37
It was just after dawn, when she canvassed Hightown, and found the Comte's mansion. He must have known that he was a wanted man, as he had heavy locks, magical barriers across his windows, and a pair of stone security sentinels. It was nothing that Isabela couldn't handle. She hadn't gained the reputation as The Orlesian Crows sharpest knife for nothing. She found a loose tile on the roof of his mansion, and her entry route was planned. She would do the deed tonight.
She watched the house for most of the morning. The Comte seemed to be in the constant company of his pretty Comtesse. It was a shame, but there was often collateral damage during high-stake assassinations, and the woman would be in the way.
The night at Hawke's had answered her questions. The connection was undeniable, but Hawke was trapped somewhere between love and hate. It was too complicated, and the kiss had been a mistake. Isabela didn't even know why she'd even done it. She came to Kirkwall for business, not to reopen old wounds. The sooner this man was dead, the sooner she could get away from Hawke, and all the confusion that was brought by merely being in her presence.
Isabela went back to The Hanged Man, sharpened her blades and took a nap. She would need to be well rested and at her best for tonight.
Isabela dropped in through the roof, landing silently on the lush carpet. She took in her surroundings. She was in the study. If she remembered correctly, the Comte's bedroom was two rooms over. It was a few hours past midnight. The De Launcet's would be deeply asleep by now. Isabela had tipped her knives with a poison that would make death instantaneous.
She kept to the shadows and treaded lightly. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, making her job that much easier. She silently stepped past the open door, and crept into the bedroom. The room was pitch black, making her acutely aware of her other four senses. A familiar scent tickled her nostril, and she instantly dropped to the floor. She hit the carpet and ducked under the bed a split second before a crack of lightning went shooting in the direction that she had just been standing.
"Hawke, stop, it's me!" she called out desperately, praying that the next round of bolts would not find her.
"Isabela?" the mage's voice cut through the silence. Isabela heard Hawke click her fingers, and all the lanterns in the room were suddenly lit. "This is the business that you're in Kirkwall for? You're a sodding assassin now? I should have known. You suddenly appear again, right at the same time as a hit is called…" The mage was sitting on the bed, fully dressed. The Comte and Comtesse were nowhere to be seen.
"Where is he, Hawke?" Isabela demanded.
Hawke crossed her arms over her chest. "As if I would tell you! You intend to kill the man!"
"Hawke, you don't understand. He has pissed off a lot of Orlesians. I was paid a great deal of money - up front - to do this. If he doesn't die, they will be sending someone after me."
"Do you know why he's pissed off so many Orlesians?" Hawke asked, getting off the bed and standing a few feet in front of Isabela.
"No. It doesn't matter. They paid for a service. One that I am going to render."
Hawke took a step forward. "It doesn't matter? Of course it matters! You were going to kill him, and probably his wife too. The Orlesians hate the De Launcet's because the family actively campaigned to end the Orlesian rule over Ferelden. They got aid sent to Denerim during the Blight, and their latest transgression is setting up a charity for Fereldan refugees. He's a good man, Isabela."
Isabela sighed. "I don't care about Ferelden. I need to kill him. Whatever they're paying you to be here, I'll meet it. Give me their location, and I'll double it. Just walk away from this, Hawke."
Hawke met Isabela's eyes defiantly. "I'm not here because they paid me. I'm here because they're my friends. The De Launcet's are under my personal protection. If you wish to fulfil this contract, you'll have to go through me."
Isabela pulled out her knives. "Don't test me, Hawke. I've done some seriously terrible things to ensure my own survival. You, of all people, should remember that."
Hawke walked slowly towards Isabela. "Then go on, do it. It won't be the first time you've betrayed me, nor the first time I've felt the bite of your blades. But, I hope you're sure. I won't wake up from dreamland, this time."
The tension was palpable as Isabela met Hawke's stare. "You're serious? You would really die for this principle?"
Hawke's jaw set. "Yes. And you would really murder me for a bit of coin. So we're left with only one possible outcome. Would it make it easier for you if I turned around? After all, I know you prefer to stick your knives into people's backs."
Isabela paused for a long moment, anger and frustration ebbing away at her. This wasn't the first time her life had been in the balance, and Hawke had refused to take her side. It would be easier to kill her, especially as she stood in front of Isabela, unarmed, hands behind her back and all her vitals exposed.
The moment seemed to last forever, Isabela silently contemplating, until she finally conceded defeat. "Maker damn you, Hawke! I'm going to die because of you. If Castillion's men don't find me soon, the Crows definitely will!"
"Nobody will hurt you, Isabela" Hawke responded calmly.
"You say that as if you have any control over it! You don't know these people, you can't stop them."
Hawke looked Isabela in the eyes with sincerity. "The horned skull of the last man who meant to do you harm is still mounted on the wall of the Viscount's Keep. You have my word, Isabela, no harm will come to you."
Isabela sighed angrily. "I believe you. Or, I believe, that you believe. Maybe that's enough… Ugh… fine, you win. Consider the contract cancelled."