Chapter Twenty-Nine;

Consequences

"I find no peace, and have no arms for war,

and fear and hope, and burn yet I freeze,

and fly to heaven, lying on earth's floor,

and nothing hold, and all the world I seize."

Petrarch's Sonnet 134, translated by Anthony Mortimer

"I have to do this on my own," Cora said as she stuffed supplies into her saddlebags. As soon as she realized that Maebh was truly gone, she had raced back to the house, intent on leaving as soon as possible.

"This foolishness is what got Maebh taken in the first place," Riordan shot back, grabbing her back. "I won't let you walk into a trap."

Cora snatched it back, slinging it over her shoulder as she slid her pistol into the holster behind her back. "And do what, let them have her? And how dare you blame this on me! I was the one who begged you to understand that the longer I stayed here, the more danger I was putting everyone in! But oh no," she screamed, "who wants to listen to a woman!"

"That's not what it is and you know it," he yelled, his hand flying through the air as he spoke.

Always the peacemaker, Nuala stepped between them as if to break up a bar fight. "Yelling won't solve anything."

"Please," Cora said, turning to her aunt, "you have to understand. I am the one they want. I will not allow anyone else to be put in danger for this! Riordan has no idea what he is up against. I don't even know if he's capable in battle!" Riordan leaned forward, as if he wanted to refute this, but Nuala gave him a hard look and he held his tongue.

"I think you should listen to your sister, Riordan. She knows this threat better than any of us. If she says it will be better for her to go alone, perhaps she is right."

"What, give herself in exchange? What does that achieve?" His voice was somber and vulnerable now, and Felicity lay a hand on his shoulder. Cora sighed, rarely able to stay angry when someone showed such genuine feeling.

"You have to trust me, Riordan. I know what I am doing."

"We lost you once, Cora. We can't lose you again..."

"You won't," she said gently. "I promise."

Riordan shook his head, rubbing his forehead in desperation. "Just... Be careful."

"May I make a suggestion?" Nate asked, stepping forward from where he had been standing with Aoife. When Cora nodded, he continued. "Perhaps when Cora leaves, the rest of the family can return with me to my parents' home in Philadelphia. You would be safe there," he said, glancing at Aoife.

Though Cora could see Riordan's hesitation, she spoke in agreement. "If you are certain your parents would be willing to take us in, I think it would be wise... Now that they have shown they know where we live, it is only a matter of time before they come back. This, at least, would buy more time. As of now, the Templars are strongest in Boston and New York. I believe they still struggle to gain much ground in Philadelphia."

"It does sound safer," Felicity agreed, looking at her husband as she spoke. With that, Riordan finally relented.

"When should we leave?" he asked wearily.

"As soon as possible," Cora answered quietly. She could see that no one truly wanted to leave their home, but they all seemed to understand that it was the wisest course of action. As she hugged each member of her family goodbye, she hoped she would not fail them, too.

Boston, 20 Hours Later

Cora had scarcely arrived in Boston when the Templars made their presence known. It was a small boy, perhaps no older than eight, who stopped in front of her horse.

"Excuse me miss," he said in a small voice. "This is for you." Thrusting a paper up at her, he stared at her with wide-eyed curiosity.

"From who?" She asked, hesitating to take it.

The boy shrugged, shaking the note in his hand as if to demand she take it. "I dunno," he said. "Some man over there," he explained, pointing to the left. Cora looked hard, but saw no one. "I swear he was just there..." Without another word Cora took the note, her hands trembling as she unfolded it.

Meet me at the stables. Do not delay, and do not try anything. We are watching.

Despite the vague note, she knew exactly who had written it, and what stables he referred to. Thomas' immaculate script had always been a strange contrast to his personality. She thought it odd that he wished to meet so near to where she had once been kept... Did he think someone would not find her there, if they realized something was amiss? She had meant to try to send word to Victoire, alerting her to what was happening, but if they were watching her... Under any other circumstances, she would have risked it, but she could not bring herself to make such a gamble when her sister's life was at stake.

Reluctantly, she headed toward the meeting place, taking the long way in hopes of seeing someone she knew along the road, but she was not so lucky. Even if she had, though, she did not know how she would have conveyed a message without attracting their attention.

When she reached the stables she dismounted, keeping a hand on her weapon as she walked toward the center of the small courtyard just behind it.

"Where are you, Thomas?" She screamed, rasping in anger and desperation. "I swear to God, if you have-"

"Ah ah ah," Thomas warned coolly, shaking his head as he emerged from the shadows. "Your sister depends on your good behavior."

Flushed with anger, Cora unsheathed her sword and took a step toward him. Just then, though, a man came from around the corner, dragging a writhing, screaming Maebh along with him, his hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Cora felt her resolve falter for a moment when she saw her sister's tear stricken face, the fear in her eyes... Fear crept into her own heart as she imagined what they might have done to her, but she steeled herself for her sister's sake. If there was anything Maebh needed from her in this moment, it was to see that Cora had control of the situation.

"Listen carefully," Thomas said, clasping his hands behind his back as he began to speak as if this were a cordial business negotiation. "I will release her if you give yourself up to me."

Suddenly, all of Cora's plans seemed to fall collapse in her mind, and as her eyes darted between Thomas and her sister, she tried to think of a way to get out of this. "You know I never will," she said calmly, pointing her sword toward him.

"Let me convince you," he said, nodding toward his accomplice. The man held a knife to her sister's neck, and Maebh gave a muffled sob as she flinched, squeezing her eyes tightly. It was only then that Cora realized she recognized him. Narrowing her eyes, she scrutinized him, trying to figure out where she knew him.

"You," she rasped. Now she realized that she had seen him dozens of times around the township in the past few months... Drinking at the tavern, walking along the road, loading carts into a wagon. She assumed he was just another of the town's laborers. To think the Templars had so deeply infiltrated her life... The thought broke her focus, and she took a step back, trying to keep her head.

"I need your answer," Thomas said.

"Don't do it!" Maebh screamed, the man quickly restraining her once more. Cora quickly searched the premises. Thomas was unarmed – of that she was certain. Besides the other man, no Templars were visible, though she was certain they would not have come here without more support. If she could only get past Thomas and make it to Maebh before the others came... It was risky, but it was her only choice.

Cora lowered her weapon, walking toward Thomas as if to surrender. Just as she was in range of him, though, she slid a knife from her hip and threw, not bothering to look as she bounded toward the man who held her sister, though she heard his mangled cry of pain and anger as she reached him. The man threw Maebh to the ground, drawing his sword and blocking her strike just in time. As they exchanged blows, she could hear the others swarming the courtyard. Though she fought as hard as she could, it was mere moments before she was surrounded.

Thomas came forward, his previously calm demeanor rather diminished as he held a bloodied arm at his side – evidently, either she missed or he had moved out of the way. "Put your sword down, Cora," he said harshly. "It is over. Your sister has already paid the price for your unwillingness to cooperate."

Panic stricken, Cora looked over at Maebh, who was laying on the ground with a serious wound to her face. When had it happened? How? Fear overcoming her, she lowered her sword. She knew a serious injury when she saw one. If turning herself in was the only way to save Maebh's life, then so be it, even if death was the price. "I will come with you under one condition."

"Do you really think you are in the position to bargain with me?" He asked. He wound have laughed if he wasn't so shocked by her nerve.

"If you take me now, I will fight," she warned. "I will fight and struggle and kill as many men here as I can before I am subdued. If you agree to my terms, I will go willingly." Cora did not expect Thomas to agree. Bargains and promises were not his way. Even so, he looked hard at her, as if truly believing her words.

"What are your demands?"

"Let my sister go. Right now."

Thomas shook his head disdainfully. "I offered that before your actions brought her injury."

"Put her on my horse right now and take her home. She has done nothing... I am the one you want. Let her live, Thomas. Do one good thing in your miserable life and let her live. Do what your brother would have done," she added. Though they had not gotten along, Cora knew Thomas had loved his brother. Such an appeal was her only chance.

He was quiet for a few moments, staring at her with such hatred that she was certain he would refuse. "Fine," he said sharply after a few moments. "Choose the man you wish to escort her, and I will let them go."

Cora knew few of these Templars. Most were new, likely replacements for the many that had deserted as Olive fell in standing. There was one, though, that she knew to be decent. Often harsh, yes, loyal to orders, yes, but she knew he had his own moral code – one that did not involve harming injured girls. After selecting him, she watched as they brought Ealga around. The man let her smell him before he mounted, and though she was obviously uncertain about this new person and reluctant to obey one other than her master, she seemed easy enough as they lifted an unconscious Maebh onto the horse in front of the man. As they began to ride out and Cora's mind began to come up with another plan, Thomas issued a stern warning. "If you put one toe out of line," he said as he grabbed one arm, ripping the sword from her other hand, "I will track them down and kill her before she ever reaches home."

She had no doubt he was serious. When they turned onto the street, Thomas yanked her away. She stared at the ground as they led her back into where she had spent so many years of her life in pain and solitude. Once, she had sworn she would never come back here, but now... Now it was over, and she felt it. It seemed to be the only thing she felt, as they searched her for weapons in what used to be Oliver's office. As they removed her weapons, laying them neatly on the desk, Thomas made some crude remark about removing her dress as well, but Cora did not acknowledge him. When they put her in a cell and locked the door, she sat on the bed, leaning her head against the wall. So much had changed since the last time she had heard a lock click behind her, and though she had been determined not to give them the satisfaction, she felt her eyes brimming with tears.

Once, she had believed that tears were a sign of weakness. Now, she was thankful for the relief they brought to the emotional pressure that had built up within her heart, threatening to burst. Perhaps some may have thought that she was spending her last moments in a pitiful state, but she had long since learned better. Laying back in the bed, she tried to think of what she would do if Thomas made good on his promise to visit her. There was no way she would let him touch her. As she had learned that there was no shame in tears, she had also learned that she had it in her to fight to the last breath – and that was what she would do.

Victoire had been returning from Duncan's when she spotted a familiar horse running at full gallop down the streets of Boston. She had no doubt that it was Ealga, and though the horse flew by, she could just make out a brown-haired figure sitting slumped in the saddle. Certain it was Cora, she pursued. When the man lay dead and she had gathered the woman into her arms, she realized she had been mistaken. The woman was more a girl, perhaps barely of age, and Cora or not, she was seriously injured. Victoire did not hesitate to bring the girl home with her and send for help.

"What happened?" Duncan asked as they watched the doctor tend to the girl's wounds.

Victoire shrugged, leaning against the door post as she watched him place bandages over the right side of her face. Victoire could not imagine the pain she would be in when she woke, and even when she did heal, the scar would mark her for the rest of her life... Still, she selfishly hoped that the girl would wake soon. She was absolutely certain that the horse she had been riding was Cora's, and her mind was running wild with scenarios.

"All I saw was Ealga running by and a flash of a man holding a dark haired woman limp in the saddle... Obviously I assumed it was Cora, but..."

"Why would two strangers be riding Cora's horse?"

Victoire shook her head. "I have no idea."

Duncan must have saw the fear in her eyes, as he moved to put an arm around her. "I am sure she is alright," he said gently. Victoire could not manage a verbal response, only nodding her head and leaning into his chest.

Victoire was nearly asleep when the girl finally woke up, murmuring as if in a feverish dream. Gently, Victoire brushed her hair back with her fingers, trying to see if she was truly conscious. With a sudden gasp, the girl became aware of the pain, and she clutched at the bandages that lay across her face. Victoire held her hands back, trying to soothe her as she writhed in pain.

"Please," the girl rasped, "help."

"I am trying," Victoire said, motioning for Duncan to get the doctor as the girl repeated her pleas.

"The doctor is coming," Victoire said gently, though this did not seem to comfort her.

"My sister," she cried, "she is in trouble."

At this, Victiore's heart lurched, putting things together in her mind. Though she was confident that her suspicions were correct, she needed to hear the girl say it. "Tell me your sister's name," Victoire said, trying to mask the urgency in her voice.

She grabbed Victoire's hand tightly, half from pain and half from fear for her sister's life. "Cora."

Hours earlier, Thomas had stormed into her cell, yelling about going back on her word. Though Cora honestly had no idea what he was talking about, it did not stop him from descending into violence. After he left, she had managed to drag herself to the bed, and though her body ached from the beating, nothing frightened her more than the knowledge that Oliver could walk into the room at any moment. When the door finally did open several hours later, though, she did not recognize the guard that came through it.

"Let's go," he hissed, grabbing her arm and roughly dragging her from the bed. Though she strained against his grasp, she could do little to escape it. Cradling her free arm against her tender abdomen, she hobbled along next to him, trying to think of a way to evade the fate she knew he was bringing her to. Part of her wished she could still her racing mind, that she could accept that she was going to die and walk toward it with the strength and dignity Oliver had spent so many years trying to strip away. Yet though she wished for courage and peace, she held only longing and regret in her heart.

As they approached the door that would lead to Oliver, she swallowed hard, trying to straighten herself so as not to give him the impression that they had broken her. When Thomas appeared at the end of the hall, though, giving her a sick, victorious smile, she felt her resolve shrink. They were halfway down the hall when the explosion went off, throwing her against the wall.

She woke to fire and pleading screams. The roof just before her was consumed with flames, and it seemed much of it had already collapsed in the explosion. Groaning, she got to her hands and knees, trying to muster the strength to get up and walk out. Between the beating Thomas had given her and the impact of the explosion, she knew she was weak. If she did not get out soon, she would die – if not from Oliver, then from the smoke and fire. Bracing one hand against the wall, she slowly managed to pull herself up, though she staggered when she finally got to her feet.

When she turned to face where she had been standing just before the explosion, she could see that the guard transporting her still lay unconscious on the floor. Thomas, on the other hand, seemed to be the source of the screaming. He lay trapped under debris, the fire creeping closer and closer with every moment.

"Help me," he begged upon seeing her. When he realized who it was, she could see his face falter, but he soon resumed his pleas for help. "Damn it, you bitch," he called, still trying to wriggle free from the heavy beam that lay across his back. "Get me out of here!" Despite her wounds, she was certain she could lift it enough for him to climb out.

For a moment, the fear and urgency pulsing through her veins gave her strength, and she took a few steps toward him, standing as tall as she was able and looking him in the eye. "I'm sorry, Thomas," she said slowly. "I am only a woman. My soft heart could never bear such a thing," she said, repeating his own words back to him. For a moment, Thomas fell silent, staring back at her with a resigned look. As she turned to make her way down the other hall, she could hear him struggle once more, and as she leaned against a wall, trying to gather her strength, she heard his screams of anger turn into screams of pain.

Now, the fire was advancing quickly. It cracked and roared, and between the pain and the smoke she was inhaling, she could feel herself growing slower. When a group of guards appeared, yelling about something she couldn't make out, she darted down the hall, hoping they hadn't seen her. Just when she turned to make sure they weren't following her, she tripped over a stray beam, smacking her forehead against the floor so hard that she could taste blood in her mouth. With labored breathing, she crawled forward, coughing as the smoke grew thicker around her.

When she pulled her hand away from her mouth, she realized that a bleeding lip was the source of the blood she had tasted, though whether it was from biting her lip during the fall or from Thomas' hand, she wasn't sure. Lungs stinging and body aching, she knew she had to get to her feet again if she wished to get out alive. As she pushed herself up, she found that someone was helping her up. Initially, she shrunk away from the touch, but the familiarity of the person's voice made her heart leap.

"Victoire?" She rasped, her voice breaking as she realized she would make it.

"Of course," her friend replied, grabbing Cora's arm and laying it across her shoulders so that she could more easily support her weight. "Did you think I would let anyone take you from me?" Unable to say anything, Cora managed a smile and leaned on her friend, who turned her around and led her toward freedom.

As they made their way out, they came across a hallway blocked with debris, half consumed with flames. Victoire cursed under her breath, trying to remember another way out, when she felt Cora strain against her. When Victoire looked up, she could see Oliver on the other side of the flames, staring back at them. His face was covered in soot, his clothes torn, but she could see he wished to pursue them as much as Cora wished to kill him.

Victoire glanced at Cora, watching as her friend's gaze flashed to the sword that hung at her hip. "Cora please," she said as Oliver stepped toward them, stopped only when someone put a hand on his shoulder and seemed to motion toward the burning debris that lay between them.

"I have to," Cora said through gritted teeth. "I have to end this."

"You will," Victoire said, trying to lead her down another hall. "But not like this... You are in no condition-" Despite Victoire's urgings, Cora stepped from her grasp, as if drawn into a trance by Oliver's gaze. At this, Victoire stepped in front of her, grabbing her friend's shoulders. "Live to fight another day, Cora," she said sternly, begging her to let it be. Cora narrowed her eyes at Oliver, taking one last glance before she relented and let Victoire lead her to safety.

Duncan was waiting with horses, and helped her to mount Ealga before the three of them rode away. When they returned to Victoire's, he carried her inside, laying her on the spare bed. After that, Cora remembered little of the next several hours. There was a doctor speaking to Victoire, and familiar faces hovering over her. The next several hours were spent in and out of sleep. When she finally woke up, and Victoire told her what had happened to Maebh, it was all she could do to keep herself together. The doctor had said she had been lucky, that the tiniest difference could have cost Maebh her sight, or her eye altogether. At least now, she was safe.

"Is she fit to travel?" she asked the doctor, anxious to be gone from this place as soon as possible. Though he appeared quite hesitant to agree, he also seemed to understand the urgency and danger of their situation.

"If you must," he said with a sigh. "But I would take great care. Infection is still a risk, and anything too strenuous could re-open such a fresh wound. I would suggest transporting her in a cart, and not by horseback." Cora sighed, glancing at her sister once more. Though she wanted to let her rest, she knew they could not stay here... It would only be a matter of time before Oliver found them.

"Please consider waiting until the morning," Victoire said softly when the doctor finally left. "I will have Clipper keep watch from the buildings across the street, and post more guards in various places to make sure no one finds us or tries to enter."

"You know I cannot stay," Cora said, leaning back in the chair.

"I understand why you say this, but please, Cora. You are in no state to travel right now, either. You would hardly be of any use to your sister were something to happen and you were unable to take action."

"That won't change with a few hours sleep," Cora grumbled, stubborn as ever.

Equally relentless, Victoire kept pressing her. "Then wait until morning, get what rest you can, and I will accompany you."

"I can't ask you to do that."

Victoire grabbed her hand, smiling softly. "You are my closest friend, Cora. I could not bear it if anything happened to you." With that, Cora agreed. It seemed she was never able to resist such an appeal to the heart. Perhaps Thomas had been right, and she was soft hearted. With time, though, she had learned that compassion, love, and empathy were not bad things to have. She had lived for many years with a hardened heart in order to keep going, but what kind of life had that been? It had been surviving, not living. Through all she had endured in the past year, she had long since decided that survival was not enough. She wanted to live a full life, and if that meant she was soft hearted, then so be it.

"You should rest," Victoire suggested. "Your injuries-"

"Are nothing," Cora finished, her eyes still on her sister, as if some harm would come to her if she even looked away. "I have seen worse." Victoire sat down again, sighing as she looked at her friend. Looking at the bruises that blossomed over her skin, the large cut above her eye and several ugly marks on her neck, she wished that Cora was just being dismissive. From what she had told her, though, Victoire knew that she had indeed endured much worse – a thought that was difficult to imagine.

It was obvious that Cora's sullen mood was from much more than her injuries, or even her sister's. It felt like it had been ages since Victoire had seen her friend smile or laugh in the way she once had. It was as if she could see the burden laying across Cora's shoulders, weighing her spirit down.

To her surprise, it was Cora who began a conversation. "Have you and Duncan decided when you will be married?" she asked, finally looking away from Maebh. "It seems like it has been ages."

"It has," Victoire laughed. "Near a year, now... But Duncan wants a real wedding, with a church and guests and fanfare, and everything has been too busy to plan such a thing."

Cora nodded, resting an arm against her abdomen as if to hold her skin in place. "It will happen in time."

"I suppose. Besides, in all honesty I feel as though we are married already. All that we are missing is living together, though we often spend enough time together to feel like we do," she said with a soft laugh. At this, Cora glanced up at her friend, and Victoire could see sadness flash in her eyes. When she looked away again, staring into the distance, she had no doubt that Cora was thinking of Connor.

"I wish..." Trailing off, Cora sighed, unable to complete the sentence.

As always, Victoire did not let her off that easily. "You wish what?"

"I wish things could have been different, with Connor and I..."

"You still love him," Victoire said, posing her words as a statement rather than a question. Though Cora did not nod or give any other response, the look in her eyes was answer enough. "You should go to him. He is here, in Boston..."

Cora felt her stomach twist upon itself at Victoire's words. To think him so close... For a moment, she imagined what it might be like to go to him, to return what they had lost. Just as quickly as the thought entered her mind, it was tempered with the hard truth of reality.

"He would not accept me," she said. "And I would not blame him."

"You cannot truly think that he no longer loves you," Victoire said, leaning forward as her tone became more serious. It drove her mad to see them both so tormented by longing for the other, yet too blinded by their stubbornness to do anything about it.

Cora did not answer, only resting one hand on her stomach, smoothing out her dress. "When I returned home, I thought I was with child," she said slowly. "When I realized I had been mistaken, I felt as though some dream had been ripped from my grasp... Like I was being taunted with a glimpse of happiness I would never have."

Grabbing Cora's hands, Victoire looked her in the eye. "But you still could have it," she said softly. "All you can do is try."

The house was quiet when Cora got up from her bed, wincing as she leaned down to put on her boots. Her body ached fiercely, but nothing could compare to the way her heart throbbed with the hollow pain of longing and regret. Despite refusing to heed Victoire's advice earlier, she had lay in bed thinking of Connor, of how much she missed him, and how much she needed him in that moment. So, against her better judgment, she now found herself tying a cloak around her shoulders and leaving the house, pulling her hood up as she glanced at Clipper perched upon the roof of the adjacent building.

As she wandered through the streets, clutching her hood tightly with one hand and the hilt of her sword with the other, her mind ran through countless scenarios. Would he reject her? Would he take her into his arms and forgive all she had done? As she approached the tavern, something told her to turn back, but she continued on.

She saw him sitting at a table inside, only a few other patrons scattered about the room owing to the late hour. Stephane was seated across him, and they seemed to be discussing something serious. Frozen next to the window, Cora watched them for several moments, trying to think of what she would say. Before she could muster the courage to enter, though, Connor looked up and caught sight of her watching behind the glass. At first, he did not recognize her, and she watched as he subtly motioned to Stephane. Knowing he probably thought her a Templar or some kind of spy, she lowered her hood.

At first, Connor's eyes widened. Though she did not know it, Connor felt his heart swell with concern at the sight of her. He had heard about Thomas' death and the destruction of the fort in which she had once been held captive. The news seemed to confirm that she was no longer working with the Templars, but the thought that she ever had, the idea that she had once tried to fool him with kindness and friendship... It was too much. Even if that wasn't true, he still could not forget the way she had spurned him.

When he stood, staring at her, Cora soared with the hope that he had already forgiven her. She placed her hand on the window, her lips curling into the slightest of smiles, but when he did not return it, her heart sunk into her stomach. Instead of coming to her, he turned and left, leaving her alone at the window flushed with embarrassment and the pain of rejection. Placing a hand over her mouth, she leaned against the window, finally accepting that she had truly lost him.

A/N: Another update! I'm quite proud of myself for maintaining a relatively consistent update schedule in the past month or so, but I must warn you all that as the new semester begins next week, it may or may not continue. Hopefully I'll be able to keep it going, especially since I'm not imagining that there will be many more chapters, but we'll see! I'll definitely try my best to get some writing done every day but I tend to be a slow writer and there's only so much one can do! Thanks so much for the reviews (esp BonesMcCoy and PheonixWolfGirl), follows, and favorites! They are so appreciated!