The atmosphere at the manor wasn't much different in Connor's absence. It gave Achilles more free time, but my routine was much the same. I only had one less person to clean up after.

I think the old man did miss his protege. He would often call on me to play a game with him or talk to me about the creed and requirements of the Assassins. He would get annoyed with me when I made jokes or mentioned that he looked sad about his boy being gone. I took it as a good sign that he was still his usual self. But he spoke of his apprentice more than usual. I sometimes listened without comment as he complained about Connor's naivety and bragged about his dedication.

"I wonder how strong he will be in his convictions when he's finally forced to take a life."

I shrugged and moved my game piece. I didn't know what to say to that. Killing someone was no joking matter, so I forewent humor in favor of solemnity.

"I wouldn't be able to do it," I told him.

Achilles watched me for a while before looking back at the board. "There was a time I felt the same as you, Faith. But it has been many years since I entertained such childish notions."

I stared at him realizing for the first time what he really was. He was a killer. He had murdered many people in his life. I wondered if it weighed on him, the things he'd done. Or if he found enough solace in the fact that what he did was for the greater good to consider that it was wrong. I had idealized the Brotherhood. They did what they did and I withheld judgment because it didn't affect me personally. Yet, here I sat next to a man who was part of that order and believed in it without doubt. And he was a man I cared about. Could I really see him as a good role model when he was ruthless killer?

Yes, I decided. What he'd done would not change how Achilles treated me. If he felt he'd done right, I would let him think that. It didn't mater what I thought. My personal opinions would change nothing and I wasn't going to give up the best part of my life because of his religion. To each their own. And I knew where my loyalty lay.

Even though I didn't promise Connor I wouldn't, I refrained from touching any of this stuff while I stayed in he room. The times I felt the desire to do so, I caressed the bracelet he'd made me for Christmas. I still ogled his mother's necklace, but my longing to hold it was sated. I'm not sure why I liked it so much. I'd seen far more extravagant pieces in my time. But it's simplicity and pure sentimental value made me jealous. I'd never owned anything that wonderful. I think part of my envy was due to the fact that I had nothing from my mom. I couldn't even remember her name. I didn't know what she looked like or how she'd acted. She wasn't even a stranger to me. She was a nobody. Just as I was a nobody to her.

It was the end of April when Connor came home. I didn't realize until I saw him again that I had sort of missed having him around. He was often busy and we never had much time to spend together, but his presence made the house feel less empty.

Plus there was the fact that he had promised to teach me to use a bow. I was planning to make sure he kept his word.

I had just gotten up and was heading downstairs when I noticed Connor on the couch in the spare room. One of his arms was hanging off the edge, and the other was tucked beneath his head as he slept. His mouth was parted and he was breathing loudly. I watched him for a second with a grin. He was sort of cute when he was asleep.

I couldn't let it last, though. I walked over and knelt beside him.

"Connor," I whispered.

He didn't move.

I said his name louder.

Still nothing.

I smiled. I debated on what to do to him while he was unresponsive. I thought of many things. None of which were exactly pleasant. I abandoned them at the possibility that he would respond in a rage. I remembered how strong he was and decided I didn't want to be on his bad side.

But there was one thing I was interested in doing that I doubted he'd let me if he were conscious. I sat down and looked at the hidden blade on the wrist that was dangling off the edge of the sofa. It took me a few seconds to see how it was secured. When I knew, I began to carefully undo the straps. I peeked at Connor's face every so often. It never changed from it's contented restful state. As I slid the bracer off his hand, it twitched. I paused. Connor continued snoozing so I finished removing it without hesitation. I studied the blade with fascination. I could see the mechanism that made it work. I released it. There was a sharp grinding of metal and a snap as the blade ejected from it's holster.

It amazed me that such a soft noise could wake such a sound sleeper so easily. I scooted back as Connor jerked awake, my heart racing. His left hand raised, and I was thankful there was not a weapon there for him to use. Connor noticed it's absence and looked at me. His eyes went to the bracer in my hands. He said what I guessed was a curse in his own language and sat up. He ripped the blade from my hand, closed it and glared at me.

"This is not a toy, Faith!" he yelled.

I pushed myself to my feet and tried not to be too angry at him for yelling. I suppose I had deserved it.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Connor put the bracer back on his wrist and inspected it. I backed up a step as he stood. I thought if I gave him his space, he would calm down. His expression remained groggy and aggravated.

"I asked you not to touch my things," he said.

"I didn't touch any of your stuff while you were gone," I told him. "But, you're home now..."

I knew it was a lame excuse. I didn't really blame Connor for the scowl he gave me for it. Or for what I assumed was a string of curses in Mohawk that flew from his lips.

"So you think that justifies playing with my weapons?"

"I wasn't playing with it," I argued. "I was looking at it. And I tried to wake you first."

Connor let out a doubtful huff.

"I did!" I stated.

He eyed me for a second then turned and began a quick stride out of the room. I followed him.

"Connor-"

"Leave me alone, Faith."

I had intended to apologize to him, but he was being so unreasonable that I resorted to arguing. "I don't understand why you're so mad at me. It's not like I broke it!"

Connor swung around. He looked down his nose at me. The way he did it irritated me even more."You had no right to even touch it!"

I got in his face when he raised his voice at me. I'd controlled myself with him as long as I could. "You can't tell me what I can and can't do!"

Raising my voice only served to make him angrier as well. He glowered at me, making his tone louder than the one I had used. "When it comes to my possessions, I will tell you what I choose!"

"Don't you yell at me!" I shouted.

"Then you do not yell at me!"

His voice echoed through the hall and I was ready to retort in the same way when another voice got my attention.

"Both of you stop yelling!"

Connor and I turned to look at Achilles. He was standing at the top of the stairs. One hand held his cane – the one I'd given him – and the other clutched the railing. I backed off, shocked at how harsh his tone was. He was old and weak, but really frightening when he was mad. Yet, the rage faded so quickly I began to wonder if I'd imagined it. He looked at Connor.

"Welcome home. Go prepare for training."

Connor stormed off to his room and slammed the door.

That's when Achilles looked at me. I recoiled like a child who'd done wrong. "Get dressed and go make breakfast," he said.

For some reason, the calm in his voice was worse than the anger. I felt horrible regret for my behavior and my face grew hot with shame. Achilles limped back downstairs. I started to go to my room. Then I remembered that I had taken the few clothes I owned to the other bedroom. I groaned and walked to Connor's door. As I started to knock, it swung open. Connor was standing there with my stuff in his hands. He didn't look as angry as he had been, but there was still agitation of his features.

"Here," he grumbled as he handed me the pile of clothes.

"Thanks," I mumbled as I took them.

Connor closed the door and I went to my room to do as I was told.