ZIIO

One moment, I was hardly aware of his presence. The next, I loathed him with a passion. Next, he reached for my past and almost kissed me. We were friends. We were equals. And now this?

What were Haytham and I now?

I soaked my skin in the bath. I had never fully bathed in hot water – or at least, lukewarm water. The river was my only sanitary resort...and it was cold, even in summer. I did not want to leave the tub, partly because this was too luxurious; partly because I could hardly face him again.

I didn't deny that I enjoyed the dance. I had never experienced anything so intimate...but it was intimate with the wrong man. Or rather, the right man; wrong time of my life. Suddenly the barriers; the hedges we let grow taller that cut our lives apart; were open. It was clear in Haytham's eyes that he wanted something more. Something I could not possibly give him. But I didn't want to do something I'd regret. The one person I secretly wanted was the one person I'd never have.

"Ziio!" called Rose from the hallway.

"Yes?"

"If you feel up to it, would you like to help me in the kitchen?"

I thought for a moment. The only food I knew was meat I'd hunted myself. I could hardly imagine how to cook with Haytham's fancy equipment. I'd seen the kitchen. Earlier in the day, Rose and Henry took me for a tour of the house. It was bigger than I expected. I knew Haytham was a rich man, but I didn't know quite what it meant to be so well-off. So many pointless, yet fascinating ornaments lying around. So many pieces of equipment; of art; of decoration I'd never seen. Although I only eyed each room briefly, it was enough for the astonishment to swallow me whole.

I digress. The most fascinating room of all was the kitchen. That was where Rose and Henry toiled to deliver all the silver trays to me. There was metal here, silver there, wood everywhere else...I was unsure where to look. What was wrong with a simple spit to roast over an open fire? That was what we did at home.

"Yes. I will join you in a minute," I replied.

I dressed hurriedly in the clothes that they'd given me. Rose promised that the next day she'd let me have a serving smock, like the one she sported every day. In the meantime, Haytham presented me with a white shirt and brown breeches that were too small for him, along with a pair of old boots. It was all too big, but it would do. I was happy to remove the nightgown I'd worn for so long.

Pinning my hair back with one of Rose's bands, I struggled my way into the kitchen.

I only chopped a few pieces of meat with an oddly-shaped knife. Rose barely spoke for most of our work together, but as she bent over a pot on the fire, she asked: "So do you still love him? Haytham, I mean."

"I don't know," I sighed honestly. "Fate should be keeping us apart...yet we always end up together. Does that make sense?"

Rose nodded. "Some people are unusual pairs. People who should never have been, but are nonetheless."

I savoured her words as I chopped some green plants. "I could not possibly say I love the man," I whispered. "I have only been here two weeks."

"Much can happen in two weeks." Rose turned to face me, a knowing grin on her youthful face. "Look at you and I, for instance. We are friends."

I grinned, but deep down, guilt twisted my heart. I knew I would leave this house the moment I was able to. I thought of how much I'd miss such a loyal person like her. I distracted myself by murmuring: "What are you implying? Do you...do you think that something is due?"

The maid tapped her nose mischievously. "Who knows? Time will tell. Perhaps you never moved on from Master Kenway; perhaps you will in due course."

The knife – now butchering the meat with difficulty – stopped. Maybe this woman, younger even than me, had a better understanding of fate. I was becoming far too philosophical over this issue...but it was necessary. It was Haytham.

Over the next few days, I gained my strength by helping around the house. Cleaning, tending the allotments...even caring for Haytham's horse. She was a beautiful dark mare, by the name of Bonnie.

"It means 'beautiful' in Scottish," explained the stable boy, Robert. I had not met him before. He was a twenty-year-old, who visited every morning to give Bonnie everything she needed, before going home. I would watch him grooming her in the small stable by the allotments, while his brown eyes shimmered with enthusiasm. I had a vision, all of a sudden, of Ratohnhaké:ton when he was older. Would his eyes sparkle like the lake when around animals? I didn't doubt it. He loved animals – in fact, the thought of hunting horrified him.

Now that I could walk, I would wake up, dress in Haytham's shirt and breeches and meet Robert by the stable. We'd brush Bonnie's glossy fur and give her oats, and tell her what a good girl he was. I did wonder why – if Haytham couldn't look after her himself – why he even bothered keeping a mare. But then I remembered that he was very busy.

In fact, I had not seen much of him for days now. He stayed locked away in his office working and almost ignored me. So I explored his outstretch of green land on my own. I sat on the small hills, watching the sun peak across the wood...alone. I stared dolefully at the trees, longing to climb them again...but my condition made that impossible. It was hardly a surprise that by the end of the week, I was becoming restless.

Until one Sunday, he sat down heavily at the dinner table and sighed. His muscular arms were uptight; stressed as he ate. Normally Rose would (carefully) ask what was wrong, but she was off all afternoon. It was just him and I.

"What's wrong?" I offered.

He huffed again, fishing something out of his pocket. "A letter from William Johnson. He requested a meeting to be held here next week."

I groaned. "So that is what has kept you so busy."

"Yes," he replied, fiddling with his cutlery. That was supposedly unacceptable here, but I remained silent. The soup was too hot to eat, anyway.

"What will you say?"

"Yes, I suppose. I need to settle a few matters with them. Let them know where they stand."

Where they stand? What did he mean? I twirled my spoon in my fingers, pensive. Was it anything to fret over?

Haytham sensed that something was wrong. He reached across the table and placed a hand on mine. My heart lifted above the ceiling, until - I realised with disappointment- it was only to stop me playing with my spoon. He withdrew them sharply.

"You look confused."

"I am," I admitted. "What do you you need to settle with the Templars? Is it...is it serious?"

He brushed his ponytail out of his falling face. "Tell you what, why not read the letter?"

I shrugged. "If you like."

Haytham pulled the crumpled parchment across the table. I squinted to see the loopy handwriting scrawled onto it. It read:

Master Kenway,

I write with a plea for your consent to host another meeting. There were several matters which you and I left unsettled last we spoke. We both know that such things are delicate affairs that must be dealt with behind closed doors. Please write to me a confirmed date to hold a gathering in your house, and I will pass on the word.

I regret inviting myself into your home once more, but on this occasion it was not my choice. The Colonials are becoming wary of your behaviour, to be blunt. It is no secret that you have acted suspiciously of late, Haytham...and it is essential that we find out why. Should you be unwilling to tell, we shall find other ways of unveiling the truth.

I am sorry to threaten you like this, my friend. I have no choice.

Yours sincerely,

William Johnson

I was torn between utter disgust and sympathy.

Hey everyone! Sorry for such a long wait! I've been unbeliebably busy - with my birthday over the weekend and stuff (aha I'm 15 yay)!

Right, back to the important stuff! I feel super guilty for not communicating with you kind fellas and gals who take the time to review and read. I promise I'm gonna try harder to keep in touch with all of you! I'm sure every single one of you is a unique and interesting person...*cringe*

Hang in there, it's nearly Friday!