"That's the man you didn't trust around me," Jas whispers in disbelief as she finally spots the Prince, not seeing anything special about him beyond the fact that he wore too much eyeliner. Poor guy looks like a damn raccoon or one of those girls in middle school that went through the goth phase.
"What?" Gisborne turns his gaze to her in confusion, then realization dawns and he rolls his eyes. "That damn boy got my words mixed up again. I said I didn't trust you around the Prince. I know how you get around the nobility and I didn't want you to snap the man's neck if he said something you didn't agree with."
"Next time, you should just leave a note behind."
"I'm beginning to think that's a good idea." She might be able to conjure a Post-It note, surely something so small wouldn't mess up along the way. Then again, she'd tried conjuring a grilled cheese and it showed up with a mouse attached; the mouse was named Simon and it lived in the garden now, though Gisborne had no knowledge of that fact.
"Enough excuses," Malik snaps after Vaisey said something, forcing Jas and Gisborne to tune back into the argument at hand. He really wasn't terrible looking, his brown hair brushing his shirt collar in thick waves, he wasn't scrawny nor particularly buff, and he was taller than Jas. "We will start the peace negotiations tonight before more innocent people are cut down! I have heard aspersions cast on your character, Sheriff, and if you do not comply immediately, I will travel to London by myself."
"I'd love to see you travel after I break your ankles," Jas says casually.
"May I present to you Jasmine Took," Vaisey introduces, gesturing in her direction," a Ranger that takes pride in her job. In fact, not too long ago she was dispatching of another man who thought he could stand up to me. If you don't take a seat and stop your yammering, then I'll allow her to show you first-hand what she did to poor Lambert."
"Look how red his face is now."
"How dare you," he snarls, not backing down from the challenge.
"Vaisey will do whatever he likes." Jas moves forward until she's in the man's personal space, her smile unsettling as she meets his gaze. "Do you know why? Because I don't fail when it comes to my tasks. If he says jump, you ask 'how high' because I'll shatter the bones of your fingers if you don't. Now, will you be seated or will I have to make you, Malik?" She turns her gaze to a nearby soldier, her smile turning pleasant. "Take our sweet Prince to the dungeons and I'll sort him out later on."
She walks out with her head held high, bringing her freshly picked Carnation up to breathe in its sweet scent. It was familiar to her, it meant home, and she needed it more than ever in such a high stress situation. "Well done in there, Took. It seems you aren't a complete waste."
"That was almost a compliment," Gisborne shrugs as the Sheriff walks off, Jas and Gisborne stopping at the stairs. "Better than usual."
"Yeah," Jas said," it'll have to do. What else do we have going on today?" Gisborne takes a moment to think over that, obviously having trouble sorting everything out that was on his plate. Heavy are the shoulders that hold an asshole like Vaisey.
"Ah, I think the ransom should arrive sometime this afternoon or early evening. If all goes well, then we should be back in Locksley by nightfall, enjoying our wine and trying not to fail at whatever game you think up." That was a new tradition in Locksley Manor, both would get drunk and partake in childish games like Twister or Hide and Seek. Unfortunately, they could never quite remember how said games turned out and they were still confused about how Gisborne ended up with a few strands of pink hair.
"Awesome."
"I like to think so."
Jas had felt uneasy all afternoon after receiving word from a spy in the woods that the ransom was drawing nearer to the castle, the Saracen guards mostly women dressed in strange clothing that allowed easy movement. Likewise, Jas had quickly changed into a short skirt that would give her legs an easier access to movement, and a white crop top that just felt comfortable against her skin. Against Gisborne's wishes, she'd decided to forgo shoes, though that was mainly because she hated shoes in general.
"Are we sure we're getting an actual ransom from these people," Jas asks, eyeing the portcullis. "I doubt Saladin would risk any of his money to rescue one wayward nephew."
"These people would do anything for family," Vaisey says distractedly," it's what makes them vulnerable." If he actually believed that, then he didn't have the brains God gave monkeys. Soon after Vaisey spoke, four women entered the courtyard, each holding one end of an elaborate stick that supported a cushion and a large box; they followed a Saracen man that dressed similarly to Malik, but Jas was more concerned about the fact that the women weren't wearing dresses.
Jas hangs behind as Vaisey and Gisborne go down the stairs to greet the new arrivals. Something is seriously wrong and you'd have to be a complete dipstick not to see that. For one thing, she's never met a Saracen woman that wasn't covered from head-to-toe aside from Djaq; for another, there's an air about the women that means business. It was just one of those things fellow badasses could sense about each other, the trained eye able to see the faint tensing of muscles and the hours of training that created such stiff-backed posturing under a heavy weight.
Arabic hit team.
Welp, I can check this off my bucket list.
"A sample of the treasure, My Lord," the stranger offers, his accent thick as he brings out a small leather purse. Jas tenses slightly, an action noticed by the four women, which Jas noticed in return. Oh yes, they'd been well-trained, but they'd find out soon enough that it takes more than fucking assassins to kill a Ranger.
"How about we take the party inside," Jas suggests," to keep prying eyes from seeing such an exchange." Inside one of the rooms of the castle would make fighting a little more difficult, but it would allow her to pick the assassins off one by one. Sure, she'd take more than one wound herself, but she would heal eventually and any missing limbs would grow back after a month or so. She should know, Flynn had accidentally cut off an entire hand when he first started practicing with a machete. "We could have their Prince summoned to show how hospitable we've been to him."
"What," Vaisey frowns, straightening up from fiddling with the chest. "Oh, yes. Yes, let's do that." He'd seen the way her gaze lingered on the women, knew that the way her lips pursed just the slightest meant that something was about to go down. "Come along, then. All weapons outside and we'll gather in my chambers." It was close combat in there, perhaps better than any of the larger rooms so that the women couldn't escape.
But neither can Gisborne.
The two of them lock gazes, a familiar practice after months of working together, and Gisborne could easily spot the worry she felt. He takes the other man's curved blade, holding it carefully in his hands and he came to Jas's side, both of them leading the way.
"What is it," he asks, lips barely moving and his voice only heard by her sensitive ears.
"We're about to see how the Saracen version of Carmine Falcone treats his enemies." She knew Gisborne wouldn't get the reference, but her serious tone tipped him off that it wasn't any laughing matter. The rest of the walk to Vaisey's sitting room was in silence, the only sounds coming from the shoes as they hit the floor. The four Saracen women stand a few feet apart in groups of two on separate sides of the room, shoulders squared and eyes focused dead ahead.
"No," Malik gasps when he's brought in, spotting the women and recognizing them from his country. Jas could see the fear in his eyes and the way he seemed to struggle not to run back to the dungeons. That alone told her everything she needed to know, that these women would make the Prince beg for an hour of torture from Jas rather than five minutes with them.
"Take him to the Great Hall," Vaisey instructs the two guards that had dragged the Prince inside. Jas stands on Vaisey's right, one hand resting on her pocket knife and the other on the back of Vaisey's chair. Just as she knew the women were dangerous, they knew she was too; predators spotting each other and trying to decide whether or not to strike and declare the winner Alpha. "You can have your Prince back once I've checked the ransom."
"Then I am left with no choice," the man observes with a calculating smile," here is your key." It's a simple thing of brass, basically just a cylinder with an oval on the top of it, the center hollow. It's set on the table next to the chest and Jas's bad feeling increases tenfold. Whatever's about to happen, it's going to start with the contents of that chest.
Death will come on swift wings to whomsoever opens this chest. She half-expected Imhotep to show up and start sucking the life from everyone in the room to really drive the point home that this was a bad idea.
"Wait," she calls out as Gisborne reaches the table, his hand hovering over the key," let one of our lovely guests open it first." All eyes were on Jas as she moves to stand next to her companion, her brows raised the tiniest bit. "Come now, don't be shy."
"Enough of this," Vaisey says, getting to his feet and stomping over.
"Vaisey, you touch that key and I'll break your damn wrist." Her gaze shifts from one woman to the other, spotting the short swords they kept hidden under the long, silk material of their vests. "You four know what I am and what my kind are capable of," she states in her authoritative tone that she uses on new recruits," now let's see if Saladin sent the right people to finish us off."
The women moved with an almost inhuman grace, taking out soldiers with such ease that Jas almost thought them Rangers until she remembered that they bore no silver cuff. One comes her way, swords spinning and flashing in the fading sunlight. Her pocket knife would be no help against them, so she settled for more defensive maneuvers until she was able to get her hands on a weapon.
"Why can't these people just fight like normal," she grumbles, bending backwards like she'd do in a game of Limbo, narrowly avoiding a sword removing her nose. She happened to like her nose, it was cute and she'd be damned if she let some assassin take it away from her. She kicks out, relying on her balance and magic to keep her from toppling over, making the assassin stumble when Jas's bare foot collides with her thigh.
"Took," Gisborne cries out from somewhere on her left. Another assassin joined the first before Jas could straighten back up, and in her panic she cries out the first thing she could think of in Gisborne's general direction.
"Save me, Barry!"