Chapter Seven: Waking

The dream she was expecting had turned to catch her by surprise. She had not dreamt of the assassin she had grown to be – though she did not really know yet – very fond of. She instead dreamt of the fortress she had once seen in the realm of dreams, the same stony fortress that brought upon her such ill memory. She was standing outside the fortress, in what seemed a garden of roses and other assorted flowers. She was no longer wearing her usual clothes; instead, she wearing what seemed clothes from a different place. For once, she was wearing pants, white and tight, brown leather boots, and a sleeveless shirt which was as white as her pants. A red scarf was wrapped around her neck and her arms were carrying leather gloves which reached almost up to her elbows. Her hair was shorter and completely straight.

She was not sitting alone in the garden; there were two more men with her. She could not fully recognize who they were until she heard one of them speak. One of them had the same voice as the assassin, but he was much different in appearance, his clothes at least – since she had yet to see his face – were very different. A white, long sleeved shirt, he wore, with some blue pants made up of a fabric she had never seen before. His hair was short and his eyes were brown but friendly. The other man, she had not met before, he was quite tall and his hair was a very strange shade of blond. His eyes were light blue and his cheeks always pink. He was wearing an outfit similar to the other man, with the exception that he was also wearing the leather gloves she had.

They were talking, casually, as if they were old and good friends. There was a sense of peace in the atmosphere, everything was perfect and calm. The peace did not last long though, for in the midst of conversation a subtle banging was heard in the distance. It was not strong at first, but it started increasing as every second flew by. The three of them who were at some point simply enjoying life, found themselves in a immeasurable state of alarm and panic. They had all turned to look at one point in the horizon, where a bright white light was shot upright, into the sky. A light which became blinding, before releasing some kind of shockwave which ended up pushing them three backwards, into the floor. As they lay on the floor, the banging resumed, louder than ever.

And she woke up, startled, to a different type of banging. It was not the unknown noise she had heard in her dreams it was, instead, the annoying sound of an even more annoying warden hitting her cell bars with what seemed like a small dagger. She pressed a hand over her eyes before placing both over her ears. She grimaced as she looked at him, making sure that her discontent was obvious.

"Wake up woman!" he commanded, still hitting the metal bars. The sound that came from the hollow tubes was not exactly what she had heard, no, they were different, more explosive.

"I am awake and I'd appreciate it if you stop calling me woman." She said, not bothering to keep on looking at her. He had finally stopped the racket and decided to lean on the bars.

"But I only call them as I see them." He said, trying to justify himself. He chuckled and she sighed.

"Then allow me to do so too," she said, a smirk on her face, "What brings you here so early, peasant?" She saw his eyes blink red again, and she was really enjoying it. She knew very well that there were three things that would get men horribly upset: money, knowledge and social status – the last one being the worse.

"Princess, princess, don´t push the man with the dagger." He threatened, trying to calm his nerves down. It was so easy to mess with them, Amira was starting to enjoy his company.

"You have no answered my question," she insisted, not breaking her gaze from him.

"Well, I have news. I have good news, bad news and worse news. Which ones would you like to hear first?" he was addressing her with the most utter sense of delight, which she knew, must not mean he had the best news for her.

"Just tell me," she said trying to not sound weak or as concerned as she truly was.

"Because I am a good man, I will lay off the good news first. So that you do not immediately panic." He paused, waiting for a response of some sorts, seeing as he got none he carried on. "You execution has been delayed. It will no longer take place in two days, nor will it take place in this city. You are to be shipped off to Jerusalem, where Majd Addin will take care of you personally."

"If those are the good news," she said to herself, softly, in a whisper he would not hear.

"As far as the bad news go, it is my duty to report you that your father has been murdered." He stated coldly. Her façade immediately broke – her eyes widened and tears started gathering in them. Her voice had become shaky and her skin turned even more pale than usual. "He was assassinated." The guard added.

"What? When?"More shock ran through her body, though now anger was boiling as well. She muttered, the guard looked at her, examining her reaction. Realizing it was genuine he lowered his voice before delivering the details.

"We were told this morning; apparently the killer had trailed him down to Acre. It happened sometime in the afternoon yesterday. I am sorry girl, though what worries me the most is not your father's death. And I am sure that deep inside you are worrying about the same thing. With your father dead, there is no one left to pay for the ransom. Of course all of his estates were left to you but since you are a woman, they shall be passed on to your fiancé. That would signify no problem, except that he has gone missing as well."

And now, guilt had joined the hopelessness and the anger boiling in Amira's blood. 'If I had not sent him,' she would begin saying in her head, thought she would not bear to finish the thought. Things could've been easier, so much easier. But she had decided to complicate things. She could have left with him the night before. She could have let him pay for the ransom. She could be at her house with her best friend, her fiancé.

"Stop it with the could-have's," a soft voice echoed somewhere in her head. It was familiar though she knew she had never heard a person utter it before. "Focus, we can't let them win." The voice faded and she opened her eyes, again facing the man who had delivered the news to her.

"We are going to mobilize you in a couple of hours. Your wounds will be treated and you will be properly fed. You are expected to arrive in Jerusalem in about two days, considering all the stops you will have to do along the way. As of now, your estate has been taken over by the estate, and it will remain on a stand by manner until you find a way to reclaim it or your fiancé resurfaces." He pulled out the same bunch of keys Adnan had held before and opened the lock. The door slowly opened, and the guard, on an act of unexpected chivalry offered her his hand to help her get up. Hesitantly, she took it. He pulled her to her feet and guided her towards the outside, where a carriage waited for her. She looked at the warden and sighed. She walked towards the carriage and stepped in. She was expecting a dirty and smelly cabin, judging from what it looked from the outside. Though, when she stepped in, there was a very nice and comfortable sense to it. I was soft and pretty, like the ones his father's caravans used. It was just what she needed, after a day in a stone cold prison. The warmth of the seats was just what she had expected. And it would have been perfect, if not for the man already sitting inside.

"Amira, I see you have finally made it," he said, addressing her as if they were close.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I know who you are." She replied to the young man. He was a foreigner, she could tell by the very light and pinky color of his skin. His eyes were light blue, almost like the man she had seen in her dreams. He had a certain accent as well, that clearly demonstrated that he was not from those lands.

"I am Lieutenant Aldrich Ainsworth. It is my pleasure to meet you, willow."