Chapter 4

I smiled as I watched my first student accept tea from my future father-in-law.

She was still the same little firebrand that I had known so many years ago.

I noticed that she eyed Mulan and Fa Zhou with thinly-veiled respect, something that she was not known to bestow upon any bloke that came across her path. It had taken a fair amount of time before the little scot gave me any at all.

Both Mulan and she had the same passion, the same fire, and the same wish to help others.

While Mulan was calm and confidant, the scottish warrior was brash and eager to fight anyone who crossed her?

She seemed calm and composed, as she gave Fa Zhou a small smile in thanks.

She caught my eye, and gave me a smirk. "It's been three years, ya mop-headed git. It took ya less than a year to make Mulan the woman she is. How many times has she laid ya on yer arse?"

I smirked back. Good point.

Besides Mulan, she was one of the few that could read me like a book.

"You would know about knocking me on my ass, Phea."

She chuckled. Phaedra MacPhearson never giggled. She either chuckled or laughed.

She fought like the best warrior, thanks to me, but I may have helped make her more masculine than feminine.

But then again, I thought, as I watched the two girls chatting, maybe I shouldn't worry.

After a long talk between the two young women, Fa Zhou cleared his throat.

"What can you tell us about the Palace, my dear?"

Pheadra paused, glancing at me. "The Master is up to his elbows in it, but he refuses to be helped."

I scoffed, anger flaring. "Damn him! I should have known better than letting him getting into this mess-"

Fa Zhou cut me off. "Your father trusted him, amd he is your elder."

I turned to face him. "And how do you know that my father trusted him?"

After Fa Zhou recounted the ghost's message, Pheadra raised her eyebrows, as I began to pace. "Erm...all right. This is getting a wee bit complicated, but nothin' we cannae sort out."

I stopped pacing. "True, but what to do now is the tricky bit."

Mulan sighed. "We will think, not to mention talk, about this tomorrow. It's too late for this kind of talk."

I made to argue, but I was feeling sleepy, and Mulan's glare told me she wasn't taking no for an answer.

An hour later, Mulan lay next to her fiancee as he slept.

He never made a sound, but he did seem to soften in his sleep, the weight or burden on his shoulders seeming to melt away.

"You should be asleep as well, ya know." Pheadra said, as she watched from near the doorway, like a lioness keeping watch over her cubs.

Mulan rose from her prone position carefully, so as not to awaken him.

Sitting on the bed, she looked up at the scot. "I want to know what he was like before he came here."

The scotswoman lowered her hood, frowning. "Why? You don't need to know-"

Mulan cut across her protest impatiently. "I have a right to know, if I'm going to be his wife!"

Pheadra bristled, her nostrils flaring. "Keep talkin' like tha', and you won't get anythin' from me!"

Mulan sighed, fighting back a retort, and Pheadra folded her arms across her chest. "I want you to promise me that whatever ya might hear, you will never, ever hurt him or leave him. 'Cause I swear to Minerva that I will make ya beg for a quick death!"

Mulan softened, and looked over at her sleeping fiancee. "I promise that I will try my very best."

Pheadra smiled, immoderatley pleased by the love in the foreign raven-haired woman's eyes.

"So mote it be." She intoned, then she began to speak.

FIVE YEARS AGO.

Young Phaedra, age thirteen, sprinted into the former grainery near Smithfield, Alaric beside her, aged twenty.

It was a small hut, and recently abandoned. It was soon meant to be a blacksmith, but now, it was the scene of something else.

Near the middle of the floor stood a disheveled Templar, a middle-aged salt and pepper haired man with a permanent sneer of superiority on his face.

"Guard the door, Hellcat." Alaric told the girl, who nodded, frightened by the cold fury in her mentor's eyes.

Phaedra was his pride and joy, his only reason that he smiled, at least, according to his fellow Assassins. Alaric was feared and respected as one of London's best Assassins, a cold but inwardly caring man.

Only Phaedra knew his caring side.

To their fellow Assassins, he was a cold-blooded relentless hunter, a loner possessed by a rabid need to kill those who were responsible for his parent's deaths.

Now the last one of the conspirators had been hunted down at last.

"Good morning, Count Argus. Or should I call you Grand Master Argus?" Alaric said, his voice deceptively calm, but Phaedra heard the raging predator in his voice, begging to be unleashed.

Grand Master Argus sneered. He was a man of great wealth, born into a high-class family, and the owner of many estates. He was arrogant and conniving, a self-interested man who wouldn't hesitate to kill in order to remain in his position.

Today, Rufus knew, would be his last. "Alaric Rose, I presume?" Rufus asked, his deep voice posh and prim.

He yelled as a throwing knife embedded itself into his left shoulder.

"You assume correctly, Templar scum!" Alaric snarled, and Rufus spat in his direction. "Lower class rustic! I just had this suit purchased a day ago!" Rufus said, pointing to his dark blue suit and cloak.

"Holy hell, I don't care!" Alaric rejoined.

After a short fight, the Templar sank to his knees, clutching his stabbed chest.

"Typical! Just like a Templar: good at talking, ass at fighting!" Alaric snarled, barely having broken a sweat.

Argus glared at the boy whose parents he had murdered.

"Kill me, then. Kill me like you killed my brother Templars, you filthy coward-"

A second later, Alaric's Hidden Blade buried itself in the Templar's throat.

"COWARD? WHO ARE YOU CALLING COWARD? COWARDS LIKE YOU DON'T DESERVE TO LIVE, SO JUST BLOODY DIE!"

Alaric stabbed the man until and after the man had stopped bleeding.

"The only thing that stopped him doing much more was me. I had to pull him off of the bastard." Pheadra took a deep breath, and watched Mulan carefully.

The young woman, her elder by at least five years, had tears in her eyes. Mulan looked down at Alaric, then back up at Pheadra, blinking back her tears.

"He's not that man anymore. And that was a special case, anyway. I know that man deserved what he got, and Alaric is at peace now."

Pheadra made to argue, but Mulan cut her off. "I know what he is, and what he was. I still love him, and I always will."

Pheadra smiled, and sat next to Mulan on the bed. "Aye, I can see tha'. By the way, did ya know that he is a virgin?"

Mulan raised her eyebrows, but couldn't stop the grin that stretched across her face.

"Aye, a virgin, if you believe. He was popular with his looks, but he didn't have time for a lover at home."

Mulan felt enormously relieved, and blushed at Pheadra's next question. "Is he a good kisser?"

Mulan smiled at her. "You can't imagine."

Pheadra grimaced. "Have you two...you know."

Mulan turned a healthy shade of crimson, and was about to answer when Alaric's voice interrupted her. "Pheadra, you pervert!"

Pheadra snorted. "My arse, I am." She replied sticking out her tongue at me. "It would be much simpler if you would just feck her and get it over with!"

I pointed sternly to the door, as Mulan turned a violent shade of crimson. "Out!"

Smirking victoriously, she did just that.

I turned to Mulan, and then gasped as her lips crashed against mine.

I allowed her to push me back onto the bed, my hands tangled in her silky hair as her intoxicating taste filled my mouth.

I shivered as her hands roved, and I allowed my hands to do so as well. I was suddenly hard-pressed to remember my own name, as she pressed kisses down the length of my neck.

After a good snog, we lay in each other's arms.

"What would I do without you?" I asked, nuzzling her neck.

"Perish the thought!" Mulan said, stroking my cheek.

And I obeyed her.

The next morning, a messenger from the palace arrived: Pheadra, Mulan, and myself were going to visit the Emperor, who had a task he needed completed.