Catherine moved swiftly through the bustling market of Boston, weaving her way through the throngs of distracted patrons. She kept her head low, her focus on her task. Her first priority was to speak to the captain of the Boston Garrison.

She needed to track down her mother's effects. Her first stop had been Samuel Adams, but he said no such letter had been found on her mother's person. Rose Cormac had been returned in a pine box, ready for burial.

A trial was forthcoming for Captain Preston and his role in the Massacre, but the young Irish lass knew that it wasn't entirely his fault. She understood that he hadn't given the order; in fact, he had demanded his men stop firing.

So much had happened that day, and she still remembered every sound and smell. The Boston Commons, where the majority of the redcoat soldiers were encamped, was where she knew she could begin her search. She asked the sentries guarding the entrance about Captain Preston, and they pointed her toward a cluster of tents near the center of the Commons.

Tracking through the mud of the Commons, she felt it cling to her boots. The stench of manure, heavy in the air, was nauseating. Finding the tent she was looking for; she saw its flap slightly ajar. Inside, she glimpsed Captain Thomas Preston seated at a makeshift desk, his face pale and drawn as he reviewed a letter. Papers were strewn across the table; she had heard he had been tied down with administrative paperwork, stripped of command but allowed to keep his commission as Captain.

It worried her that she might also be affected, that an arrest warrant might still be issued against her. However, it appeared that due to public outrage, all victims of the Massacre had been pardoned.

Preston glanced up as Catherine entered, his eyes narrowing at the unexpected visitor. "Who are you?" he asked, though there was no anger in his voice, only exhaustion. In his eyes she can see that the nightmare plague him too

Catherine took a breath, her voice firm despite the nervous flutter in her chest. "My name is Catherine Cormac, Captain. My mother was Rose Cormac... one of those killed that night."

Preston's expression shifted, a flicker of recognition mingling with sorrow and guilt. "Cormac..." he murmured, as if testing the name on his tongue. His eyes met hers, and she saw the weight of that night reflected in his gaze. "I am... truly sorry for your loss. It was not supposed to happen that way."

This man was haunted with guilt.
Catherine clenched her fists, holding back the tears that threatened to surface. "I'm not here for apologies, Captain. I need to know about my mother's belongings. A letter,something important that she was carrying."

Preston looked pained as he rubbed his temple, the memories of that night clearly tormenting him. "There was... chaos. I didn't personally handle the dead or their belongings. But... there was a man, a gentleman, not a soldier, who seemed to have an hand in certain things. He had some sway amongst the men like he was... important. He took something, a letter, I believe. I couldn't stop him."

Catherine's heart sank. "Who was he?"

Preston hesitated, his brows furrowing as he recalled. "I don't know his name, but he was dressed well, commanding, like someone who doesn't take orders but gives them. He seemed familiar with the city and our men, though not in uniform. I later found out he was called Haytham Kenway."

A basket hung from her arm, filled with sweet rolls and raisin bread, a peace offering for James, whom she hadn't seen since that awkward evening weeks ago.

As she approached the blacksmith's shop, she spotted the old sign with a faded horseshoe, confirming she was in the right place. Master Mack, an older man with a grizzled beard, was busy instructing James on a technique over the glowing forge. Catherine hovered quietly, not wanting to interrupt, but Mack was quick to notice her.

"Lad, you've got a visitor," he announced with a grin. "A very charming visitor."

Catherine blushed, stepping forward. "It's alright, Master Mack. I just came to drop this off for James," she said, placing the basket on the counter. "But it's for both of you."

James wiped the sweat from his brow, taken aback by her sudden appearance. "What are you doing here, Catherine?"

She smiled sheepishly. "I wanted to thank you for putting my ad in the Boston Gazette." She p out the paper and pointed to her ad near the bottom. "I'm hoping to hear something by the end of the week."

There was a pause, filled with unspoken words between them. Mack, sensing the tension, cleared his throat. "Tell me, Catherine, when are you going to open the old tavern again?"

Catherine's face brightened. "I'm doing a test run tomorrow. I'll be cleaning and restocking today."

The old blacksmith beamed. "Good to hear. James and I will be your first customers."

Catherine nodded, feeling a warmth that had been missing since her mother's passing. "Thanks. I'll see you both there."

James wanted to say something, but his words caught in his throat, his cheeks turning red. The simple exchange reminded them of what they had lost, and what little hope they still clung to.

The air hung heavy with unspoken tension and lingering embarrassment. Catherine glanced at James, her expression softening despite the sting of rejection that still lingered. "Master Mack, may I have a moment to speak with James?"

James, still stung from his bruised pride, clenched his jaw. "No, Catherine. We have work," he said curtly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Catherine paused, the rejection hitting her harder than she expected. She forced a small smile. "It's fine. I hope to see you then." As she turned to leave, she hesitated and glanced back at James. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, James."

Without waiting for a response, she left, her footsteps echoing in the quiet. James watched her go, guilt twisting in his stomach. He was pulled from his thoughts by a sharp slap to the back of his head from Master Mack's heavy glove.

"Boy, you're a fool, trapping a young girl like that," Mack chided.

James winced, rubbing the back of his head. "Trapping? I didn't trap her!"

"You did when you proposed to her right after her mother died. She doesn't need a husband right now, lad. She needs a friend." Mack's tone softened. "I don't ever see you two getting married anytime soon. You're more like siblings than anything else. It might happen one day, but not now."

James fell silent, mulling over his mentor's words. Maybe he had been stubborn, pushing his feelings when she needed something entirely different.

Thomas Hickey stood nearby, a sly smile playing on his lips as he eavesdropped on the conversation. He had been watching Catherine for a time now, as a favor to the big boss himself, Haytham Kenway.

His task was simple, keep tabs on her, observing her every move. So far, she seemed like a decent enough kid, struggling to find her place amidst the chaos surrounding the Boston market. Hickey couldn't help but find it amusing as he watched her haggle with traders, securing necessities. She had even been seen giving bread to the street urchins, an act of kindness that was rare. It was a pity about her mother, but despite her troubles, Hickey amused about the one occasion he met Mrs. Cormac, Shay knew how to pick a woman. Flaming red locks, hell of an attitude, and a fighter. Hickey honestly thought back he had been thankful at the time that Rose Cormac had joined their side.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps behind him broke Hickey's focus. His grin widened when he recognized the figure approaching. "Well, if it isn't a delightful surprise," he greeted, turning to face the woman now standing beside him.

"Hello, Thomas," Azura Edgar responded coolly. Her mere presence commanded attention. With her raven-black hair and bright brown eyes, she was striking. Every movement she made was fluid, concealing the sharp wit and sharper tongue that defined her.

"And what's the reason you've summoned me?" she asked, arms crossed, her tone clearly indicating impatience.

Hickey pulled a folded copy of the Boston Gazette from his coat and waved it teasingly in front of her. Azura snatched it from his hand, irritation flaring in her expression. "We're doing well, but I need you, Zuzu."

"I've told you not to call me that," Azura snapped. "I have my own work to deal with, Thomas. I don't need to be going undercover for you."

Hickey chuckled, unfazed, as they followed Catherine from a distance through the market's crowded stalls. "And yet, you do it so marvelously. Especially when you're taking care of me," he quipped, flashing a grin.

Azura rolled her eyes but kept pace with him, her gaze fixed on the girl ahead. "Just make sure to keep an eye on her. We don't need her slipping away again." Thomas instructed as he pointed at the Irish teenager.

Hickey and Azura shared a long history. About ten years had passed since they first crossed paths. Had met Azura when she'd arrived from the East. . After losing touch for a while, fate had brought them back together, and they had since formed a partnership, one that was both professional and occasionally personal, much to Azura's regret. She was skilled in espionage, feeding Hickey information from her time spent in taverns, all while keeping the Templars informed.

Hickey smirked as he wiped his nose, watching Catherine ahead of them. "Looks like you'll get a chance to work your charm again, Zuzu."

Azura shot him a cold glare. "I told you not to call me that. This is business, nothing more."

Hickey shrugged, clearly unbothered. "We've shared more than just business, you know."

Azura narrowed her eyes at him, but her voice remained steady. "Those nights I choose to forget, Thomas. Now focus on the job."

"That's because we have to work together, and those nights are ones I'd rather forget," Azura said, walking ahead of Thomas to get a better view of the girl. "She's so young to be involved with the Templars. Who is she?"

"She's the only daughter of good ole' Shay Cormac," Hickey replied casually.

"The Assassin Hunter? Rose Cormac's child? How is Rose?."

"Dead. Just passed away, leaving her all alone. Cormac kept her hidden to protect her, in case the Assassins ever came after her. We're worried she might have some connection to assassins," Hickey said, casting a glance at Azura, then back at Catherine.
"I thought they were all gone,"
"We aren't sure."

"I can keep a closer eye on her," Azura read the ad in the news paper about the help wanted for the inn that belong to the girl. Azura's expression tightened as she watched the girl from a distance. "Keep an eye on her. I need time to prepare for my role in all this."

Hickey gave her a wink. "If you need help, just give me a holler. By the way, blue looks stunning on ya." He smirked and playfully slapped her behind.

Hickey quickly ducked as a fist swung through the air, narrowly missing his head. He took several steps back, laughing as he watched Azura fuming, her cheeks flushed with anger.

"Do that again, you drunk bastard, and I'll aim for a place where the sun doesn't shine!" she shouted after him, though a small smile tugged at her lips. Turning to head home, she muttered under her breath, "One day, Thomas..."

Hickey chuckled to himself as he watched her leave, still amused.

Catherine paused in front of a stall filled with cages. Birds, likely trapped in the frontier, chirped and fluttered within the enclosures. She didn't fully understand Catherine's attention was drawn to one in particular, a sickly sharp-shined hawk, its once-proud feathers now dull, its eyes glazed with fatigue.

The vendor, a grubby man who smelled of filth and stale ale, had noticed her interest. "That one won't last long," he sneered. "A day, maybe two, and it's done."

Catherine's expression twisted with disgust. "Do you ever let these birds out?"

The man shook his head. "Not much point. That one's almost gone."

"How much?" Catherine asked, her voice resolute.

"You wanna buy it?" the man scoffed. "Five shillings."

Catherine's eyes widened in disbelief. "Five?! That's robbery! I'll give you two , the poor thing's on its deathbed."

The vendor grumbled, clearly irritated by her haggling, but after a few moments of thought, he relented. "Fine. Two."

Catherine pulled out her coin purse and handed over the coins, the last of her money, determined to save the hawk. The vendor, muttering under his breath, pocketed the money and turned away. Instead of taking the cage, Catherine gently opened the cage door, allowing the frail bird to jump out. The hawk flapped its wings weakly but could only manage a few steps before hobbling, its strength clearly spent.

Catherine's heart broke for the small creature. Without hesitation, she knelt and carefully scooped it into her arms, wrapping it in her shawl. The bird was too weak to fly, and its fragile state weighed heavily on her.

As Catherine began her walk back home, she was unaware that Hickey and Azura were following her and devising a plan.
-

Later that morning, Catherine rested her chin on the table in exhaustion after scrubbing the tavern floor. She had taken a brief break from cleaning to check on her new friend, Aries. The hawk was thrilled to be out of his cage and away from the cruel merchant. He eagerly devoured fresh meat from the mice traps his former owner had gathered. Catherine didn't mind the sight or smell of her new companion's meal.

The door creaked open, prompting Catherine to glance up from the bar.

"Is this the Snowdrop Tavern? I'm here regarding your advertisement."

A slender woman with dark hair stepped into the center of the tavern.

Catherine quickly glanced up as she gently petted Aries. "Aye, it is."

The newcomer smiled, holding the newspaper. "Finally, a job! I need it to help my elderly parents, who can't work and are struggling with taxes."

Catherine sighed. "We all need extra funds these days... My mother said hard times were coming."

"Is that who I need to speak to?" the woman asked, looking around for the older woman who had once been in charge.

"No, just me," Catherine replied. She straightened up, trying to appear older than she was. "My mother passed a while back. I'm in charge of this place now."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Miss," the woman said, glancing down at the floor. "I—I didn't mean to bring up such wretched things. If you'd prefer, I can come back tomorrow."

"Absolutely not. It's alright," Catherine said, holding up a hand to stop her. "I'm in need of help—and fast."

A smile broke across the woman's face as she gave a polite curtsy. "My name is Azura Edgar."

Catherine extended her hand. "Catherine Cormac. I've never heard a name like that before."

Azura nodded. "Yes, my mother chose it. My grandfather was Persian, and she wanted to give me a name that would remind him of her."

Catherine smiled. "Your name is so unique. I wish my mother had been more imaginative instead of naming me after my father's aunt, though she was named after a saint."

"It's honorable to be named after a loved one," Azura replied with a warm smile. "I assume that would be Saint Catherine of Alexandria?"

Catherine's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Not many people recognize the saints, especially here in the colonies. We aren't even practicing Catholic."

"People are often blind to their differences and can't seem to agree on how to worship God in a single way," Azura said thoughtfully. "But it makes sense why your mother would name you after her. Saint Catherine was an intelligent woman, renowned for both her wisdom and beauty. She converted thousands to Christianity but was ultimately martyred—beheaded for refusing to kneel to a tyrant."

Catherine blinked in awe. "I'm impressed. I didn't even know that."

Azura smiled. "Shall we discuss things over a drink?"

"Aye. I can start some tea upstairs in the apartment."

As Catherine turned to lead the way, her boots made a soft clicking sound against the wooden floor. She extended her arm for Aries, who hopped onto it without hesitation. His sharp talons dug into her skin, leaving half-moon divots in her flesh. It was clear she hadn't yet figured out how to handle him without hurting herself.

It was almost amusing to see her expression shift from blank to pained. "Miss Cormac? Are you alright?"

"Aye, I am." She winced when the hawk dug his talons deeper into her sleeve. "I just haven't had a chance to figure out how to carry Aries around… I recused him a few days ago from horrid of a man."

Azura's eyes sparkled with amusement. "May I suggest investing in a leather gauntlet or a glove? If you carry him like that, you're pretty arm will be covered in scars."

Catherine felt sheepish for not having thought of that. "Right, probably a better idea."

The two of them made their way up to the apartment.

Catherine let Aries perch himself on a chair in the corner to nestle his feathers, allowing her to make tea for them. Azura stared down at the dining table where Catherine had set them. It was easy to get on Catherine's good side, but it almost made her feel guilty to see the young girl alone in the inn. With her mother gone and her father absent from her life, it was almost heartbreaking to know her story.

Azura had met Captain Cormac in passing once and could see that Catherine had the same fire in her eyes that she shared with her father. Some said her red hair resembled her mother's, but she looked more like her father, with a delicate jawline and thin lips. The light freckles sprinkled across her skin were a clear gift from her mother. Azura understood that her task was to watch over and guide this girl.

After pouring Azura a cup of tea, Catherine folded her nimble fingers in her lap as she took a seat across from her. "Tell me about yourself. You'll probably be hired, but I just want to know what experience you have at running an Inn…I will be gone in a few days."

Azura concealed her shock behind a calm expression, grateful she'd arrived sooner than planned. She would definitely make a note to recount everything she was learning. "Where did you say you're headed?" she asked, her voice casual but her eyes sharp.

Catherine shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Azura's gaze. "Far away... I just need some space."

"New York, perhaps?" Azura asked, her tone light but probing, watching Catherine closely for any tell.

Catherine hesitated, her fingers nervously picking at her nails. "No, more north."

"North? Interesting." Azura tilted her head slightly, sensing the crack in the girl's story. "Quebec, maybe?" She raised an eyebrow, trying to push a little further without being too direct.

Catherine's eyes flickered with something close to panic before she quickly masked it with indifference. "I'd rather not get into the details."

Azura gave a slow, understanding nod, though her curiosity was now piqued. "Of course, I understand. Everyone needs a little escape sometimes."
"I will come back once in awhile to check on things, I will give information of anyone who may want to contact me."

Azura smiled as she recounted her story. "I was born and raised in Lexington with my brothers. My mother worked as a cook for a family, and my father helped with farming when the seasons allowed. We moved here about twenty years ago when he found work at the lumber mill nearby. I've had my fair share of experience dealing with drunken lads from my time working at a inn. Things were easy enough until a couple of men thought they could take liberties."

She grinned, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Bastards didn't know what hit 'em when I slugged them in the jaw. But I've got more than just a strong right hook. I can read, write, and do basic arithmetic. Negotiation was always my strong suit, so if you show me your books and list of traders and vendors you use, I can get this place running as well as assist with may with a staff to help."

Catherine had already made up her mind to hire Azura when she walked in. For some unknown reason, no one else had come to apply. " When can you start? Friday and Saturday are my busiest nights, and sometimes Sundays. I can pay you well."

"I'll start when you need me sweet girl," Azura replied confidently.

"Excellent! Can you start tomorrow?"

"I can and will."

"Perfect."

Azura extended her hand to shake on the deal before taking her leave.

As Catherine felt a sense of relief wash over her, everything seemed to be falling back into place. Then she remembered her task at hand, find that letter. A foul taste settled in her mouth, like biting into a spoiled cupcake, reminding her that dangers still lurked nearby.

The happy cheers of the inn echoed through the walls, blending with the music and singing of the lively crowd. What was once a dust-covered, empty space now felt like home again to young Catherine. Still, a pang of sadness gnawed at her heart as she thought about her mother, Rose, who was no longer there to witness it. Nevertheless, Catherine took pride in restoring the inn to its former shine and liveliness, just as her mother had.

She smiled when she saw James, who had arrived bearing a homemade meal from his mother. Master Mack hadn't been able to attend, busy with a last-minute request due by morning.

The success of the evening wasn't entirely Catherine's doing. Azura had stepped up, handling the drunks with ease, watering down ale when necessary, and even diffusing a brewing bar fight with just a single command. Her presence allowed Catherine to step back and enjoy a few moments with her old friend over food and drink.

"You've outdone yourself," James said, smiling as if nothing had ever come between them.

"Not really," Catherine replied modestly. "I just copied what my mum did. She taught me everything I know. I think the praise comes more because of her passing."

James paused, considering her words before standing abruptly. "Lads! Lasses!" His voice boomed through the inn, quieting the crowd and even halting the music. "It's been a while since many of us have gathered here for a drink. It was a blow to our community when we lost Rose Cormac."

A few men raised their pints in silent tribute to her memory.

"But not all is lost," James continued. "Young Catherine has stepped up, even though her grief, to reopen this inn and carry on her mother's legacy. So, let's raise a glass to Catherine Cormac. May she keep this place running for many more years!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, the music resumed, and Catherine found herself sniffling, moved by James' kind words. It seemed he had moved past the earlier engagement fiasco. She poured herself another drink and took a bite of the meat pie James had brought.

"I'm sorry for the way I overreacted earlier," James said quietly.

Catherine held up her hand to stop him. "It's okay. Let's not mention it again."

"Agreed," James nodded, but the unspoken tension lingered. He glanced at Aries, Catherine's hawk, who was perched on the counter, calmly accepting bits of meat from Catherine's plate. The bird's presence was striking, loyal and protective, almost like a guard dog with sharp talons and a keen eye on whoever neared his mistress.

"You've been keeping some interesting company lately, Cathy," James remarked, his tone casual but curious.

Catherine didn't react, simply feeding another piece of meat to Aries. "It's been an interesting few days..."

After finishing her meal, Catherine noticed that one of the casks was empty. She sighed, realizing she needed to head down to the cellar for a fresh one. She had just received a shipment earlier that day after greeting Azura.

As she prepared to call for Azura's help, her eyes landed on a dark figure in the corner. His hat was pulled low, hiding his face, but she recognized him ….Thomas Hickey. Her blood boiled. The drunken Irishman sat quietly in the back, calling for another drink from Azura. She knew Haytham was serious about watching her.

Catherine's hands clenched the bar rag tightly until her knuckles turned white. James, sensing the shift in her mood, subtly moved his seat back, giving her space. Fury surged through her as she stormed across the room. Azura quickly noticed the change in Catherine's expression, setting her tray down and weaving through the tables to intercept her.

"Catherine, what's wrong?" Azura asked, concern etched on her face.

"I see someone I don't want here," Catherine hissed, her eyes locked on Hickey.

Azura followed her gaze and immediately understood. "I'll handle it. Go downstairs and fetch the cask of ale. Take a break."

Azura was irritated that Thomas had shown up uninvited. He could jeopardize everything if he said the wrong thing to Catherine. She approached him quickly.

Thomas glanced up from his drink, spinning the handle lazily. " 'Ello, sweetheart," he greeted her with his trademark toothy grin. "Care to top me off?" He lifted his pint, but Azura slapped it out of his hand.

"What are you doing here, clown?" she hissed. "You're going to blow everything. Catherine knows who you are."

"Wot? How could she possibly know?" Thomas looked genuinely surprised. "She's not supposed to know about us."

"Well, she does," Azura said, her voice firm. "I'll find out how, but for now, don't go running to Haytham. Let me handle it."

Thomas grumbled but stood up, giving Azura an irritating squeeze on the backside before walking away. She reacted instantly, slapping him across the face, which only made him chuckle as he left the inn.

Catherine was in the cellar, searching for fresh casks of ale. She found them stacked neatly under the stairwell but frowned at the sight. This was always the part she hated…lugging them back upstairs. She hoisted one carefully, lifting it with her knees to avoid hurting her back.

Just as she steadied herself, a voice called out from the shadows, startling her. "Catherine?"

She shrieked, dropping the cask, which cracked open, spilling ale across the floor. Frustration surged through her until she turned and saw the figure.

It was Connor, sitting quietly in the corner, as if he had fallen asleep.