Chapter 17

What was I thinking?

"Sorry?" Altaïr recalled the shocked look on Ann's face at his price as he stood facing the entryway of the temple while Ann changed out of her assassin's garment further in the back.

"You ask I repeat myself? I said it perfectly clear."

I'm losing my grip with this. Al Mualim warned us not to engage in foolish behavior that could get in the way of our tasks, but this isn't foolish… isn't it? No, this is assessing her strengths to train, nothing more.

"Why the sudden interest?"

"I want to see what you are capable of. Show me your best skill and I will see where or how would be best to train you."

Though I meant every word, I cannot deny that that wasn't the main reason behind this…

He dared a glance back against his better judgment and caught a glimpse of brilliant red locks spilling in thick waves along her bare backside. He had half a thought to let his eyes linger before he snapped his attention back to the front door of the old temple.

What am I doing? This could be getting too far out of hand.

"Remind me again why you need to change?" He crossed his arms in front of him, schooling himself into perfect stillness.

"Because the clothes your Brotherhood so graciously gifted me are not well suited for the performance you want, especially when you're asking for my best work. I need something light that will allow me to move freely."

"You do not think that I can move as freely in our uniform?" Oh how he wanted to steal another look back, but he withheld his iron stance.

"I didn't say you couldn't." He heard the soft shift of fabric as she must have slipped another piece of that outfit over her skin. "You have trained and adapted to what you were given so your movements with it are well equipped. That outfit is not just suited for you and your work, but it is also your armor, shield, and disguise."

He found himself smiling. He had to give her credit, she was smarter than he first believed her to be.

"While this thing I'm putting on again isn't… ideal, it is still the best thing I have for a decent show for you."

"I'm surprised they let you keep it." Another whisper of fabric had his head tilting back and no sooner did he spot her did he feel that spark ignite in him again.

"I may have pointed out an escape route for them should things go awry, which they said if that happened then to consider this as a gift." She had half turned, her elegant fingers adjusting the band at her wrists until the loose swathes of blue hung just so along her arms. At last seeing the backside of the whole attire, he could now appreciate the billowy, translucent caplet that arched along her lower back and reached to her hips. "This'll have to do for now."

This'll do indeed.

He nearly smacked himself at the thought. What this woman was doing to him was going to put him and his reclaiming his rank at risk.

"So much for scout's honor."

He snapped back to reality to see her glaring back at him.

"If I can't take you at your word to not peek, then for each sneaky look you take, that'll cost you." Her hands moved to tie back some of the longer locks away from her face, though several shorter pieces still fell and brushed her cheeks.

Altaïr felt the smirk she could no doubt see spread on his lips. "And what is this cost I am to pay?"

The grin that came on her face, before he would have scoffed at, but now it only seemed to add fire to the spark within him. Thank god there was no veil hiding her from him now. "For every unsolicited peek, that is one extra hour of rest for each trip among our missions."

"That's too steep a price."

"For too steep a look, fair is fair, Altaïr."

To his surprise he heard himself chuckle as he fully turned to her. "We shall see about that. Now, will I see your finest work or not?"

"Patience is a virtue," she chimed as she reached for her instrument and took to the front of the temple where the ceiling had arched into a large dome overhead. She looked at the setting around her and he noted when her eyes fell on various ropes tied to beams and the stone benches that lined the walls.

She was calculating her environment.

And her feet, bare against the stone floor, walked with elegant confidence.

This… This was an entirely new side of her he had yet to see. The glimpses he caught of her handy work against armed guards before were quick and fluid enough, but hesitation sooner or later would take over, nearly costing her. What he saw now was skilled precision… and she hadn't even started playing yet.

He thought to say something, a comment on how she was wasting time, but then he heard a small, simple melody.

Her back to him, it wasn't coming from her instrument. It was a hum, her voice sweet and lulling, enticing him to step closer to her. Then she raised the violin. Her bow arching slowly before it reached the strings and strummed the first note.

Soft and gentle at first, he barely noticed when her feet beneath the billowing blue skirt began to move. Simple, small, and perfectly timed movements as the song started to take life. She turned, body swaying with the longer notes before the chorus kicked off and she spun in sync with it.

Her movements became quick and fluid with the rhythm, an agility she held so perfectly that it surprised even him especially when she leapt onto one of the stone benches. Light on her feet, she twirled, skipped, and her skirts revealed more complicated footwork beneath, she never once missed a beat.

She was far more skilled than he pegged her for. Fear in the heat of battle was her ultimate undoing and it only became more clear the more she moved. Even when she skipped from one bench to the next, she glowed with pure confidence that left him utterly captivated.

She leapt forward, tossing her bow into the air as she twisted midair beneath it, abruptly ceasing all music until her feet clapped on the stone floor and the bow… This shockingly brilliant woman caught it with such ease and wasted not a second more before she had it dancing atop of the strings again for its final crescendo.

And the ending notes of this song…, they fell back into that gentle play just as it had all started. Until at last, the bow glided to its end, leaving only the hollow echo of a masterpiece dancing off the temple walls.

Now it was her panting breath that replaced the melody, and he soon found her eyes falling back on him. He, a former master assassin that had known how to hunt in silence now stood as still as death for a whole new reason.

"Is that all you have to say?" A smile played on her lips at his awestricken posture.

"Alas, I know not what words to give."

"How about 'bravo'? 'Good show'?""

"Those are not enough."

Ann faltered as Altaïr found it in him to move, to approach her 'stage'. "The way you move puts even our lower rank assassin's to shame." She cocked a brow. "What's more, your precision and agility is stronger than even some of our higher ranked assassin's. Were your bow a blade, you would have been a master assassin in no time."

He stood before her now, her gaze meeting his beneath his hood.

"You are far more than I first thought you were."

She blinked, baffled and so caught off at his words that she looked away from him. Embarrassment? "I—…" Her cheeks tinted red. Why did that bring him such delight to see? "I would've settled for 'great job'."

"No, you wouldn't," he smirked.

"What?" She whipped back at him. "Coming from you, yes I would!"

He raised a brow, bemused, "Oh?"

"Apart from when you stood up for me to Al Mualim, I haven't known you to bestow such high remarks, so yes, yes I would."

At the mention of his name, Al Mualim's words were all but an echo in the back of his mind now. He reminded himself that nothing they were doing now was foolish behavior. A small delay, but an efficient one where Altaïr could properly help her hone a few skills for their future missions. No, the time they would spend here was important for their future.

"I say what I know." He turned and walked around her until he was directly behind her. "And by the time we leave, I know you'll have found a way to reach that platform." He pointed over her shoulder before she could turn back to him at a small level just in front of a large window several feet above the door they first entered through. There were no crevasses, beams, or polls on the wall beneath it, meaning that she would have to find some other way to reach that. "The moment you can get up there with ease, will be when you're ready to go back into the field."

"I…" He noticed a stillness that overtook her. That fear she would need to overcome. "… thought you were going to train me more in combat."

"Oh, I will." She looked back at him. "I suggest you get plenty of rest tonight. The second the sun rises, your training will begin. A crash course in agility, scaling, balancing, pick-pocketing, hiding in plain sight, and… combat. Do not expect me to go easy on you."

"You're relentless…"

*~*

He wasn't kidding...

Altaïr had allowed her to rest a full night, bundled up back in her assassin's uniform once more to guard against the night chill, before he woke her to the first rays of dawn to begin. He had brought with them provisions, stored a sack she noticed he had after they left Damascus, that clearly looked like what was intended to last them several days.

He planned it all. Was this even the same Altaïr she knew from before?

His remarks on her delays in accomplishing each task told her it was still him.

He had her walk on the benches, demanding each row she finished to move faster on the next. Next was the leaping across them with him telling her to not linger for more than a second on each bench before she was to jump to the next one. How she feared slipping up and falling off each one with a busted ankle. She did fall several times, however, when he had her running to walls to try and pivot her up to the nearest thing she could grab onto. He only paused for her long enough when she felt the air shoot from her lungs and her gasping to regain her breath. After a couple times of that, he had her move on to practicing hiding in plain sight and pickpocketing. At least she could hide decently well, but almost every time she tried to pickpocket Altaïr, she would suddenly find his "blade", imaginary for now, to her throat.

The combat training she was the most grateful for. How she wanted to knock that smirk she constantly saw him making at her clear off his face. Get any sort of payback against him for his ruthless training.

Unfortunately… even that seemed to backfire on her at every turn.

His spinning to counter her strikes and use her movements against her thwarted every last attempt she made. Hell, he even grabbed her by the front of her clothes to first pull her toward him before practically throwing her back. She lost count exactly how many times he had knocked her on her ass.

The last time he'd knocked her down, she was spewing several profanities that actually had the man laughing. The sound alone took her completely off guard as she looked up to see his hands splayed out beside him, sword still in one of them. "I was ranked as a master assassin. Even after we finish here, you won't possibly have the skill to bring me down."

She glared at him, but not before her own smirk reached her lips as she slowly pulled herself back to her feet, her muscles practically screaming in protest as she did. "Challenge accepted."

"Hmm." He angled his head in that damning arrogant way of his. "A novice besting a master is unheard of, do not waste your breath."

"But not impossible." She brought her sword back in front of her. "Some of the most impossible things done were fueled by spite, and believe me, I have a healthy dose of that right now."

There was that damned smirk again.

"If you can beat me, then I'll give you a whole night to rest in our travels."

"A night and two hours of daylight."

He cocked a brow at her.

"I hate being rushed during my breakfast, you WILL give me that if I can get you at least once."

There was that laugh again. Whether or not it was wishful thinking on her end, she was going to give her damnedest to get him before they left this temple. "Very well," he dropped back into his stance against her, his smirk turning into something more wicked that sent chills down her spine. "A full night and two hours. Don't expect me to hold back anymore."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." She matched his wicked grin before she lunged for him in another round of combat.

*~*

How she was going to even move to train for the next day, Ann didn't know how. Her entire body screamed and throbbed even when she was just sitting propped up against one of the stone pillars.

They had just finished their dinner, which felt like a horrendous and brutal chore, when Altaïr approached her again. "Can it be that the woman who believes she can best me can barely stand?"

"If I can move from this spot, it's to take you down the second I can get my hands on you." Despite determined fueled words, she felt her body cry in protest. A cry it seemed that Altaïr heard perfectly as a chuckle escaped him and he offered her his hand.

"I would like to see you try."

She eyed him for a long moment before she gave in and pushed herself to reach for his hand. He pulled her to her feet with ease at first until she found herself stumbling into him. God, she was so incredibly exhausted, he barely even registered his hold on her to keep her from collapsing back to the floor.

She did however notice a sudden change in him. An abrupt stillness or perhaps hesitation?Her head on his chest as if it were a pillow, her weight against him like a crutch, she could make out the steady, strong beat of his heart. Had this been any other day, she would have pulled back immediately or expected him to shove her off, but her exhaustion had stolen all her energy to care… well… maybe not all of it.

"All bark and no bite," he spoke after she could tell he was regaining his composure. She felt his arms move around her, as if to pick her up off her feet and oh…, how she was tempted to just let him whisk her off to where she had slept the previous night amongst a pile of assorted pillows tucked away in a corner. Tempted to even just close her eyes and drift off right there in his hold…

"Are you sure about that?" She half spoke, half mumbled against his chest.

"Hm?"

"Were you a real target, you'd be bleeding out now…."

Inside the sleeve of her right arm she had a dagger tucked way. One she had slipped in without Altaïr ever noticing, only now it was in her hand and pressed his torso, just under his ribcage.

She felt his body just barely jolt against her before he realized exactly what she meant. "Clever little devil."

The words made her smile. Now she was fighting to keep her eyes open, but she managed to look up… and for once, she wasn't sure what look she was seeing on his face. Even with torches lit, with day darkened to night outside, deep shadows were cast over his eyes beneath the hood. Not that she could trust her eyes to begin with now. All she could make out was the gentle curvature of his lips, the faint stumble of facial hair,… and how much closer he seemed to be.

She wasn't completely sure what happened. Time dropped into a lull. The crackle of the fire in the nearest torch sounded further away, and the world blurred, save for him and the intense warmth emitting between them. She believed she felt his rough, calloused fingers against the back of her neck and his face tilted closer… before the door to the temple swung wide open.

Exhaustion evaporated by sudden adrenaline, especially as Altaïr threw one arm protectively around her while the other ripped his sword free of it's sheath and whirled it between them and their intruder. It took all but a couple of seconds before Ann could focus on the single man in the doorway that stood terrifyingly still.

The mysterious black assassin found them.