a building, taking the back way to Victoire's just in case.
When she reached the door, she took a deep breath, arranging her hair over the blood stain so Victoire would not see. Cora knew she should tell her what had happened, but she didn't want to talk about it, at least not until she had sorted it out for herself. Easing the door open, she glanced into the room, hoping no one was there. There was no way she could face anyone without giving away that something was wrong. Once inside, she grabbed her bags, dashing up the stairs just as she heard Victoire call out her name.
As she looked for an open room, she heard Victoire climbing the stairs after her. "Cora, please. Let us talk about this."
Cora slipped into a small room just as Victoire reached the top of the stairwell, closing the door behind her. Persistent as ever and unwilling to take silence for an answer, Victoire knocked at the door. "Open the door," she said, her voice somehow both amicable and commanding in a way only Victoire's could be. Cora sighed, knowing the woman would not let up until she acknowledged her. Positioning her left side behind the wall, she opened the door, leaning her head out.
"I just need a moment alone," she said, trying to look as normal as possible. Despite her efforts, right away Victoire seemed to sense that something was amiss, furrowing her brows as she examined Cora's face.
"Is everything alright?"
"Yes," Cora stammered, fighting to maintain eye contact. "I just need a moment. Alone."
At this Victoire nodded and took a step back, despite obviously not believing her. With shaking hands, Cora shut the door and went to work, pulling a clean dress out of one bag and strips of clean linen out of another. What she really needed was a mirror so she could do her work without craning her neck, but she made do. Sighing, she regretted that she did not have any water with which to clean the wound. It was shallow enough that she did not have to worry about stitching it herself, but the much of the blood had already dried against her skin, making it even more difficult to clean. As she worked, she tried to make sense of what had happened. Though she wanted to put off what had happened, to disregard it as one of Oliver's games or baseless fear-mongering threats, she could not. There had been something different in his words, something that left her truly wary. Either way, she decided not to tell Victoire. He would come or he would not. With the Assassins' attentions so focused on him and his men, as well as the spies Victoire had discussed employing, she had no reason to fear that the Templars would ever get close enough to do harm. This was something she had to deal with herself.
Eventually, she had cleaned the area well enough to dress it, and she took care not to make the linen wrappings too noticeable under her clothes. After twisting her hair into a bun and donning the clean dress, she made her way downstairs. Victoire was sitting expectantly at the table, pushing a cup of tea around the table with one finger. When she noticed Cora coming downstairs, she got a cup for her as well, placing it across the table without a word. They sat in silence for a while, neither wanting to be the first to swallow their pride and admit they had overreacted. Cora, too emotionally exhausted to let it go on any longer, was the first to break.
"You were right," she said in a quiet voice, turning the tea cup by its handle to give her hands something to do as she spoke. "The things you said... I just did not want to hear them. I know I could be throwing away all I have worked for, but..." Looking up, she sighed, hoping Victoire would understand. "It's my family, Victoire. I have to do this. After so many years of thinking them dead, I can no longer bear the not knowing..."
The blonde sighed, leaning over the table. "I understand. I am sorry I was so harsh with you before, it was not my place. Please forgive me."
Cora shrugged, looking away again. "There is nothing to forgive. You did what any true friend would by telling me you thought I was making a mistake."
Victoire inclined her head, a frown forming on her lips as she watched Cora's flat, disinterested expression. "Are you sure you are alright?" Cora bit her lip, and for a moment Victoire thought she might confess the truth of whatever had been bothering her, but instead she straightened up, giving a shallow smile.
"I just keep thinking about how difficult it will be to leave Connor," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Victoire gave her a knowing look, a smile spreading across her face. "You love him!"
"Yes," Cora said, smiling genuinely as a blush spread across her face. "I think I have for a long time. It was only recently I was able to admit it." Though she expected Victoire to tease her for the confession, she instead lay her hand upon Cora's.
"I am happy for you."
"And what of Duncan? Do you love him?" At this, Victoire sat back in her chair, a hint of a smile upon her lips.
"Oui," she breathed, smiling at Cora as if she was bearing some secret.
Not daring to let her suspicion go to waste, Cora raised her brow and asked, "Is there something else?"
"We are to be married," Victoire said plainly, as if she was telling her something as mundane as that it had rained. Gaping, Cora was lost for words. Victoire, agreeing to marry? Of all things, she had never seen it coming. As soon as the shock passed, Cora stood, pulling Victoire into a crushing hug.
"I am so happy for you," she squealed, Victoire laughing as she returned the embrace.
"You will come, of course? We have not yet set a time, and perhaps will wait until this business with the Templars is more calm, but I will tell you as soon as we do."
"I would not dare miss it," she smiled, noting the glow of true happiness in Victoire's beaming face.
"And you? What would you say if our dear Connor asked you to be his wife?" Though Victoire was half teasing, she did not miss the look that passed over Cora's face at the mention of such a notion. Victoire knew that Cora had always desired to be a wife and mother during the early years of her duration with the Templars, and that she had not dared to wish for such things again after what had happened in the years proceeding her escape. Seeing her dear friend react in such a way, with hope and even longing, warmed her heart.
"I would say yes," Cora said finally, though her voice was full of a coy softness. "But I don't think such a thing will come to pass." Despite the nature of her words, she did not seem disappointed.
"Look at us," Victoire laughed. "I seem to recall saying I pitied any men who would consider becoming our husbands. Now look!" The earlier tension long forgotten, the two women laughed, forgetting their troubles for a few moments. When their smiles faded and a burdened look returned to Cora's face, Victoire rested her hand on her shoulder.
"Are you sure you are alright? You seem uneasy," she paused, searching for the right word. "Haunted by something."
Cora looked away, fighting to move her hand to the throbbing flesh below her collarbone. There was no way Victoire would let her be unless she came up with a satisfactory answer. Knowing she could not tell her the truth, she nodded, deciding to admit the smallest possible details. "I saw someone I knew from the Templars," she said quietly, still unable to meet Victoire's gaze for fear the woman would recognize her words as lacking the complete truth.
Concerned, Victoire took her by the shoulders, meaning to ask if anything had happened. Instead, Cora hissed as she pressed a thumb near to her collar, drawing away and holding a hand to her shoulder.
"Cora!" Her voice was commanding, almost scolding in nature, and she took her by the arm, reaching for the shawl she wore atop her dress.
"It is nothing," she insisted, blocking her reach with her forearm.
"Do I look like a fool to you? Show me," she ordered, the sharp look of her blue eyes conveying that she would not take no for an answer. Sighing in defeat, Cora tugged on the hem of the shawl, revealing the linen dressing she had put together, slightly stained with blood. "Oh, Cora..." Sighing, she moved about the room, gathering a basin of water and some fresh supplies, insisting she properly clean and dress the wound. Cora did not speak as Victoire worked, only occasionally wincing when she put pressure on a particularly tender spot.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Victoire asked softly once she had prepared the wound to her liking, cleaning off the blood Cora had missed and applying some sort of salve.
Shrugging, Cora rested her face in her hand, regretting ever having walked out of Victoire's without a weapon. "I did not want to worry you."
Victoire scoffed, obviously not content with her answer. However, when she saw Cora's somber reaction, she softened her approach. "Did anything happen that you aren't telling me?"
Cursing silently that she would now have to lie, Cora shook her head. "He tried to apprehend me. I managed to get away. The end."
"You should tell Connor."
"Why? It will only upset him. The knowledge of my safety being threatened is the last burden he needs to take on right now, especially since I am about to leave."
As Victoire finished the dressing, which was now much more secure and effective than Cora's one handed attempt had been, she refused to let up. "He would want to know."
"Alright," Cora said, lying again. "I will tell him."
"Do you promise?"
Annoyed by her coddling and persistence, Cora pushed away from the table, snatching her shawl from where it sat draped across the chair. "You can stop treating me like I am a child," she snapped.
"I am only concerned for you. There is no need to bear these things alone, if only you would-"
"Alright!" Cora said sharply. "I get it."
"Cora-"
"I am going upstairs. If you have something to discuss concerning Assassin business, I will be more than happy to speak with you." Her tone was so formal that it seemed distant and cold, intentionally so. Though Victoire protested, trying to draw Cora back, she kept going, too exhausted to try and play nice. She knew she had been too harsh, but in the moment she did not care. Once she was safely shut away in her room, she removed all but her shift and climbed into bed, laying on her back so as not to further disturb and inflame her wound.
Suddenly, she had to fight the urge to cry. Perhaps it was the loneliness of sleeping in a bed without Connor beside her, or guilt over the way she had spoken to Victoire. What really ate at her, though, was the fear resting in the pit of her stomach. No matter how hard she tried to shake it, to rationalize it away or dismiss the threats as unfounded mind games, still it remained.
Over the next day, Cora tried her best to banish any thoughts of what had happened. As she conversed with the other Assassins, joked lightheartedly with Victoire, and discussed more in depth the current Templar situation, she felt her paranoia begin to fade away. By the morning they were to set out back to the Homestead, she was feeling much relief.
Norris and Myriam arrived just before dawn, hoping to make it back before nightfall. Norris, as friendly and cheerful as ever, had enthusiastically greeted her, offering to help take her few small bags outside. Myriam, however, wore a particularly sour look on her face, and Cora noticed she was watching her with a sharper eye than normal. Tired of the woman's unwarranted disdain, she had a mind to address it outright, but instead ignored it. Though now she knew the woman's thoughts toward her, she still had no idea what had caused them. Obviously, if Myriam was more angry after a day apart, in which Cora could have done nothing to offend her, the problem was evidently not anything she had said or done.
The ride back to the Homestead was awkward and wrought with tension, which Norris tried to placate with a few contrived jokes and long, eccentric stories of France and Montréal. By the time they were near Davenport, Cora was aching for a soft bed, a warm meal, and Connor's company. As always, Fionn was the first to greet her. The dog had already grown so large, but he was still full of the energy of a puppy. He romped across the road to greet her, eagerly wagging his tail as he circled around the horses. Achilles had insisted the dog not spend time in the house, so instead he usually spent most of the time near the stables, much to Cora's disappointment. As Cora called down to him, she heard Myriam whispering to Norris something about an apology.
"It was a pleasure to travel with you, Cora," Norris said with a warm smile. "I hope you had a pleasant time with Victoire."
"I certainly did," Cora said, returning his smile. "Thank you for allowing me to accompany you."
"Of course! It was our pleasure." After sending an urging glance in the direction of his wife, Norris rode ahead.
For a few moments, there was silence between the two women, but Myriam soon spoke. "Would you mind if I speak with you for a moment?" Despite the words she had heard exchanged between her and Norris, Cora got the sense that the discussion Myriam wanted to have would not be cordial or involve reconciliation.
Still, Cora could not deny her. Perhaps it would be best for them to put their problems out into the open. "Of course."
Fionn continued happily trotting down the path alongside the women, blissfully unaware of the tension between them. When they reached the manor, Cora searched anxiously for Connor. Nowhere to be seen, he was probably still at the Aquila, as they had arrived a bit earlier than expected. As she dismounted, Myriam began to speak, her tone already sounding accusatory.
"What is your intention here?"
Sighing, Cora rolled her eyes. "If you are going to do nothing except stand here and berate me for no good reason, please let me know. I do not want to waste my time."
Ignoring her, Myriam repeated herself. "I asked you a question. What are your intentions here?"
"Does it matter? For some reason I have yet to understand, you made the choice to hate me the first time you laid eyes on me. Even before I ever spoke to you, you treated me harshly. I am sure that even if I said I was going to bring all the wealth of Massachusetts to this town, or secure a visit from George Washington himself, you would find fault in me still."
Myriam huffed, narrowing her eyes as she stepped closer to Cora. The look in her eyes was that of pure, vengeful anger, and for a moment Cora faltered, taken off guard by the strength of Myriam's emotion. "Is that truly what you think? Are you so consumed in yourself that you do not remember?"
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"You are unbelievable," she said flatly before turning around. When she took hold of the saddle of her horse and prepared to mount, Cora lost her cool.
"Come now, Myriam. I think we all understand that you do not like me because you are jealous. It is hardly a secret that you had an affection for Connor." Myriam paused, a scornful laugh escaping her lips. Though deep down Cora knew the accusation was low, and bordering on absurd, she continued anyway/ "Perhaps you still do," Cora added. At this, Myriam turned and took several long steps toward her, only stopping when she was mere inches from her face. Standing fast, not daring to concede any ground, Cora stared Myriam down and tried to ignore the woman's accusing finger that was waving just beyond her vision.
"That is the most ridiculous and desperate thing I have ever heard. I would expect as much from you," she snarled. "I love my husband. The reason I have no love for you is because you manipulate Connor for your own ends, God only knows what they may be." Myriam did not allow Cora to speak, talking over her just as she attempted to defend herself. "Tell me you do not remember me," she said sternly.
"I told you, I have no idea what you are talking about!"
Myriam shook her head, a look of disgust passing over her face. "Perhaps you will remember a man by the name of Moses Baker."
Blanching at the sound of the name, Cora found she could not speak. Moses was a man she had been tasked with seducing many years ago, when she was still new to the ways of spying through such means. Oliver and the others had thought him a supplier for the Rebels with valuable information, but before the night had even began it became clear he had known nothing. Moses had been kind and gentle, had made her blush and laugh. Unlike the others he was young, perhaps not even twenty, and rather handsome. Infatuated with him, Cora had lied to the Templars, saying she needed more time to gather more information. Five nights she had managed to glean before Oliver had discovered her ruse. In punishment, he had brutalized her in front of him, and then had made her watch his torture as well. After, when he was lying bloody and unconscious on the floor, they had dragged her away and never spoken of him again, leaving her to assume he was dead. She had been young and foolish, and her desire and lies had caused such harm...
Closing her eyes, she recalled that one of the nights she had spent with him, a woman had pounded at the door, calling Moses' name in a voice he apparently recognized, as he had let her in. She had lectured him for acting in such a way, furiously arguing with him and insulting Cora before Moses had finally ordered her out. Only now did she remember the woman, her face, and that it had been Myriam herself.
"I thought so," she said bitterly. "He has finally recovered from the trauma of what happened to him, no thanks to you."
Will finally broken, Cora looked down, allowing Myriam to continue to rebuke her. She had long since rationalized what had happened, and though her actions had caused so much harm to an innocent, she had forgiven herself. After all, she had been so young, so inexperienced and naïve to the fullness of the consequences of her actions. Now, though, that all seamed so meaningless.
Falling in for the final blow, Myriam stepped close to Cora again, speaking in a low, malicious voice. "What you have done to Connor in your time here... I do not like it. None of us do. There are good people here, and if you dare to hurt them, if you dare to betray Connor... I will not allow it. Not again."
Speaking in a small, wounded voice, Cora tried to make Myriam see. "You do not understand."
"I understand that you are having secret meetings with Connor's adversaries." Paling again, Cora was too stunned to speak. There was no way Myriam could know...
"That's right. After talking to Norris, I decided that perhaps he was right, and I was being too unforgiving of something that happened long ago. I was resolved to make peace with you, but when I went to seek you out I saw those men lead you behind a building. Fearing you were in danger, I went to retrieve my gun, only to hear him bidding you a cordial goodbye, and telling you to extend to Connor the greetings of Charles Lee. So yes, I do understand. I understand that you are a spy, a liar, and a whore, just as I thought all along."
"That is enough," Cora rasped. "I understand now why you feel the way you do, but you are not my judge. You have no idea what I have endured, have no desire to listen to my side of the story, and refuse to have any compassion. I have nothing more to say to you." Turning, she took Ealga's reins and led her into the stall, fighting to remain steadfast and not let any of her emotion show through. Though she could hear Myriam's mumbling and angry scoffs, eventually she rode off, leaving Cora in solitude. As soon as she was gone, she leaned against the wall, sliding down it with a hand over her face. It seemed no matter how much progress she made in leaving her past behind, life was relentless in ensuring she never forgot.
Fionn nudged his nose under her arm, laying his head in her lap. Comforted by the fact that at least someone seemed not to care about anything except her presence, she smiled, running her fingers over the crest of the dog's head. Once she had composed herself, she finished caring for Ealga, making sure to give her an apple as a treat for the long ride.
Sighing, she rested one hand on her hip, the other smoothing her hair out of her eyes as she tried to decide whether to wait for Connor in the manor or go find him straight away. Exhausted, she had a mind just to go straight to bed, but another part of her could not rest until she saw him, especially after all that had happened in the past few days. Just as she began to head toward the docks, she noticed an unfamiliar rider along the path in front of the manor, no doubt heading toward the inn. A traveler passing through was hardly an uncommon sight in the town, but there was something different in this man, something almost familiar. As he approached, she realized he was watching her as well, and he removed his hat, giving a quick nod when he passed by. When he looked back toward the road and put his hat back on, she noticed the twitch of a smile at his lips, and she suddenly remembered.
Knees weak, she struggled to stand as she remembered the faces of the men who had guarded her in her last year with the Templars. This man had almost never spoken, but never lacked in his harsh treatment when he was ordered to do so. He followed orders more closely than any of the Templars she knew, and if he was here... If he was here, Oliver had ordered him to do so.
Cora dropped to one knee, clutching to Fionn as she realized that Oliver must have been speaking the truth... She had thought his words ridiculous, had been sure he was only trying to scare her, but now... Now she knew she could not stay here, for the sake of the lives on all of the Homestead, for the sake of Connor's life... Of the few things she was sure of, it was that Oliver would follow her if she left. Even if he was newly invested in the actual cause of the Templars, she doubted he would waste time and resources doing anything to these people if she was somewhere else.
Rising to her feet, she numbly made her way into the manor, struggling to feel anything at all. The knowledge that she would have to leave was made more painful by the fact that she would not be able to return until Oliver was dead. Before, she had only been planning to leave until she had spent some time with her family and found her aunt and sister, but now... Now she knew there would be no returning. The safest thing would be to make a clean break. Hopefully, if the guard overheard that she had left the Homestead at odds with Myriam and Connor, it would only provide further incentive for Oliver to leave them alone. That was all she could pray for...
Riordan appeared soon after she entered the manor, his cheerful face so at odds with the panic tearing at her heart. "Cora! I was wondering when you would return!" Beaming, he embraced her. "Is Connor with you?" When she shook her head, he sighed. "He wanted to be here when you arrived, I suppose he got tied up with the Aquila."
"Riordan," she said softly, trying to get him to stop rambling. Inclining his head, he furrowed his brow and looked at her intently.
"Is everything alright?"
"We are leaving tomorrow."
Confused, he made a face at her. "I thought you wanted time... I already sent a letter telling them we would-"
"Tomorrow," she said sharply. It was hard enough accepting what she had to do, and she did not want to have to convince her brother of it, as well. There was only so much one could take in one day...
"If you insist," he stammered, obviously uncertain. "Have you told Connor?"
She nodded, struggling to meet his eyes. "He knows, but it is better that you do not mention it to him. I do not think he wants to talk about it." Riordan nodded slowly, unsure if he believed her but not wanting to provoke her in a situation where she was already visibly uncomfortable and upset. Perhaps he would talk to her about it in the morning when the sting was not as fresh, and ensure that she was not making this decision too rashly.
Managing a smile, she tried to give off the sense that she was alright. "It is good to see you, but I am exhausted. I think I will retire," she said, embracing Riordan again before heading up the stairs. She could feel his stare on her back, but thankfully he had the insight to keep quiet. Already she felt caught in a web of lies and deception. Even if she was doing it for their protection, it still didn't make the burden of it any easier to bear.
By her guess, it would still be at least an hour until Connor's return, and so she set to packing. Not wanting to make the absence of her things too noticeable, she tried to pick a few things to leave behind. As she organized her possessions, trying only to take the things most valuable to her, she was suddenly surprised by just how many things she had accumulated over the months. For so long, her only possession had been her sketchbook, an item which she had scarcely touched in weeks because she had been so busy and distracted. As she flipped through its pages, she paused over a drawing of Connor's face that she had made within the first few weeks of her arrival here. On the other side of the page, she knew there was a drawing from months later, a poorly done self portrait she had made around the same time. Each reminded her of how far she had come... She had learned so much in the months she had spent here, and now she was just going to leave it all behind.
Unable to bear it, she tore the page out and tossed it aside, throwing her book into a bag and lugging her things into her old room, tucking them underneath a table for safe keeping. Then, she searched for the winter night dress that Ellen had made for her when she first arrived at the homestead, the woman having insisted on providing her with all the basic necessities. Her wound was healing nicely, a scab already beginning to form over the skin, and the higher neckline mercifully hid it. The last thing she wanted was to spend her last night with Connor by worrying him. Taking a deep breath, she slid the leather tie from her hair and worked her fingers through the braid, letting it loose. It was so long that she never slept with it free, but she knew Connor secretly liked it that way, and that night all she wanted was to please him in whatever small way she could. Trying not to think about what she would be doing to him the next morning, she climbed into bed and pulled the blankets over her. Though it was still light out, she soon fell asleep.
A while later, she woke to a gentle hand upon her shoulder. Eyes fluttering open, she struggled to pull herself from the thick clouds of sleep that hung over her mind. When her senses finally found her, she propped herself up on one elbow and recognized Connor's face.
"How late is it?" She mumbled, rubbing a hand across her face.
"A few hours past dusk," Connor replied, smiling at the sight of her dazed reaction. When he had entered, lighting a few candles that had gone out, she had been quite a ragged sight, what with her hair strewn all around her head and one arm above her head. "Your brother said you retired early."
Nodding, she pushed herself up and swung her legs around so that her feet were touching the floor. "It was a long day," she muttered, the memory of all that had happened washing over her like a wave that threatened to drown her. Between the few days they had spent apart and the knowledge that this would be the last night she spent with him, Cora wanted to feel Connor's arms around her, longed to revel in his presence. Taking his hands, she pulled him closer, and as if reading her mind he climbed next to her on the bed. When he reached to push her hair behind her shoulder, she leaned into his hand, looking up at him wearily.
Though on the surface everything seemed to be normal, Connor could not shake the concern that grew as she looked at him. "Is everything alright?"
As if on cue, her face brightened and she smiled, any hint of despair long gone. "I just missed you," she said softly, leaning her head against his shoulder. Cora closed her eyes when he wrapped one arm around her, but still she was gripped by anxiety. How was she supposed to leave? The decision itself had been easy – there was no disputing the fact that Connor, the Assassins, and those who lived on the Homestead would be safer if she was gone. Yes, she was certain that when it came down to it, Oliver would abandon his threats in order to pursue her.
Yet while the decision that she should go had not been particularly hard, she already felt the weight of the inevitable difficulty that would come with carrying it out. What made it even worse was that she longed to tell him the truth, to come clean and explain everything. There was no doubt in her mind that he would understand, that they would make it through the hard months that would follow. Yet the safest way for her to depart was for it to be amidst disagreement and hurt. She would have to spurn him for there to be any chance of Oliver believing she would not come back.
Cora fought to keep her composure. Never in her life had she felt so emotionally unstable, but she could not judge herself too harshly. So much had happened, and after so long of repressing her feelings she supposed it was only natural to be so unsteady. Still, it only frustrated her more to feel the tears stinging her eyes when all she wanted was to forget her burdens, at least for this one night.
To make matters worse, Connor did not fail to notice her inability to console herself. She could feel him craning his neck to look at her, and she drew away, turning her face to the side and taking a deep breath in order to force some degree of composure. Though Connor said nothing, she could still feel his suspicion of her earlier words of assurance, could almost hear him urging her to tell him what was bothering her.
Though she knew she could not tell him what was really upsetting her, she also knew that he would not let it go until she said something. Sure, he might not say anything to her directly if she said she did not want to talk about it, but concern would still linger in his eyes. Cora did not want his worry or his pity – not tonight of all nights. So instead, she turned back to him, willing at least to give him some small bit of truth, even if it was a distorted version of it. Perhaps then he would cease his worrying glances, his careful organization of sentences so as not to upset her.
"Actually, there is something," she sighed. Connor furrowed his brows, watching her carefully but saying nothing. Fingers going to the neck of her nightdress, she untied the tight lacing at the base of her neck that she had so carefully fastened so he would not see the dressings of her wound peaking over the hem. As she pulled back the fabric, revealing the linen strips that covered her skin, Connor sighed, reaching his hand as if to inspect it himself.
"Cora..." he said softly, trying to catch her eye. When she refused to meet his gaze, he moved his outstretched hand to her chin, gently tipping it up to look at him. "What happened?"
"It is nothing. It was only a little cut, but Victoire insisted on going overboard. You know how she is. I promise it is nothing interesting to see."
"I mean... How did it happen?" He asked carefully, not wanting to assume anything. For a moment Cora considered telling him it happened while sparring with Victoire, but the thought left as soon as it came. He would never believe it, and even if he did it would defeat the entire purpose of being somewhat honest with him. If she had to lie, she wanted to do it in the most honest way possible.
"Victoire and I got into an argument and I stormed out. While I was clearing my head, I ran into one of the old guards at the fort. Evidently he still worked for Oliver, because he tried to capture me, but obviously that did not work out well in his favor," she said with a smile, trying not to make it sound too serious. Connor smiled at her comment, then rested a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye.
"Are you alright?"
"I admit I was a little shaken, but yes. I am fine." Smiling again, she rested her hand on his knee, the guilt that already wracked her only seeming to grow even more.
"Have you eaten anything? Riordan said you came straight up when you got back."
Cora shook her head. "No, but I am not hungry." That much was true, at least. She was far too anxious to be able to eat. "I would give anything for something to drink though," she said, not wanting to rouse further suspicion.
Standing, Connor went to a dresser against the wall, where he evidently had laid a pitcher of water. "I think I can help with that," he said over his shoulder before turning back to grasp the pitcher. As he poured her a glass of water, she got up and stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and dropping a kiss against the back of his shoulder. After unwinding her arms from around him, she took the glass of water he offered and gulped it down, suddenly parched.
"Did Victoire withhold water while you were there?" he asked, teasing as he refilled her cup. Cora scrunched her nose at him, stopping short of sticking out her tongue as he smiled down at her.
"I think all that saltwater has made you unruly," she countered.
"Has it?" Connor laughed, putting down his cup and then taking Cora's from her hand, setting it on the dresser before catching her in an intentionally sloppy kiss.
Pushing him away, Cora pretended to look disgusted. "You taste like the sea," she said, unable to keep up her displeased charade and instead falling into laughter.
"In that case," he muttered, holding her close and kissing her again. Cora made a show of amused protest, but as his hands pressed harder against her back, she slid her own behind his shoulders, kissing him back with equal fervor. A few moments later after they had pulled away, Cora asked him how the past few days had gone.
"The repairs on the Aquila are all but finished. Faulkner is quite pleased."
"I am sure," Cora smiled. "I don't think I've ever heard him speak of anything with the same esteem as he has that ship."
Connor raised his eyebrows, a playful look in his eyes. "You should have heard how he spoke of this woman from the Cape."
"Mister Faulkner... I never would have thought," she smiled, taking a seat in the chair in the corner. Connor nodded in agreement, continuing as he began to undress.
"Achilles and I spoke, as well. I tried to begin planning the next move in regards to Lee, but there is so much to consider..." Trailing off, he nudged the conversation in a different direction, not wanting to speak of anything too serious. "I feel optimistic, despite it all."
"I am glad to hear it," she said, resting her chin in her hand. "Have you heard more news of Yorktown?"
Nodding, Connor slid his coat off, throwing it on the bed as he reached to take off his boots. "We will see how it unfolds. I have begun to hear rumors that they have finally surrendered, but have yet to receive any solid word."
"It is crazy, to think that the war may soon be over," she mused quietly, staring off into the distance for a moment before turning her attention back to Connor, who was now in only his breeches and shirt. Leaning back, she crossed her legs, watching as he propped his sword against the wall, moving it from where he had tossed it upon the bed with the rest of his things. When he looked at her and caught sight of the way she was watching him, he fought back a grin. Making his way over to where she sat, Connor knelt before her, hooking his finger around a strand of her hair, guiding it over her shoulder before taking it between his thumb and forefinger.
"How did things go with Victoire?" He asked casually, looking up at her mischievously. Cora laughed softly, her chest heaving. "Is something funny?"
Suddenly, Cora slid forward on the chair, stopping when her knees were astride his waist. Leaning close, she whispered in a low voice, "I don't want to talk about Victoire." She could see another witty quip forming in his mouth, silencing it with a kiss. It was strange for her to have the asset of height, and she had no qualms about using it to her advantage. Tipping his head back with her fingers, she deepened the kiss, though still taking it somewhat slow. Cora really could taste the salt that lingered from a day spent by the water, could smell ocean and leather against his skin. When she felt Connor's hands slide beneath the hem of her dress, moving up her leg until his fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs, she suddenly found herself lost in the urgency of it all. As he edged the bottom of her dress further up, Cora felt herself go rigid with anticipation. Finally she shuddered, feeling his hand reach between her thighs. Never breaking the kiss, he moved his fingers against her until she threw her head back, lips parting in a breathy moan as she grabbed his shoulder. After a moment, she tipped her head forward again, looking at him with a soft expression before kissing him tenderly. Soon, their embrace became urgent once more, Cora only breaking the kiss so she could pull his shirt over his head. When he was free of it, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her gently off the chair to join him on the floor. Though he had now regained his height over her, they were almost eye to eye, something Cora rather enjoyed. Pulling back, she looked at him for a moment, trying to recommit to memory the face she already knew by heart.
When she kissed him again, her lips were rough and wanting against his. Reaching to unfasten his breeches, her fingers fumbled with the buttons and she huffed impatiently. Connor stood, making quick work of it himself. After kicking them away, he knelt again to join her. Instead of embracing him, though, Cora set her hands gently on the sides of his face, her brows furrowed as she studied his face.
"I love you," she whispered, the words seeming to hold so much more weight than they ever had. Connor slid his fingers along her neck, bunching her hair in his hands and moving it behind her shoulders. As he buried his fingers within her hair, running them lightly along her scalp, she closed her eyes, sighing.
"I love you, too." The words seemed so incapable of conveying all he felt. He could spend a lifetime trying to explain the depth of his love for her, and it would never be enough. She had brought out a side of him that he had not thought he possessed... He could still remember his grandmother's words, advising that true companions brought out the best in each other. If nothing else, that was what he had with Cora. Yet there were other things – so many others. It wasn't just that they made each other better, but also that there was trust, laughter, playfulness, openness... There was disagreement and compromise, passion as well as a still, easy companionship. Though he had long suspected it, he knew now that there would be no one else that ever came close to fulfilling him the way she did, and he hoped that he had done the same within her.
Smiling, Cora kissed him passionately, digging her fingertips into his hips and pulling him into her, eliciting a soft groan. From then on, everything seemed to move in a blur. Leaning into her, Connor reached down to yank the cursed nightdress out from under her knees. Cora took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he bunched up the fabric in his hands, dragging his fingers against her sides as he moved to pull it over her head.
Her skin was warm against his as she embraced him, her fingers trailing hot across his back before he moved to kiss her neck, his own hand reaching again between her thighs. Cora clung to him as he found the center of her pleasure, his fingers working skillfully enough to have her writhing, but still slow enough to prolong every feeling. His breath was hot against her chest, her fingers woven tightly through his hair, and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to feel him within her.
In one quick motion, she pushed him onto his back, settling astride him and reaching down to push him inside of her. As she moved her hips against him, Connor tipped his chin back, digging his fingers into the supple flesh of her thighs, then her hips, using the leverage to move with her. Reaching up, he spread his fingers against the side of her belly, his hand hot against her skin. When Cora started to feel the waves of pleasure begin to crash within her, she threw her head back, biting back any sound she might make. Yet just as she let out a breath, the height of it finally beginning to crest, Connor suddenly rose from the floor, breathing heavily as he wrapped her tight in his arms. Cora returned his close embrace, clinging to his back as they rode out the last of it.
When their breathing stilled, Connor leaned onto his back again and Cora lay atop him, his fingers trailing slowly across her back. All she felt was complete happiness, and all thoughts of what she must do were far from her mind. After a while just laying there, she climbed off of him, helping him to his feet as well. Neither bothered to dress before climbing into bed, curling up together in a mess of tangled limbs. Later, when she thought Connor had fallen asleep, she found that the thoughts she had managed to ignore all night had smothered her once more. Despite all her attempts, she could not fight the tears that now ran down her face, and could not still the quiet sobs that shook her.
Connor had been on the verge of sleep when he felt her trembling beside him, and once he turned to face her, he realized she was crying. Tenderly, he found her face in the darkness, his thumbs confirming the presence tears upon her cheeks.
"Cora, what is it?" He asked, alarm thick in his voice. When she said nothing, he gathered her in his arms, her tears hot against his skin as she buried her face into his chest. Stroking her hair, he whispered soothing words, but when she did not seem to calm, his worry grew even larger. "Cora, tell me," he urged.
"It's just too much," she said, her voice muffled and ragged.
Confused, he pulled away to try and look at her in the darkness. "What is?"
"All of it... All that has happened." As she took deep breaths, her shaking seemed to stop, but he took her hand anyway, trying to lend his support.
"I know," he said softly, voice comforting her in a way only his could. "Believe me, I know."
Sighing again, Cora turned back to him. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me," she whispered, lying. Of course she knew what had brought forth her tears... How could she think of leaving the only person with whom she could share everything and not feel as though she would break?
Neither of them said anything else, though Cora could almost feel Connor dwelling on his own struggles. It was strange how they had learned to read each other so well, even without the light to show any expressions. Returning the comfort he had given, she kissed his collarbone, letting her fingers run gently across his back. Soon, she felt sleep hanging over her. Though she fought it as long as she could, wanting to prolong this moment as long as possible and postpone the inevitable waking that would come after falling asleep, bringing all of the unknown with it, she eventually succumbed.
Dawn was just breaking when she woke. Though she was quickly reminded of what she must do, she lay there for a few moments, staring mindlessly at the ceiling. Connor was still fast asleep beside her, laying on his side and looking completely peaceful. Carefully turning to face him, she watched him sleep for a while, trying to forestall the pain she knew departure would bring them both. For months now, she had known she loved him, and in the past several weeks she had openly shared such feelings with him, but now it felt as though she hadn't truly understood the depths of it. How cruel was it that in the very moment she had to leave, she was more in love with him than ever?
The room was quickly getting brighter, and she knew she had to dress and set off before he woke. Anything else would only make it harder. Slowly, she got up from the bed, trying hard not to rustle the sheets or make any other noises that would disturb him. Reaching the door, she took another look at him. It pained her to see him sleeping so peacefully, only to imagine how he would feel to wake up and find her gone. Biting her lip, she ducked around the door, leaving it open only a fraction of an inch for fear the sound of the latch would make too much noise.
Silently, she slipped into her old room, where she had already lain out her clothes. As she dressed, she could see Riordan readying the horses through the window. Sighing, she closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind. All she could think was to go get back into bed, to wrap her arms around Connor and fall asleep. When they woke, she would explain everything, and they would figure it out together. Yet all the same, she knew such an option was selfish. Doing so would make Myriam right, would play right into Oliver's hand... No. After seeing that guard riding plainly through the Homestead, even being so bold as to tip his hat to her, she knew Oliver was not bluffing. If she truly loved Connor, if she truly valued the lives and well being of those on the Homestead, she had to leave. No matter how much in tore her apart to do so.
Gathering her things, she tried to console herself with the fact that she would see her family soon, but suddenly that felt so unenticing. Perhaps she was supposed to be completely desperate to see them, wholly happy and relieved that they were waiting for her, but she was not. Like it or not, they were strangers to her. She had only just found a place to call home, and now she was leaving it to start all over again.
Cora paused as she passed Connor's door. Suddenly, she found herself setting her bags down and edging it open just so that she could see him again. Still laying in the same position, he looked just as serene as he had before, his face void of any worry lines or weariness that seemed to age him so many years when he was awake. It was often so easy to forget that he was a man of only twenty and five. But then, she hardly felt her age, either.
The sun had risen, signaling that it was past time for her to be gone. Biting her lip, she glanced at him once more. "I love you," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. Please forgive me.
She and Riordan did not speak as they finished preparing the horses, though she could feel his stare. Just as she was attaching the last bag to her saddle, realizing just how light she was traveling, Riordan finally broke his silence.
"Are you sure about this?"
Cora did not turn to face him, knowing that doing so would betray the regret and pain she knew was written all over her face. "Yes."
Connor woke slowly, a fog clouding his mind as he tried to make sense of the voice calling his name and the strange object poking at his shoulder.
"Wake up, boy," a gruff voice called. Finally opening his eyes, he found himself staring at Achilles. Gaping at the man, he tried to figure out what had been so important that the old man, who rarely had the strength to climb the stairs, had come up to wake him. "She is leaving," he said quickly before hobbling back out of the room, leaving Connor in a sleepy daze.
He spread his fingers across the empty spot on the bed, trying to make sense of what Achilles had said. Leaving? Surely he was mistaken...
Then, he remembered how she had cried the night before, how she had so intently told him that she loved him. Throwing the blankets away, he tumbled out of bed, searching for anything to clothe himself with. After clumsily pulling on a shirt and trousers, he ran outside only to see Cora about to mount her mare, Riordan already sitting astride his horse.
Had she truly meant to leave without so much as a single word of explanation or farewell? After last night? After the months they had shared, after all they had endured to get to this point? Suddenly hurt and angry, he jogged toward the stable. Riordan saw him first, and though the man's eyes widened in anticipation of a confrontation, he said nothing.
"What do you think you're doing?" He called, visibly startling Cora. Turning, she let go of the saddle and stared back at him, her eyes wide and dark with stunned surprise. After a moment, her expression faded into a controlled calm, and she looked back toward Ealga, holding the reins tighter in her hand.
"You know what I'm doing."
Gesturing toward her, Connor raised his voice. "So what, you thought you would just leave without saying anything? You could not even spare me a goodbye, after everything?" Connor could see the hurt in her eyes, but he did not care.
Stammering, Cora tried to come up with some excuse. "I thought it would be easier if-"
"If you just left without a word?"
At this, Cora sighed, running a hand across her forehead. She had been handling it as well as possible, had felt strong when she was not completely numb to it all, but now the reality of her actions hit her all at once, the torment somehow worse than she had imagined. Her brother led his horse toward her, as if to offer help, but she waved him off with a flick of her wrist, turning her eyes back to Connor's. "Please," she said softly, "please understand." Though her gentle plea stirred Connor's heart, he was resolved not to waver. Though part of him wanted to heed her words, another refused. He would not stand here and beg her to stay. There was no way he could understand. If she wanted to leave, so be it. Yet still, of all the hurts she could have inflicted, this was surely the worst. The worst part was that he did not understand why she was doing this... They had spoken of her departure, had planned it! It was not as if he was opposed to her going to find her family! If she was leaving in the quiet morning hours, trying to disappear unnoticed like fog burned away in the sun, it could only mean that she did not intend to come back.
"Was it all a lie? Was it all a game to you?" Though Connor had meant the words to be strong and confident, he could hear how wounded he sounded, which only made it worse.
"No!" Growing desperate and frustrated, she stepped toward him, her eyes intently locked on his.
"What was I to you, then, that you can so easily leave?"
Easily?! It was as if he did not know her at all! Did he really think that she could so easily cast him off? Though she had expected him to be hurt, she had thought he would at least understand that it had not been a simple thing for her. Yet though she wanted to run to him and ask forgiveness, to tell him she was not leaving after all, she knew that leaving Connor bitter toward her would only make him safer. Closing her eyes for a moment, she forced herself to gather the strength to do what must be done.
"You were a dream, Connor," she said finally. "This was all a dream! I was foolish to believe I could stay here and play at housewife. I was a fool to let myself become so distracted that I lost sight of what I have to do." When she was finished, Connor clenched his jaw and looked away, obviously stung by her words. Knees feeling weak and stomach twisting, Cora tried to remain steady.
When Connor spoke, he did not look at her. "Is this it, then?"
A clean break would be easier, safer... With a deep breath, she nodded. "Yes."
Face cold and unreadable, Connor met her eyes again. "Good luck," he said, his voice detached and distant, his words meaning nothing.
"And you," she said gently, reaching up and swinging her leg over Ealga's back before she lost what resolve she had left. Pulling on the reins, she led Ealga away, but paused for a moment, turning her head back in Connor's direction. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"So am I." Unable to bear another second, she turned away, biting her lip to keep it from quivering. Riordan was watching her intently, but she dared not look back at him for fear that she would lose control. Closing her eyes, she led Ealga forward.
Unbelieving, Connor watched her ride away. Though he knew what was happening, it still did not feel real. This was the last thing he had ever anticipated... Cora had said clearly enough that she was going, but he still watched her, bidding her to give him hope by looking back. He had just turned away when she turned in the saddle, wildly searching for his gaze one last time.
Cora watched him until he disappeared inside the house. Though perhaps she did not have the right to feel hurt by the knowledge that he had not watched her go, she still did. Maybe it really was over... Maybe she had played her part too well. Tears stinging her eyes, she turned back toward the road, trying to cover her ragged breathing with her hand so that Riordan would not hear. Her brother had been obviously concerned, but at her direction had stayed back. Now though, he did not seem to be heeding her desires. Letting his horse fall back beside her, he gave her a serious look.
"Are you alright?"
No, she said silently, closing her eyes in an attempt to calm herself. Perhaps I never will be. Perhaps I do not deserve to be.
When she opened her eyes, they were fierce and steadfast. Disregarding his question, she focused her attention on the path ahead. "Come on. We do not have the time."
Achilles was standing near the door when Connor came inside, bracing one arm against the wall and rubbing his face with the other, trying desperately to pull himself together. When he pushed off the wall with a little too much force, he met Achilles' eye. Half expecting the old man to tell him that it was for the best, that Cora had been a distraction and a hindrance to his goals, Achilles was silent except for the pity in his gaze. Without a word, Connor headed upstairs. Achilles had not seen him so closed off in months, and he only hoped that Cora's departure did not have harsher consequences than a broken heart. Though Achilles was not unfeeling enough to disregard how devastating such a thing could be, he feared above all else that it would bring an unforeseen outcome, one that would have lasting effects on all parties involved.
A/N: Well, I have now surpassed the 200,000 word mark, it seems... I NEVER imagined this story going this far, honestly! I always imagined it would be about 20 chapters of about 5,000 words each, and here I am with several chapters to go and my recent average being around 10,000 words per chapter... I am so looking forward to finishing this story, as it will be the first thing I have ever ACTUALLY concluded before abandoning it. I couldn't do it without all the support of you readers, so thank you so much! Don't forget to drop a review!
Bones McCoy - Thank you so much for your kind review! Sometimes I get super anxious that some readers might forget about the story or abandon it because there's often such a long period between updates, so it's so encouraging to hear someone say it's not for nothing!