ZIIO

That day, I unfolded everything.

I was correct about one thing: my explanation did take the best part of the journey. I was not, however, correct to mistrust Eva and George. Only minutes before I began the story, Eva was a ghost in the crowd. Was a silver blade enough to chisel my mistrust? Well, as she did disparage Thomas Flood (who was now apparently a Templar), it was enough. The more I shared with Eva (Soyala occasionally joining in), the more her face sealed a certain softness. My village. Haytham. Enslavement, and the past nine weeks of despair.

Eva was indeed an Assassin; only just, she explained. Her mentor Ethan Wilding had worked alongside Achilles Davenport: my distant friend. A dispute between Wilding and Achilles had severed their friendship. Wilding still wrote to Achilles on matters of the Assassins, but in 1763, the old man stopped writing to Ethan altogether.

"Perhaps Achilles was killed," George suggested to his wife. "After all, his Brotherhood was all but wiped out by Templars."

Even so, Wilding's only son – Jack – began training in his father's footsteps. The boy was now a middle-aged man, though Jack had befriended George Stirling in his youth. They saw one another frequently for years that followed. Soon after her marriage to George, Eva was acquainted with Jack Wilidng. She was inspired by his honourable cause.

"When I found I could not bear children, Jack offered me a new purpose. A new sense of direction."

Unperturbed by her gender, Wilding took Eva under his wing. She trained in every physical aspect, yet her mind – as Ethan described it – was a "natural Assassin"; she required little teaching of Assassin morals. Ethan was an excellent mentor to the twenty-year-old: he saw Eva not as broken fragments, sharp and unfixable. He softened her in many respects; fine-tuned her strong conscience. But at the same time he sharpened her like a blade. Eva's burning beliefs against corruption was what made her an Assassin. Since her arrival in Boston (aged only eighteen), she regarded slavery as a violation of voice. That was her true goal as an Assassin: to grant freedom to those who deserved it.

But she acted alone.

There were hardly any people who agreed with her morals: what was wrong with slavery? Negroes and Indians were disregarded as human, anyway. They were an efficient workforce, domestic or otherwise. Why should Eva bring rights into question?

Jack and his father were the only other Assassins. Their base was in Virginia, at the Wilding's small townhouse. The only reason Ethan Wilding had moved from Achilles' Brotherhood was to recruit Assassins in Virginia. What, with the scars of the French and Indian War, plus the rising tension throughout the land, there were bound to be some men aiming for peace on a non-political level. But he was wrong.

There was one man – James Gould – who was recruited in 1763. That was the year Ethan Wilding died; there were only three Assassins left. Taking on position as leader, Jack almost gave up hope of ever finding anyone to keep the Order thriving. That was never to say there was no Templar activity. Many of the upper class Virginians trafficked freed slaves and women with foreign blood; sold them to brothels to fund the Templar Order. Naturally Eva was determined to free them, but Jack saw the flaw in her plan. What would happen then? They'd only be kidnapped again; sold back into prostitution. Slavery was a vicious cycle.

Instead of working to directly free slaves, Eva set about picking off the authorities. She assassinated a few of these traffickers; some Templars, some not. At the same time, she set the slaves free – but none were willing to join the Order. All they wanted was to escape America; to return to their homes. How many of them made it, Eva never found out. But the fact that she saved trafficked women – who had doubtless faced abuse – explained why Eva took to Soyala and me.

George could do very little to help. He was a celebrated doctor in the area, having been a sailor for the British Navy in his youth. Infected shrapnel in the leg caused him to fail his next medical exam; George moved to Philadelphia and began training in the medical profession himself. That was when he met Eva – but that is another, quite dramatic story. Although George treated any sick slaves that Eva brought in, he was not actively involved in this three-man Brotherhood.

"I hope it shan't stay that way," Eva said. "James has scouted the borders to find any whom the Templars have wronged."

"Has he had much luck?" Soyala asked.

"I'm afraid not."

I glanced at a bruise on my skin. I was someone who'd been wronged, most of those responsible being Templars. Eva only knew that now – which explained why she was revealing all this.

"I don't understand," I hummed. "How is it that Thomas Flood is a Templar? I thought Johnson fired him three years ago."

"From the small threads I've gathered, Flood returned once more, asking if there was anything he could do under Johnson's employment," Eva replied. "Johnson wanted to make use of Flood's brutality. He sent him to this Haytham Kenway of yours..."

I held my breath. Of course, Haytham was the leader of the Colonial Templars – but he would never wittingly employ a slave overseer, would he?

"Did Haytham know of Flood's past profession?" I blurted.

Eva glanced sideways at her husband, then at Soyala. "Who knows? Believe what you will; nevertheless Flood joined the Templar Order. Why, he was the perfect candidate. Order. Purpose. Direction. Is that not all he wanted from his merchandise?"

I nodded bitterly, inwardly praying that Haytham hadn't known. Why would Johnson tell him? It could've revealed my captivity. Unless...

"How long ago was this?"

"Recently, as it happens. Early on this year."

I sighed with relief. "Then Haytham did not know. Johnson would not let him know."

"Indeed." I sensed a lot of doubt in Eva's voice. Whenever I'd mentioned Haytham in the story, she'd winced. He was a Templar, yes – and Eva had never met him or any of his closest subordinates. But essentially – she'd explained – all Templar authorities interlinked. Haytham couldn't possibly be responsible for the slavery. It made me shudder considering the thought. Eva, however, did not trust my (constant) reassurance that he was no enemy of hers.

Even if that did not work, I'd convinced myself that the Stirlings were not my enemies. That was a leap forth in itself. Even as I was spilling my life story, I felt some of the fear ebb away. This couple understood me...even sympathised with me. Yes, while Soyala had acted as my only source of comfort, she could not relate on every level: she was a child; myself, not so. It was a breath of clean air.

As we neared Philadelphia, the sky was blacker than ink. Surely that was the best time to operate as an Assassin? Why had Eva chosen daytime, and what was she doing in Amsterdam?

the answer was that she was tailing Flood. He'd been "a suspicopus target of late"; even more so when she saw him talking to an overseer of Johnson's. This man (from the fragments of conversation Eva heard) had given Flood a generous sum of money.

"'You'll know her when you see her'," Eva recalled. "'If she's docked at the plantation, she's out of trouble. But for pity's sake, don't lose the auction. I would prefer to keep my job...and my head.' Then I'm convinced I heard Flood say: 'Why did William not think of this solution to begin with? Would've saved us all a hell's worth of trouble. With all the times she and the negro tried to escape...'"

"I only attempted escape once," Soyala protested, "and Flood did not punish me for it."

Either way, Eva followed Flood into the square. When she saw us, it pulled on her heartstrings very suddenly. Why the sight affected her so, I mulled over, but couldn't work out. She was a middle-upper class woman (even if an Assassin). Where – and how – did she connect to Soyala and me?

I asked her this question just as we arrived. George and Eva lived in a large house on the lush outskirts of Philadelphia. Seeing the sloping hills of woodland, I felt instantly at ease. Here, I'd be closer to nature; closer to home. But what about our sleeping arrangements? Was Eva seriously considering taking us in? What of the child? I didn't want to think of that. Looking at the open space – then the house – made me forget my predicament.

Luckily, the Stirlings' homestead did not resemble Johnson Hall in the slightest. It was a mixture of Haytham's, Achilles' and the townhouses in Boston. The bricks were the same red colour of Achilles', though it was smaller. There was a window either side of the polished porch; three above that, then one at the pointed roof. The exact same layout as the Kenway homestead...except with an air of modern freshness. I would come to like it here.

Once inside, George rushed upstairs to arrange our 'chambers'. I was grateful even for a bed that wasn't moth-bitten, but when Eva announced that we would each have our own quarters, I couldn't believe it. Soyala thanked her over and over – before rushing upstairs to see her promised bedroom. I remained downstairs, taking in this home. The hallway floor was a white wood; the walls a rich turquoise framed with gold ornaments. It was so unlike any other house I'd visited: slightly orthodox, but sweetly simple. I supposed being a doctor paid handsomely.

"You look lost."

I turned to face Eva, who set about lighting all the candles. I had been distracted by a wooden table of relics – but I had other things on my mind, too. "No. I was thinking."

Eva struck a match. "About...?"

Why did George not protest to your spontaneous rescue? I wanted to ask. How is it you are not phased at all by two – eventually three – new additions to your house? Are you sure you want to keep us? Why am I trusting you, after all I have witnessed?

Eva put her hands on her hips – a highly unladylike gesture in this culture – and stared expressionlessly at me. None of my questions would leave my lips, so I summarised them as: "Why are you doing all this?"

A ginger eyebrow flinched, impressed. "You've every right to mistrust me, Ziio...though I doubt very much that you will."

"I would not like to," I murmured, "but I cannot wholly believe all this until I know the reason for it."

"If you're concerned for your freedom, don't be. I will never trap you here – look, the door is open." Eva walked towards me, green skirts swishing like tails. She put a hand on my back and guided me to the open front door. Although the midnight forest was distant, it was there. So I had open space. That wasn't freedom. I wanted home; my son...but anything was better than Johnson Hall.

"Will you free us?"

Eva's pale hands reached for mine, but I felt no comfort yet. "You must understand: I cannot grant you full freedom. I can swear this, however: that I will never compel you to do anything. You may do as you wish here – but I cannot release you from these lands. Flood is still out there, and he does not act alone. Releasing you would mean sending you straight back into Johnson's hands."

I knew this already, but my stomach sank further. It could be years until I saw Ratohnhaké:ton again – but as I said, this was better than Johnson Hall. Besides, Eva was not enslaving me: she disagreed with the trade. So what did she want? Why take us all this way, just to keep me and Soyala safe?

"Just you wait until Jack hears of this," she smirked. "He'll have my guts for garters. He'll say I indoctrinated you, as well as supporting the market I seek to destroy. And James! He'd yell his throat raw, surely. Never mind. It was an issue close to my heart."

"Why? Why was it close to your heart?"

"Because you were vulnerable."

Vulnerable. I despised the word, but it was true. "Is that why you went to all this effort for us?"

For a moment, the composure in Eva's eyes flickered. Perhaps I was wrong, but I clearly remember something: a flash of panic before her eyes, before she shuddered slightly. The same happened to me whenever I thought of...of my slavery. Eva hid this moment very well; she looked me in the eye and murmured: "I have suffered your pain. I, too, was assaulted."

I gasped. Eva was raped as well? Instantly, that changed my opinions of her. The 'broken fragments' she spoke of, they were the scars of abuse. She must've seen the flash of terror in my eyes, while Flood approached me at the market stall. She understood. She felt she couldn't leave me. She was here to help me, after all. But there were still many questions unanswered. I dared not ask, especially as Eva retracted her hands and closed the door.

"It has been a long day for all of us," she said. "You should get some rest."

"Thank you. Thank you for everything."

My bed chamber was that of a queen's. It had the same wooden floor; also a beautiful white dressing table, a fireplace, a bed pristine as fresh snow and an overhead curtain draping like a royal banner. It filled me with elation that I'd be staying here. But for how long? What would my role be among a female Assassin and her doctor husband?

Far too many questions, and I was far too exhausted. They'd be answered in the morning.

Well...most of them were.

Being a doctor, George had earned himself a respectable reputation. In society's eyes, Eva was an orthodox wife. She cleaned, she cooked, she cared for her husband. While that was the truth, it wasn't the whole truth. It did mean that there was a restriction on our freedom: when the Stirlings had guests over (which was hardly ever), we were to act as slaves. Not that Eva particularly cared about reputation. It was for our safety (as George rightly put, there was no knowing who connected to Flood). Two of the barely-used guest rooms became mine and Soyala's quarters.

Eva vowed never to order us around, but we volunteered with domestic duties from day one. I was so grateful for the Stirlings' overwhelming hospitality; I cooked, cleaned and filed documents for George anyhow. It was instinctive for Soyala, who – as well as doing her part – became intrigued about the so-called 'Virginian Assassins'. While George was at work that week, she and Eva sat down at the dining room table to discuss it. I eventually joined in.

"I should write to Jack today," Eva thought aloud. "He is still unaware of you being here."

"Will he mind?" Soyala asked.

"If he thinks I brainwashed you into the Order, yes. And while my view on the Templars is biased, I have not recruited you forcibly. Nor will I ever."

"Why must the Assassins and Templars fight?" Soyala pressed. "In a time of inevitable war, will they take sides? Or is this a different fight altogether?"

"Good question." Eva was clearly impressed: she put down her cutlery, eyes wider than saucers. "I hadn't considered that. Well...as the British promise to instil order, I imagine they'd appeal to the Templars. Although you are right, Soyala. In the centuries the Assassins and Templars have fought, politics has affected everyone's loyalties. But it is never the central issue. I pursue my enemies in wartime and peace."

"And if the British vow to free all slaves, then what? Will Assassin and Templar fight as brothers?"

I sucked on my lip, savouring such deep thoughts. "I wish the war would be over with, if the people are to start one. Look at this land. A great thundercloud, waiting to erupt. It will complicate everything."

"We could do with both your insight and wisdom," Eva said dryly.

Does she mean that? It certainly gave me the feeling our stay here was indefinite. No. I shouldn't presume in such a situation. It would only bring disappointment. But where else could Soyala and I go? Was Eva really intent on keeping us here?

The sudden thought of ending up back in slavery made me sick. Perhaps it was a nausea from tiredness, or even from pregnancy, but I decided to excuse myself from the room. As I closed the door, I could hear Soyala's intrigued voice questioning Eva on the Assassin Order.

While I knelt washing Soyala's new yellow dress (Eva had even donated half her wardrobe to us), I mulled over the future. Where would we be in a month's time? Two? Six? Would the baby be born? A shiver tore through my body at the thought. Every time the baby pained me, I had a vision of my assault. It'd begun to creep into my dreams at night. It haunted me hourly...and despite the Stirlings' hospitality, I still couldn't shake the fact that I had fallen. Did I truly want this child? I would have to find out when it was born. Still, it did not feel as if the baby was mine; or – in fact – as if this life was mine.

Albeit I'd have to live this life.

A week later, Jack Wilding came to visit from Virginia. He was thirty-seven: thirteen years older (and wiser) than Eva. She'd explained the situation by letter; he'd come to make certain we could be trusted.

Any trustee of cynical Eva was a trustee of mine. From the moment Jack shook my hand, I knew he was here to help. There has always been a placid wisdom in his eyes, a patience...and I was instantly relieved when I saw it.

We sat down with cups of hot tea, which Soyala had learned to prepare perfectly. It took four people to explain our predicament, and a lot of time – but through it all, Jack simply absorbed our recount of the previous week. At the end, he scratched the dark stubble on his chin.

"So, in short..." His voice was mellow like Haytham's, only American. "You've been through a hell and a half to be here."

I didn't acknowledge it, but the way I snorted meant I didn't deny it either.

"Ziio, if you don't mind me asking," Jack began, leaning forward and pressing his pale fingers on the table, "what is this information that Johnson needs so desperately? Why are you his most wanted treasure?"

I froze.

Should I tell him about the precursor site?
No. My mother swore me to secrecy!
If Achilles knows, I'm sure Jack will not exploit the information.

"On the outskirts of my village..." I knew not why I was whispering, but leaned into the candlelight anyhow. "There is a site of great interest. A cave, with evidence of spirits long gone from this world. Behind a sealed door lies a secret; one which the Templars are bound to abuse. My mother always told me it was some sort of weapon. The problem is, Haytham owns an amulet which looks like the key."

Eva's eyes flicked nervously at her husband. I never mentioned the precursor site on our journey here: it was far too dangerous.

"Before I knew he was a Templar, I took him to the site with this amulet. Haytham tried to open the door...and nothing happened."

Well, not exactly nothing. I smiled inwardly just thinking of me consoling Haytham, which led to our first kiss. But my reverie was snapped short by Eva clearing her throat.

"Did the other Templars know of this?" she asked.

"They knew that his attempt failed. And when I discovered Haytham was a Templar, I wished him gone from our land for good. He abandoned his search for the precursor site, but Johnson and the others were still desperate to open that door. And what better way to find answers than interrogate a Kanien'kehá'ka?"

Soyala's brown eyes were wide next to me. "You never told me any of this."

"I'm sorry," I sighed. "I couldn't risk being overheard on Johnson's premises. It would mean...I don't know what this said weapon is, but I am certain that Johnson – or perhaps Lee – would use it for their selfish gain. You see? This is why Haytham is no enemy. He could have asked me how to open that door in 1760, but did not. He would never abuse the knowledge I gifted him with."

Jack, Eva and George exchanged disbelieving glances. Nothing I said could make them trust Haytham – but I wanted them to understand my reasoning. Already Eva had (reluctantly) pledged not to kill him. But would she, had I never met her?

"Did Achilles know of this...this precursor cave?" Jack inquired.

"Yes."

"In which case, he should have his Assassins defend it," Soyala suggested. "They're the only men that the Templars would succumb to, are they not?"

"They would be, if there were any Assassins," Jack sighed. "My father was one of the last in Boston, and he is no longer here. The reason we moved to Virginia was to recruit more men and women...but in a time like this, nobody will give their time for a non-political cause."

It struck me how similar Jack was to Eva. The way they spoke – even little mannerisms – were synchronised. George seemed somehow out of this picture: he leaned away from the table, arms folded. I hadn't paid much attention to Soyala until now. Her elbows were pressed into the table so firmly, I thought she would fall through it. I'd never seen her so tense, even when facing punishment, or crying. What was going through the mature mind of hers?

"In fact," Eva huffed, playing her coppery braid, "it was a slim chance that we met a woman who knew about the Order. But that'll change, I'm sure."

"Are you?" Jack replied coolly. "That seems a little optimistic, Evangelina."

The braid fell from her hand; her face coloured like sunset. "I don't answer to that name!"

"Precisely. In the same way that I do not answer to your dream."

"What are you talking about, Jack?"

"Look...for years you have vowed to rebuild the Brotherhood brick by brick. Yet how can you hold the weight of this organisation, if you cannot find a single recruit?"

Eva gritted her teeth. "I'll keep digging."

Jack opened his mouth to say something, then closed his eyes in resentment. It was the same way my father used to be, when my mother grew defensive. "The thing is, James and I conclude that we should do what we can with the three of us. Give up hope of finding new Assassin blood – and just pick off the trouble as it grows. It is all we can manage. I'm sorry, Eva."

"But...what about your father? His goal? His purpose for relocating?"

"All dead," Jack shrugged hopelessly. "For all I know, we could be the last Assassins in this land. If Ziio has not heard from Achilles either, what straws have we to clutch at?"

A heavy silence rolled across the dining room. Eva's chest expanded like a brooding hen, then she released a defeated sigh. George sensed her despondency; he rocked forth and put an arm around his wife. Jack diverted his attentions, reaching for his teacup...then realising it was empty. It was a shame, I thought, thinking about how passionately Eva spoke of her cause. She, Jack and James – whom I had not met – would have to plough through the Templars slowly. But this war would slow them down more; perhaps even grind them to a halt. Then what would Eva do?

"I want to join the Order."

If you're wondering, it wasn't me who spoke. It was Soyala, staring determinedly into the candle. The table snapped back to life. Everyone – George included – made some form of movement. I nearly jumped backwards in surprise. One person I'd never expect to hear that from was fifteen-year-old Soyala.

"What?" I hissed at her.

"You heard me. I want to join the Brotherhood."

Eva opened her mouth to speak, but Jack put a hand out to stop her. "I'll deal with this. Soyala, are you certain you know the gravity of your wish?

"I've had a week to make my decision. I am certain."

There was a depth to her voice that I'd never heard. A darkness. I'd watched this girl grow from child to adult, far too young. I'd consoled her as she wept like a sycamore tree. I'd shared – to her childlike, enlivened face – my secrets and past. But I had never seen this fire in her eyes. It scared me slightly. What was Soyala thinking?

"It's far too dangerous for a child like you," Eva blurted. "You are simply not the build of a full-grown fighter."

"I am strong," Soyala said defensively. "Building bricks at Johnson Hall gave me a body of steel. Please, let me join the Order."

"Now, listen..." It was George, with a foreboding frown. "I'm sure it would take years of training, with the possibility of death. Are you prepared for that?"

"Not to mention: you have only known of us for a week. If you think you are educated in all that Eva and I do –"

"I am! Eva has spent almost all her time explaining, has she not? Ziio, has she not?"

Baffled by my sudden involvement, I said nothing. I wondered if this was brought on by Soyala's naïve nature. She didn't mean this. She was not fully aware that Assassinhood meant killing, violence, danger...

"I am willing to train, if only you could teach me. Your cause would let me aid those who lived what I lived. Suffered the way I suffered – Ziio, too. I can find more Assassins. Yes! I will help you build a brotherhood like no other."

I glanced at Eva as if to say: No, she truly means this. She exchanged a similar signal with Jack, who cleared his throat.

"Well, thank you for your willingness. I will leave the decision to train you in Eva's hands."

Soyala's eyes sparked like gunpowder. I caught them briefly – and smiled at her. Of course, there was a chance that Eva could refuse...but Soyala seemed adamant. I don't think I'll forget that evening with haste. For the first time, this once-slave was standing up for her rights. I knew she was brave: she'd attempted escape with me once, as well as feigning pregnancy to stay by my side. All her life, she'd been waiting for someone to grant her freedom. Soyala had granted her own.

I – for one – could not grant myself freedom. The fact remained that I was still carrying a child.

It was difficult, watching Soyala train as an Assassin. I desperately wanted to join her, but Eva had refused. She thought it unwise to strain my body before childbirth. Instead I performed domestic duties – but unlike Johnson Hall, I was free to work at my leisure.

Sometimes I would roam in the woods where Soyala trained. I had seen plenty of hunting game there – but had no weapons to catch it with. I missed hunting: the thrill of the shooting, the solitude, the climbing trees...but did I still have a talent for it, after four years? Obviously I could not climb trees, but when Eva finally dished out a bow and arrow from her weapons chest, I began hunting again.

I was not in luck, on the first few occasions. The first time, I was distracted by Eva teaching Soyala how to free run. I did manage to regain my hunting title within the space of a few days. In early April, I caught a doe on the outskirts. George was delighted that evening, walking in from work to the smell of venison stew. It was hardly an elaborate meal, but any fresh meat was good meat. Besides, it reminded me of home.

It was a shame that I thought of home; it'd be years before I could return. Seemingly, Flood had not followed the Stirlings home when they bought us. What did that mean? Had he left? Was I free to roam the town, or was that too dangerous?

"Was Flood interested in this...cave of yours?" Eva asked one day.

"No, he was unaware. But now he is a Templar..."

"Is he likely to care?" Eva finished my question. "Or would he lie to Johnson; say that you are on a plantation where he wants you?"

Goodness. How had she thought of all this? I knew the answer: Flood wouldn't pursue me any further, if I was of no gain to him. So if he was out of the picture...I asked Eva if I could explore Philadelphia a little more.

At this, she put her hands on her hips, wincing. "If you are extremely careful, and not alone. So long as you behave as my slave in public, no Templars will try to kidnap and sell you once more. Non-negro women fetch a high price. I should know."

I didn't know what she meant by I should know, but did not question. In late April, Eva walked with me and Soyala to the market.

Philadelphia was nothing like Boston. Yes, granted they were both large settlements. Notwithstanding, the clamour of Boston's smoky harbour was silent here. The Stirlings lived far from the port; many of the clatters of shipbuilding and cargo did not exist. Instead, the pleasantly placid streets hosted goods from land – not sea. Horse carts holding farmers' produce and hunters' game always rode past. The sent of fresh bread was the nectar of the square.

Soyala had only ever been into town on a slave cart; I remember the thrill in her eyes that first time. Eva clutched her arm (for effect) and showed us around. She pointed out the surgery where George worked, as well as the Anglican church they attended. There was a small schoolhouse next to it; the bells chanted as children came running to its doors.

"When the baby is born, you can send it here. Or I will pay for home tutoring...it is your decision. You are the mother, after all."

I hadn't wanted to think about the child, but now I was here, it didn't seem so unbearable. Perhaps I would learn to love my child in the way I loved you, Ratohnhaké:ton. In fact, I liked the idea of being a mother again. Eva and George promised them a life of financial security...and the fact that Eva was planning school – surely five years ahead – suggested that we'd be staying in Philadelphia for a long time.

But during my pregnancy, the time passed so swiftly that I barely noticed it. The Philadelphian summer struck like frost: it was considerably colder than in Mohawk Valley. Kind-hearted, George gathered new winter clothing for Soyala and me...but I grew so big with child – abnormally big – that I struggled with the number of layers I wore. Eva then took me to a tailor's, which was an unusual experience. It must've looked unusual to the man measuring me, too: a slave in a shop for rich women. Eva was prone to spoiling me.

Much as I trusted the Stirlings, it took me a while to befriend them. I was still enclosed in my hard-set misery; missing my son. Eva coaxed me out of this shell. Living under the same roof meant that we spent a lot of time together. On the evenings she was not chasing Templars, we'd have heartfelt conversations about the Assassins; about family and home. Soon enough, we became very close-knit.

I befriended George not long after. He gave me regular checks with his limited knowledge of midwifery. That July, he pressed his hand to my stomach and half-smiled.

"It may be bad news," he announced.

Suddenly I felt a rush of panic. What did he mean, bad news? Was the child unhealthy? At risk? Due early?

"Judging by the size of you, the baby could..." And he put extra emphasis on could, "Be twins."

With that, Eva purchased extra of all the supplies. I supposed it made up for the fact that Soyala was never really pregnant – but how was I to cope with two children? I shared my concerns with George; he put me at ease very quickly. Being a doctor, reassuring people was one of his strengths. It was him who had offered Eva comfort after her rape.

Evangelina Stirling was born in 1740, to Emmanuel and Grace Waters. She grew up in England with her wealthy parents. Protected by wealth, she was extremely privileged and made many friends at parties. But she was a born cynic; she questioned her father's business as a 'dealer of human cargo'. She never knew exactly what her father dealt, but by now it was obvious. She disapproved of slavery all around her – not that there were many black butlers. Most of the Englishmen's slaves toiled plantations in the West Indies.

When she turned eighteen – almost an adult – her father announced that a business partner of his asked for her hand in marriage. Eva had never met the man...because he lived in Virginia. She was hesitant to agree at first, but who knew? Perhaps there was less injustice in the colonies. It was the start of a new life.

Her parents waved her off from Portsmouth dock. They would be sailing a few weeks later, as her mother was unwell at the time. Eva spent her months at sea wondering about her new fiancé. If he was acquainted with her father, was he a cargo dealer? If he was something different, that was a relief; if he was in the same trade as her father, he could clarify exactly what it was he did.

While on this ship, she met a twenty-four-year-old man. He, too, was sailing for America: returning home from visiting his English parents. He was in training to become a doctor, having injured his knee under His Majesty's service. Of course, it was a certain George Stirling. He was acquainted with Eva's fiancé, Xavier McPhearson (one of his recent patients). While George treated him, Xavier invited him to a dinner gathering on the fifth of May to celebrate his engagement.

"I thought what a coincidence it was, meeting someone who knew Xavier," Eva added fondly.

When the ship docked in Virginia, Eva was greeted by Xavier's butler. He rode her through the square – and past a mass slave market. Eva was horrified by the sheer number of helpless female faces, wondering why anyone had the nerve to enslave them. It was an early warning bell to her future.

Xavier seemed decent enough. A good twelve years older than Eva, he greeted her with a bow before kissing her hand. His house (as Eva remembered) was more of a mansion than a homestead. He led her inside, showed her around, offered her a glass of champagne...and she began to relax. She would be happy here. She couldn't say she loved Xavier; she'd just met him...but she was sure she could adapt.

Her mind would soon change at the engagement party.

Eva recognised George, among the wealthy guests. They sat around the table and sipped champagne, while Xavier gave a speech about his bride-to-be. He'd had some time to get to know Eva – and he'd asked her many questions about herself. Revealing a little too much, Eva recoiled in embarrassment as Xavier shared her childhood memories. She laughed in the right places; kissed Xavier when she deemed it appropriate. But something was wrong.

After dinner, Xavier announced that he was to take Eva upstairs to "get to know her better". George looked up at this – alarmed – but Eva ignored his early warning sign. Baffled, she followed Xavier into his chambers.

That was when he started on her.

Eva only realised it too late. She squirmed to be free from Xavier's grip, but was too weak. She tried to scream. He covered her mouth. She kicked out in fright...but ultimately, she was powerless.

"Hey!"

Suddenly, Xavier released her: someone had entered the room. Through a veil of her own tears, Eva saw him rise to the sound of...George?

"What are you doing in my quarters?" Xavier slurred angrily.

George paced further into the room. He eyed Eva knowingly – a terrified wreck – and rounded on Xavier. "I might ask you the same. I saw the way you were looking at her, Xavier. And it was not the look of love. Now, let her go before I inform someone."

Xavier laughed drunkenly, swaggering towards George. Brave though Stirling was, he was no match for this monster of a man. Xavier taunted the unexpected visitor...then drew a sword from his belt (which lay on the floor). George's eyes flashed in fear. He was unarmed, but he couldn't let Eva stay with this bastard. Backing him against the wall, Xavier held the blade to George's throat.

"Make a sound," he growled, "and I vow to leave you in pieces. You understand?"

"Guards!" George called vainly. "Guards!"

Xavier struck him over the head, digging the blade into his throat slightly. As George gave a stifled yelp, Eva had an idea...

Getting up and straightening her skirts, she scanned the room. There had to be something heavy in here. Anything! She couldn't let her saviour die. Then she found it: the globe.

With difficulty, Eva crept to it and picked up the heavy trinket. George's pupils dilated in relief when he saw her. They could escape this mess! But he kept a struggling faec, just to convince his attacker. One, two, three...Eva struck Xavier's skull. Hard.

She dropped the globe in shock, as he fell. She'd just killed someone...or was he dead? His lips were still moving; gasping for breath...

No time to check. George grabbed her by the wrist, yelling: "We need to leave. Quickly."

And they did. Just as the guards came storming through the front door, George hauled a shaken Eva onto his cart and whipped the horses into gallop. Eva never found out if Xavier died that day. George led her to the safety of his drawing room, covering her in warm blankets as she trembled.

"Hush," he soothed her. "You're safe now. And I shan't ever send you back there again."

And that was how the Stirlings met.

I found it touching that George risked his reputation - and life - for a woman he barely knew. He was no Assassin; no fighter. But he was braver than most men. Certainly more so than Eva's father Emmanuel, who abruptly stopped writing to her when she married George.

"Such disrespect," Soyala said. "What did you ever do to him?"

"The sad truth is," Eva explained, "that women who are assaulted receive no pity. Quite the opposite: they are blamed for their attackers' remorseless actions. You see why I sympathised with you at that market stall? I despised seeing you treated as vermin...as I was."

"You are far from vermin," George reassured, kissing his wife's cheek. "You had the courage to act when I was in danger. That in itself is more than most would do."

Eva stared bleakly into the wall. "I was preventing a kill...that's only human."

"I've seen many humans," Soyala reassured. "Most of them were dishonest; they watched my mother die in childbirth, for example. Most were trouble."

I turned. In all these years I had known Soyala, she'd never told me this. Her mother had been left to die in labour? I thought I knew her as the optimistic child – but now she was a mystery. In fact, I admired her. Since her training, Soyala's body hadn't matured alone: her mind had, too. Now I was below her, lingered by my pregnancy.

It withheld me emotionally, too. I was often sad before you were born, Ratohnhaké:ton: the child of a man I (still) loved, and was learning to hate. But this was different. This was agonising.

But the ninth of October 1764 changed my life.

George was at work, and Eva was running an errand. While washing up dishes in the kitchen, the waters broke. I collapsed into a fit of stabs to the stomach. Soyala panicked as I fell – which did not help matters.

"What should I do?" she cried over me (keeled over).

"Upstairs..." I struggled. "Chambers..."

I didn't notice her carrying me, with the pain I was in. Looking back, I admired her uncanny strength at fifteen. How she changed in those six months. Not that her physical apt stopped her panic. She carried me into her bedroom instead of mine (as it was closer). Laying me down on her bed, she rushed around for a towel.

"George will be home soon," she promised, with less faith in the statement than I had. It was mid-morning and George was not usually home until six...sometimes later. What if I bore the child before then? Soyala was hardly a suitable midwife.

True, when I had you, Ratohnhaké:ton, the midwife was Nitika. Such training does not happen in the village. Do you remember when I helped a woman give birth in 1759? I doubt that you will – you were just three years old, after all.

But this was different. When would Eva come home? She could fetch a midwife, and George. For now I'd have to cope with the pain. But Soyala's hopefulness; her reassurances such as: "It is alright. You will be alright. Help will come soon," became annoying. They weren't reassuring at all. I had to rest. I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't ready to have these children. I didn't want them in the first place. How could I ever want them? Why did I think I'd love them, all those months ago?

Eva came home soon enough. She rushed back into town, fetching George and an irritatingly upbeat midwife. While this woman did not judge me for being a slave, she did treat me as something inferior.

By mid-afternoon, I had four people leaning by Soyala's bed, telling me to stay strong. In truth, I'd never felt weaker.

The sky grew dark, and I restless. Only the midwife and George remained, now. They said I was nearly there. They said it'd be over in minutes. All I had to do was focus.

"Focus on someone you love," the midwife suggested.

Ratohnhaké:ton, I thought. Think of Ratohnhaké:ton. Do this for him.

I wondered if he'd ever meet his brothers, or sisters...

Ratohnhaké:ton...

I wondered if my mother was still alive. Would she meet her two new grandchildren? Would Koshisigre, my best friend? Nitika?

Haytham...

What? No, I couldn't distract myself with that now. I had to focus. Focus.

"Almost there, Ziio," breathed George. "You've done well."

Haytham...

Would he ever meet these children? And if he did, would it be in good circumstances? Would they ever consider him father?

No. Focus.

Just ten minutes later, it was done. The three seasons of pain; of anguish, was over. Aaron was born first – Ohitekah – then Alexa (Imala). I had chosen the names long before this day. In fact, I considered them in place of Ratohnhaké:ton in 1756. But here they were. What a journey they'd been on already, without even being alive.

George and the midwife wrapped them up and left me with them. As the moonshine glowed on their minute faces, I knew I could never hate them. Already, Ohitekah had a tuft of black hair; Imala had very little. Both were, in every way, beautiful. They were my children...and nothing else. How blessed I was to receive them. Two tokens of hope; two angels for me to cherish.

This feeling that seeped through me, nothing compared. It was like a medicine, healing the past four years of pain...everything would be alright. Soyala's words were true. Yet here I was alone, in a town where I did not belong, in a bed I did not belong in, a nightgown I didn't own. But I couldn't be less lonely. I was fulfilled.

Two little hearts were beating with mine. I had not wanted this gift. But now I had the twins, I vowed I would never let them go.

This was the first step to contentment.

Hi guys!

I don't think I ever said, but I was on a music course last week with no wifi, so I apologise for the time it took me to update! I hope anyone in the Northern Hemisphere has had a good summer. If not, stay warm! I'm back to school on the 3rd...urgh...

Anyway, Everbound is officially a year old! (Haha how awful is that, I still haven't finished this story which I suspected would only take like 6 months! But then, that was before the concept of Aaron and Alexa popped up.) Anyway, I'll update sooner next time.

Thanks for all the support as ever! Thanks for sticking with me through 12 months, 365 days, a year 52 weeks...and 2 new AC games (in which most of the fandom has moved on lol). Love you all!

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