A/N: Sorry for taking so long with this chapter, guys, but it took FOREVER to write. In this chapter, Amai and Altair are in Damascus, and since the rafiqs never have names, I named him Famas. Yes, that's also the name of a gun, and I did that on purpose because he's such an instigator. I just couldn't resist.

Eris-evans, this chapter's all for you.

…

AmaiPOV

"This mission is special," Famas was telling me. "It requires a great deal of care."

But I was confused. "I'm doing something out of the ordinary?"

He nodded. "You're going to seduce him."

My eyebrows shot up to my hood and Altair crossed his arms. "What good will that do?"

"It's a bit unorthodox, I'm afraid," Famas said, reaching under the counter to produce a small vial, "But it shall prove effective on the actual mission."

"Poison?" Altair asked, clearly annoyed. But for what reason is beyond me.

"Yes, Altair," Famas sighed. "Poison."

"And Al Mualim agreed to this?"

Famas stared at him with a vicious green glare. "Is this her mission, or yours?"

I just about laughed. Apparently Malik wasn't the only one with the balls to challenge Altair, who now had nothing to say.

"Good. Now Amai," he continued, turning to me, "Majad al-Hassan is your mark. You are to infiltrate his feast and kill all of the guests. Poison the wine."

"What if they won't let me in?"

"They will," he answered calmly, bending down once again to retrieve a bundle of red fabric. "I've had on of my novices kill a member of al-Hassan's harem. You will take her place."

I'm pretty sure I heard Altair growl when he said this.

"As I said before, you must be very careful on this mission. Don't let anything break your cover. Appeal to Majad—be…" he paused for lack of a word. "sexy."

And with that Altair was almost stomping out of the room, mumbling something like, "Damn lucky bastard…"

"Aw, Famas, I think you hurt his feelings."

He looked up at me, humor in his bright green eyes. "What feelings?"

…

(AltairPOV)

I didn't watch her put on those ridiculous clothes. I didn't listen to her gripe about how different they felt, and I definitely didn't watch her bust her ass when she couldn't climb the fountain. But I had to help her out, and she left me with nothing but my bad—well, worse-than-normal attitude.

Because I'd known her for so long, I was thinking of her more as an assassin—my assassin—than as a woman. Which is why Famas' mission struck me as such a surprise. I still didn't understand why she couldn't crash the feast and kill them all.

That's not why you're upset.

Was that my voice in my head or Malik's? Hell, I was just glad this mission wasn't his—he'd be mocking me the entire time I was here.

But that's beside the point. The voice in my mind—whosever it was—was right; I wasn't particularly upset about the poison. It was actually quite smart, sneaking in and tainting the wine. Maybe I was afraid for her? I mean, what if she forgot the wine was poisoned and died? No, she isn't stupid. What if they found her out and attacked her? She could run. What if he—no, I'd kill him myself. But while I hadn't been watching her put on those clothes, those bright red harem clothes with her gold eyes shining over the veil, her raven-black hair shimmering with ornaments… I swear my brain melted a little. And the lucky bastard got to see her in them for a good few hours.

So I finally came to the ingenious conclusion that—as idiotic as it was—I was jealous of Majad al-Hassan.

…

(AmaPOV)

When I entered Majad's courtyard I couldn't believe my eyes. It was beautiful and open, with the sun glowing orange on the stone pillars and gigantic plants hugging the wall in stone pots and—

"Susri, where have you been?"

I spun around to face a girl in green, a mousy little thing who couldn't have been older than nineteen, with her hands on her narrow hips. And apparently my name was Susri. "Sorry, I was enjoying the courtyard."

"Well, there's no more time for sightseeing," she huffed, "The feast is about to start."

She lead me over to a shaded corner of the room, where there were three other women were dressed the same as us; one in gold, blue, and purple. Guests were still pouring in the doorway when Majad came out of an upstairs room, dressed in a decorated blue robe. He descended the stairs and spoke loudly, his voice echoing among the pillars.

"Welcome, esteemed guests, to my illustrious feast. It is a sort of going away celebration, as I will be leaving for Egypt tomorrow. So for now, eat, drink, and enjoy!"

By the time his little speech was complete he was at the foot of the staircase, heading toward the gurgling fountain of fermented grape juice. I clutched the little vial in my pocket. Majad took a long swallow, looked directly at me, then cracked a smile and disappeared into a crowd of his guests.

While Majad conversed with his guests, the mousy girl—whose name I eventually found was Emwiya—convinced me to eat. The food, whatever it was, was quite good, actually. I was used to dried strips of meat and water, so some fresh meat and wine was wonderful.

After the meal Emwiya told me that we were going to do our jobs, to pleasure the men of the feast. This was my moment to find Majad. As I headed into the throng of males I could hear their whispers, feel their eyes burn holes in my back (and a little lower), when someone grabbed my wrist and spun me around. Some of the others made sounds of defeat as I looked into the smiling face of Majad al-Hassan.

…

(AltairPOV)

What could I say, I was curious. I couldn't stay in the bureau with both said curiosity and jealousy gnawing at my mind. It was a little after dark now, and I figured I could take a walk that may or may not end up at Majad's courtyard.

The moon threw distorted shadows across the sandy ground as I crouched on a little section of wall that had a wonderfully convenient view of the entire place. I switched into eagle vision to scan the crowd and there she was—a little blue dot in a massive sea of yellow. A little blue dot fervently arguing with one of the yellow. Majad.

My eyebrows dipped in interest and I locked on her, so as to better hear her rant.

"Come on, Susri," he was saying, "Come with me."

Susri?

She just shrugged. "I'm not so sure about this, Majad."

"But… the way you acted on the balcony…"

I chuckled. She'd been leading him on, the devious little miscreant.

"Majad, I'm not going with you."

He looked disappointed for a moment, then regained his regal composure. "You are part of my harem. You are here for no other reason than to do what I say."

"Not exactly," she said with a smile and raised her hand to his face—her left hand. He stared at the empty space where her ring finger had been and his face contorted in anger.

"You little—!" he exclaimed and backhanded her so hard that she recoiled. "What did you do?"

I narrowed, bristling; the skin along my spine tingled with malice. My knees ached, but I didn't care—I wanted to hear what the bastard had to say next.

Amai staggered back a few steps and thumbed the corner of her mouth. "I poisoned your wine. Every single person in here is going to be dead by morning."

"Doesn't that include you? After all, you drank wine as well."

She laughed. "I'm not stupid, Majad. Of course not. You, however, are the first on that list."

"Then I will die a happy man," he said. And I didn't know what he meant until he had her up against the wall. She struggled against his grip and before long she was screaming at him in French. Fury coursed hot through my blood and I dropped to the ground, eyes narrowed to slits and the urge to kill roaring in my ears.

"That's enough, Majad." I hissed.

He turned to me with a furious expression, wondering who dared to disturb him. "Who are you?"

"A friend of hers."

He looked me over for a few seconds, decided I wasn't important, and turned back to his quarry. "We're busy."

How dare you ignore me? I walked up, grabbed him by the back of his neck, and dragged him away from Amai. "I don't care."

"Get OFF ME!" he pushed my hand away and threw a punch. I caught his hand in mine and twisted; the resulting sound was a satisfying CRACK as something broke. His elbow or his wrist, I didn't really care. He staggered back a few steps and cradled his arm with pained grunts.

I grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to his knees. "Apologize, dammit."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled dejectedly, and I sunk my hidden blade into his spine.

Amai slid to the ground and hugged her knees. I stepped over Majad's body—unknown to the rest of the party—and went up to her. She said nothing, just looked up at me with her big gold eyes, an unreadable expression on her face.

She said nothing the whole way to the bureau. When we got there, she dropped in before me, sat down on the pile of pillows, and hung her head, when her shoulders began to quiver.

"Amai…" I began, sighing in concerned sympathy. I reached out to put my arms around her but she pushed me away.

She looked at me and… well, I wasn't expecting that. She wasn't crying, her lashes weren't rimmed with tears, she didn't need a hug. She was grinning at me.

"You were jealous of him," she accused, pointing a finger in my chest.

"What—?" I shook my head, confused.

She grinned wider and crossed her arms over her crimson chest. "Face it Altair, you were jealous."

"I… you were in trouble." It was true, I had no excuse. My skill was in weapons, not words.

"But you weren't even supposed to be there in the first place."

I sighed. "You aren't going to let this go, are you?"

"It's not likely."

"Fine. I was jealous of Majad. Is that better?"

"Much," she laughed. "And I know why."

"Do you now?"

She nodded. I said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, like I'm going to tell you."

…

A/N—Okay, so it was a little OOC. Sue me. I had to do this somehow.

-D0N