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The Last Days of Lucien Lachance	By : pirouette Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Oblivion Views: 3475 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I neither own nor am affiliated with Bethesda/TES: Oblivion. I'm also not making any money from this fic.

Chapter List
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Chapter 3: The Purification

I managed to keep myself away from Caleigh for several weeks after accidentally falling asleep at her house, though most of that was caused by external forces rather than me actually coming to my senses. I made a point to let myself unwind a little and actually took care of a contract myself. It was too intriguing a situation to pass up, really: a client contacted us and asked us to fake his death. I explained to him the simple rule that Sithis demands blood, he instantly forfeited his mother's life to spare his own. I've had more than a bit of practice ending the lives of people's parents--mothers in particular--so decided to handle that one myself rather than delegate the job to anyone else. Once the mother's blood debt was paid, Caleigh staged the man's death. I personally thought it was a waste of her skills, but Vicente adamantly refused to send anyone else, insisting that she was the only one of our Brothers or Sisters who could handle the job properly. After some serious thought about just who was in my employ at the Sanctuary, I was forced to agree with him.

Soon after that contract, Ocheeva decided to take over Caleigh's assignments directly. I was secretly pleased at her interest: though she was friendly, she usually tended to ignore new recruits. It was clear that my recruit was proving her worth. I was kept updated on Caleigh's progress, and hearing the details of her contracts lessened the pain of our last meeting somehow. Eventually I convinced myself that it was understandable--it was only a dream, a nightmare. It meant nothing.

Just when I was thinking of visiting her again, news arrived that another murder of a Brother had occurred, and the Black Hand met in secret to discuss our options. Our meetings were always conducted in the most dramatic fashion possible--we all appeared at a ruin in the dead of night, swathed in our robes, carrying torches in our hands and chips on our shoulders. The meeting wasn't a pleasant one, though as a rule they never were. A Bosmer, an Altmer, an Imperial, a Khajit, and a Breton were rarely able to come to a consensus easily. Sometimes I wondered if the Night Mother had selected this combination as the Black Hand for her own amusement.

The minutes crawled by. Ungolim, our Listener, would only mutter that the Night Mother was unusually silent on the matter, and the other Speakers were so nervous about being labeled the traitors themselves that they did little but stutter their innocence. Eventually--no, inevitably--accusations began to fly.

"The traitor must be in your Sanctuary, Lachance!" Mathieu Bellamont snarled, and all other side-conversations ceased.

"What makes you say that?" I asked calmly, which seemed to reassure the other Speakers somewhat. They had known me for years, while Bellamont had been promoted to the position quite recently.

"All the Brothers and Sisters who've been murdered have some connection with your building! Either they visited there, were recruited there, or were raised there!" His eyes glinted with a fervor I did not like.

"You lived there yourself, Bellamont," I retorted, and his shoulders jerked angrily. "Who would you name as the traitor?"

J'Ghasta's gravelly cat's voice sounded for the first time since his arrival. "What of the new girl? The Bosmer?"

Arquen shook her head emphatically. A strand of her pale blonde hair fell loose from her cowl and caught the torchlight. "She is too new. The first of the murders occurred long before Lucien recruited her into the Brotherhood."

His tail swished back and forth angrily within his robes, but he did not reply.

"Talking about this is going to solve nothing, Brothers and Sisters," Ungolim snapped. I often privately mused at the irony of his position as Listener--he was notoriously bad at it during meetings.

"Then what do you suggest we do, Ungolim?" Arquen asked, forcing her hands to remain unclenched and restful at her sides. J'Ghasta grinned toothily at Mathieu, who was muttering something under his breath.

"Allow me to make a suggestion," I cut in, "if Ungolim does not mind." He nodded curtly at me, so I continued.

"The Sanctuary must be Purified. If it is indeed my Sanctuary housing the traitor, which it seems to be, repeated meetings such as this one shall only make him or her suspicious. Ungolim is right when he says we can't keep talking about this."

Arquen shook her head sadly. "You're always so final, Lucien. Such a waste of a talented new recruit!"

"No. She will be the one performing the cleansing."

They all stared at me then, faces displaying a range of emotion from shock to dismay to flattened ears. I forced my own face to remain expressionless and tried to ignore the fact that I'd considered killing Caleigh myself not too long ago.

"Who better to perform the task?" I continued. "I am never at my Sanctuary. If I arrive at an opportune time for a cleansing the loyal will worry, and the traitor's suspicions will be aroused."

Ungolim and Arquen were nodding, but Mathieu and J'Ghasta seemed unconvinced. "Will she even do it?" J'Ghasta asked, frowning at me.

I nodded, though I had my doubts. Caleigh was clearly fitting in nicely at the Sanctuary, and for someone as lonely as she obviously was to agree to murder the members of her new family? It was unlikely, to say the least.

"We are placing a great deal of trust in a stranger, a nobody! Lachance should perform the task himself!" Mathieu snarled, but the other members of the Hand were shaking their heads.

"You are new, Mathieu, and so you do not realize..." Arquen looked at me, trailing off delicately. "Lucien, I've heard rumors about the last traitor you dealt with, the Brother you caught stealing from M'raaj-Dar. How much of him was left once you were sated?"

"Not enough to place him as recently human," I replied, smiling toothily. Now that had been a night of retribution! "Sithis takes the Tenets seriously, and so should we."

"Ah. Quite," Mathieu stuttered, face flushed. J'Ghasta chuckled at him.

"Indeed," she continued. "And since I assume we wish the Sanctuary to still be usable after the Purification...?"

There was an awkward silence. Arquen was good at making me feel unbalanced.

"Yes, using Caleigh seems to be the best course," Ungolim said at last. "Lucien, we leave the rest in your hands. We'll be sure and send any recruits your way over the next few months to get you back on your feet."

"I would like nothing better than to babysit a bevy of amateurs," I muttered, and Ungolim laughed at me.

"So make your beloved recruit do it!" purred J'Ghasta. "You will need a new Silencer, anyway."

And with that they filed away one after the other into the gloom of the forest, leaving me alone with my reservations and my horse. She stamped at the ground impatiently, clearly wondering why we were still standing there.
"I'd think after all this time you'd have learned some patience, Shadowmere," I muttered, swinging back into the saddle and preparing for the long trip back to Cheydinhal. Ungolim never wanted to stray far from Bravil when we had those little meetings, so I was always left spending far too much time in transit. Knowing my luck, it would be light when I arrived at Cheydinhal. But, I thought at the time, it would at least give me plenty of opportunity to plan. And J'Ghasta had much farther to travel, which amused me greatly. I often wondered how many more times Ungolim would be able to summon him from Bruma before he lost all patience.
I stopped into the Sanctuary the next morning and roused Ocheeva, telling her that I had a request of the new recruit and handing her a sealed letter. Ocheeva was trustworthy, and it would be a shame to lose her--I knew the letter would reach Caleigh unopened. The Argonian had been my Silencer for years now, and I'd never had any problems leaving her in charge, so I felt a pang of guilt at the concern that flickered across her face when I told her the Black Hand had a last-minute contract that Caleigh's talents would be most suited for. The poor girl probably thought she was being replaced.

The next few hours were torture. I had doubts that Caleigh would come at all, and if she did? Well, then the real problems would begin. I'd been reviewing the situation incessantly in my head, but still could find no angle that would convince Caleigh to do my bidding. And even if she did agree, I was afraid she'd no longer feel whatever it was that made her so comfortable with me. Even after how poorly our last meeting ended for me, I am sad to say that at the time, keeping her was more important to me than finding the traitor.

The Fort seemed emptier and yet more full of echoes than usual that night. I kept expecting sounds of battle, assuming she would enter through the front doors and be forced to fight her way through my Dark Guardians. Instead, I heard the sound of my personal entrance being picked into just as I was about to give up on my alchemy and go to sleep. She sprang down the trapdoor ladder nimbly, hitting the ground in a stealthy crouch. When she saw me she stood and approached, looking idly around the room. She did not appear to be impressed with my living situation, and I could not blame her. It was less comfortable than the Sanctuary, and compared to her home might as well have been a hovel. I'd never gotten around to relocating that crypt against the back wall, either, which did little to improve the ambiance. I should have at least put the lid on it before summoning her.

It was the first time I'd seen her in her assassin's leathers. The thick material hugging her hips, the glint of the blade at her waist, how the hood shrouded her face in shadows--perfect, all of it. That is the image of her I want to carry into the afterlife. I was so taken with her that we ended up standing in silence for almost a full minute before I realized that we had not yet greeted one another.

"We have not spoken in some time," I began, but she held her fingers to my mouth to silence me.

"You stopped visiting." The words were curt, accompanied by an angry glare. "Why?"

"I've been busy trying to keep my people from being murdered," I snapped.

"I thought I'd done something wrong!"

"You talk in your sleep."

She wilted into a chair and stared up at me forlornly. "Fine. What do you want, Brother?" The last word was saturated with bitterness.

"I need your help. There's a traitor in the Sanctuary."

"I doubt I need to guess how you deal with traitors."

"What would you have me do, Caleigh?" The words sounded angrier than I intended. Maybe I was still harboring a latent desire to end her life.

"Make someone else do it." Her voice sounded choked.

"There's no one else I trust enough to do this, my dear." It bothered me then that she'd likely never know just how honest I was being.

She rose and moved to stand before me. "Alright." Her face was completely blank.

"I'm afraid there is a situation," I started, but she covered my mouth with her fingers again. "Mmmph--Caleigh, will you stop doing that?"

"No. I don't want to hear you say it, not yet." Her fingers slid to my cheek, into my hair. "Before you do..." Her lips pressed against mine gently, and I found my eyes falling shut as I was overcome by pleasant sensation. There was something about the feel of her lips, backed this time by a possessive need I'd not felt in her before, that made me completely incapable of higher thought.

The kiss broke, eventually, and she rested her head against my shoulder. "Please don't leave me alone again. You're all I have, and after tonight that really will be your fault."

It took several minutes for the tight, hot feeling in my chest and stomach to subside after those words were spoken to me. I didn't answer, but I did tilt her head up for another kiss. It was enough for her, thankfully. I think she knew I'd never be able to say anything aloud. I'm just not built for it.

She slid my cowl off, confidently this time, and started planting tiny little kisses on my lips and forehead, so gentle they almost tickled. I tried to hold her still and get at her neck, but she slapped me hard across the cheek and took a step away. For one moment I almost drew my blade, but I forced my hand to rise to soothe my struck flesh instead of clenching round the hilt of my dagger. Her hand slid over mine and brought it back down to my side. Once there, she grabbed me by the wrists and held my hands still. I was about to protest when her mouth met mine again. Soon her tongue was sliding along my neck, making me hiss with pleasure as it skipped over sensitive spots I was used to seeking on her.

Once she was sure I was going to remain motionless she released my hands and began to undress me with practiced motions. I wanted to reach for her cowl or the buckles of her armor, but one warning look from her told me I'd be smacked again. I wanted to keep that from happening while those gauntlets were still on her. Only when I was completely naked, standing before her in the flickering firelight, did she tell me I could move again. I reached for her hood cautiously, and she let me slide it off. Now freed, her hair caught the torchlight and seemed golden, making me think briefly of how she'd looked bathed in the light of the ring from the Shivering Isles. The tight feeling in my chest came back, but it wasn't guilt this time.

I worked at the buckles next, removing her armor piece by piece. Her skin seemed almost pure white against the deep color of the leather, and the gloom of my suite. Her eyes watched me expressionlessly as I worked to strip her naked, full of a confidence I'd not yet seen in her. She made me feel like a servant boy. Once she too was naked, she led me over to my threadbare bed and coaxed me to lie down upon it. Every part of me wanted to take her in my arms and bring her back under my control, but I was intrigued by the look in her eyes. After I was flat on my back, she lay down on top of me, skin sliding gently against mine. She was warmer than usual, and for a moment I wondered if she were drunk, but the smell of wine was unusually absent. That night she smelled like the trees and grasses she'd traveled through to visit me, and nothing more.

Her fingers ran over every inch of my skin gently as though she were committing me to memory, saturating my nerves with tiny thrills of sensation. Everywhere her hands went her tongue followed, and soon I was completely overcome by my desire to be inside her. I tried to take her by the hips and flip her over, but she was faster than I and backhanded me again. I growled at her angrily, but remained still.

"It's my turn," she murmured in my ear, nipping at my neck just hard enough to make me feel truly crazy.

"Don't tease me," I gasped. I didn't want her to make me beg. I hadn't felt this vulnerable in years.

"Fine," she whispered, kissing me deeply as she bore down and took me into her. She braced herself on either side of me and began grinding against me at a steady pace. I brought my hands up to her breasts and gently caressed her nipples. When she began to groan, tossing her head and arching her back, the torchlight accentuated her curves. Having her in my room was unreal enough, but to watch her have her way with me was almost more than I could bear. The muscles in her stomach and legs were taut as she worked her way toward her first climax, and I could feel her growing progressively tighter around me as she shifted and angled to obtain the best sensations. I slid my hands down to her hips and held her, feeling her movements, forcing myself to stay relaxed so she could remain in control.

Her pace began to quicken, and she looked down at me with unfocused eyes. "Oh, Lucien..." she whispered. Unthinkingly, I reached up to stroke her cheek, utterly elated to hear her say my name. She nibbled lightly on my thumb before tossing her head back and groaning loudly. Leaning back, she angled me into her just so and came, moaning with such fervor that her voice echoed throughout the room. When the sensation passed for her, she collapsed against me, panting. I slid a hand into her hair and petted her, waiting for her nerves to settle down enough for me to continue.

This time she didn't resist when I moved to flip her over. We traded places on the bed and I pressed her legs together, slinging them over one of my shoulders and pressing them back against her stomach. When I re-entered her, we both groaned happily. She felt deliciously tight, and as I thrust into her, she ground against me in return. Soon we had both worked up a sweat. I tangled my fingers in her hair and ran my thumb against her cheek, stroking her skin and watching her eyes grow more unfocused. When she began to bite her lip, I knew that she was close to coming again. The obnoxious, ever-present commentary in the back of my head was worrying why I enjoyed giving her pleasure. The times when I'd been with Antionetta Marie, I had gone at my own pace, and didn't particularly care if she enjoyed herself or not. But, making Caleigh feel good made me feel good in turn, so I supposed it made sense. Mostly.

I was forced to take that thought back entirely when she came again and celebrated by sinking her teeth into my hand so strongly she drew blood. I considered hitting her, but at the same time I was so happy she'd actually done damage to me that I decided to let it go.

"Did I actually hurt you that time?" she panted, staring at my bloodied palm in mild horror.

"No," I lied, releasing her legs so that she could rest them on either side of me.

She kissed me gently on my injured skin. "Well, maybe it will remind you to visit."

"You-- Caleigh, you do know where I live now." I was out of breath. She felt too good. I wanted to make her come for a third time, but it seemed as though I would not have the stamina.

"What, are you telling me to visit you?" She slid her tongue wantonly along my ear.

"Yes. Yes," I repeated, gasping as she dug her nails into my back just hard enough to send a thrill down my spine. When her hands got to my lower back, she spanked me hard enough to make my skin tingle.

"Finish up," she growled. "I can't follow orders if I'm too sore to walk."

I didn't need to be told twice with nerves as tightly wound as mine were. All that time watching her ride me and all the pent-up anger left over from letting her take control had me on the brink already, so few more thrusts was all it took. She pressed her mouth to mine and held me against her as I came, wrapping her legs around me shamelessly. I collapsed against her, using her chest as a pillow, and she stroked my hair gently as I worked to regain my breath. Silence seeped slowly back into the room, and I found myself drifting on the edge of consciousness again. The steady rise and fall of her chest beneath me indicated that if she were not already sleeping, she soon would be. I knew I should wake her up and send her out now, because she would be more likely to succeed without incident if she went while they were all sleeping. But, I couldn't bear to remind her of what a terrible task I had for her to complete. I roused her just enough to get us more comfortably arranged atop my narrow bed, drew her to me tightly, and let us both fall asleep and pretend things were normal for just a few hours.

When she woke me up just before daybreak the torches illuminating my rooms had gone out, and her face was obscured by the gloom.

"Lucien."

I sat up, still half-asleep, trying to figure out why I wasn't alone. No one had ever awoken beside me here.

"Lucien," she repeated, touching my hand lightly. Her fingers brushed against the teeth marks she had left, and I winced fully into wakefulness.

"Yes?"

"Tell me why you called me here."

"There's a traitor in the Sanctuary," I sighed, running my hands over my face. My eyes did not want to stay open. She had made my bed too warm.

"You want me to kill the traitor?"

"I don't know specifically which of your Brothers or Sisters has betrayed us."

There was a pause. "Is there anyone it absolutely cannot be?" Her voice was softer now.

"Yes."

"Then whom am I sparing?"

"Spare yourself."

Time seemed to slow down as I waited for her to respond. If she said no, she would technically be violating a Tenet, and I would be expected by the rest of the Hand to deal with her in the same way I dealt with all the others. I knew that would be impossible. I liked hurting her, yes, perhaps more than I should considering how much I cared about her well-being, but I wouldn't be able to kill her. Not for refusing me this. Not for anything. I could feel how tense she was beside me. I knew she remembered the rules, and knew what she was risking should she refuse. Still, I wished it would be voluntary. I didn't want to coerce her to do something this monumental. When she left the bed and began to put her armor back on, I feared she had decided to abandon me.

"So, you'll do it, then?" I asked at last, cursing myself for how insecure I sounded.

"Of course." Her voice sounded perfectly normal. "In fact, I think I'll start with M'raaj-Dar." And with that she let herself out, leaving me alone and conflicted. The thought process I've come to refer to since as the Old Lucien wanted to follow her and make sure she was actually obeying and not fleeing town. If she abandoned me now, the Black Hand would lose faith in me. But the New Lucien, the one she was forcing into existence quite against my will, wanted to trust her. Wanted to wait here for her to return, and ask her to relay the tale to me herself, sharing every detail, every glorious moment of her successful slaughter of an entire den of assassins. Both these Luciens were possessed of a healthy curiosity as to which of her brethren would prove the most difficult hit. It would likely be Vicente--he was strong, even for a vampire. Now I look back and chastise myself for not taking into account her resourcefulness.

What surprised me most in talking to her later was how little killing them all seemed to affect her. When I asked her to tell me the stories of their deaths she did so without halting, or even a single hint of remorse. At the time I was glad I had finally broken through to her. Now I regret having done it to her at all. Because I know now that she did do it for me. Not the murders. Those she did for the Brotherhood. But she changed to become capable of committing them for my sake and my sake alone. Which means that if I die tonight, her fall is rendered pointless.

At first we both thought M'raaj-Dar must have been the traitor because he approached her when she returned to the Sanctuary and tried to make amends for the way he had been treating her. I assumed at the time that he must have overheard Ocheeva and Caleigh talking and assumed I'd told her to keep an eye out for anyone suspicious. When he apologized to her, she accepted, then quietly shot him through the skull from across the main room as he was reading in his chair. Ocheeva was the next to go--she heard M'raaj-Dar's lifeless body hit the floor, went to investigate, and was taken out by a single knife thrust to the spine before she was even aware Caleigh was in the room. I was pleased to hear her death had been so painless and quick. Out of all the brethren of my Sanctuary, she certainly deserved it.

But the way she handled Vicente was truly inspired. I was right to believe that he was interested in her-- she informed me later that he'd made advances on her twice, in fact, but both times she had respectfully declined. The night of the Purification, however, she pretended to have a change of heart. He was removed of his weapons and out of his armor within minutes of her expressing a desire to share his bed. Personally, I couldn't blame him. She'd put down her bow and blade as well, but unbeknownst to him had stashed the dagger I'd given her at the Inn of Ill Omen within reach. When he laid her against the cold slab of stone that served as his bed and began to run his tongue along her bare skin, she arched her back and groaned enthusiastically. When she told me this, I must admit, had Vicente not already been dead I would have killed him myself. The thought of anyone else's hands on her was at that point enough to make my blood boil--especially if she were actually enjoying it. Once he was completely consumed by his attentions to her, she took the dagger into her hand. It took two strokes to kill Vicente, and I am sure she would have had to use more had the blade not been poisoned. Had he not been naked and unprepared. She was drenched in his cold, thick blood for one instant before he turned to ash.

"That took forever to get out of my hair," she complained to me later. Vampire dust had a distinctive odor, and she wanted to keep the purging as quiet as possible for as long as possible. Once she had finally cleaned herself up, she moved to the training room to seek out Gogron gro-Bolmog.

In retrospect it makes sense he would be the one to give her so much trouble. As far as I know, he was the only Brother or Sister who wore heavy armor in the entire guild. I hadn't recruited him myself, but he had been transferred to my Sanctuary by a former speaker who felt he needed "a firmer guilding hand" than she was capable of giving. I didn't need help translating that one--they wanted him with someone who was capable of silencing him with surety should things go badly. With him, things tended to. If I'd known that at the time, I likely wouldn't have taken him in.

Caleigh was ready for him, which was good, because if she hadn't been the Purification would have ended in the training hall. She managed to pierce his armor with a paralysis poison and almost ended him before the battle even began. Unfortunately, her dagger caught in his armor and the poison wore off, leaving him an opening. He knocked her flat with a gauntlet to the stomach, and when his axe came down that would have been it were she not nimble enough to dodge the blow. It contacted the stone of the training room floor, sending up sparks and numbing his arms with the force of the reverberations. She ducked behind a pillar, nocked her bow, and shot him while he was trying to regain his balance. The arrow pierced his throat. For anyone else, that would have been the end, but she had to shoot him six more times before he finally gave up and died.

The sound of the battle summoned Antoinetta Marie, who for all her aspirations of rank fell before Caleigh like a novice. She burst through the door to see what was wrong and froze, hands to her mouth, when she encountered her pincushioned Brother bleeding and twitching on the floor. Caleigh stabbed her through the side of her throat, piercing an artery and severing the vocal cords responsible for that shrill voice of hers once and for all. She died crying, clearly unwilling to meet Sithis at last. Teinaava managed to sleep through all of this and died as quickly as Ocheeva, though as covered in blood as Caleigh was at that point he should have had adequate warning to give himself a fighting chance. He and Antoinetta had gone soft. I was glad they had perished at Caleigh's hand and not while out on a contract--they deserved to die with dignity despite their weaknesses.

Telaendril, however, was not so lucky. When asked, all Caleigh would tell me was that she, too, was dead. I'd always assumed that since they were both Bosmeri they would get along, but the way Caleigh finished her made me wonder. Tavern gossip quickly filled in the gaps, but offered no hint at her motivations. Apparently she decided to publicly harass Telaendril, sending her into a frenzy, then stood back and observed as a good chunk of the City Watch cut her down. In all accounts of the incident Caleigh was smiling as the other Bosmer tried to get at her through the throng of guards. Telaendril was sobbing uncontrollably until the end. Even the Dunmeri found the event distasteful, and they generally profess to liking a good brawl. Then again, I am not sure that encounter qualified. I thought about asking her what was said, but it seemed rather pointless in the end.

Caleigh returned to me mere hours later, radiating exhaustion, and looking much worse for wear. She collapsed on my bed with a wince, slid off her cowl, and began to remove the top half of her armor. An impressive series of bruises was soon exposed, splayed across her ribs in a painful line. She cast a healing spell, and they lightened almost imperceptibly. "Oh, great. This is going to take forever."

I sighed and moved to my alchemy area. It would take me less time to make her a healing potion than it would for her to try to do it via magic. The Bosmeri are useless spellcasters. A few minutes later I handed her a bottle and she downed it silently. Instantly, the dark marks faded and she was herself again.

"Took the only one I had to get myself over here. Daedric gauntlet to the stomach does nothing for one's mobility," she grimaced, wiping her mouth and casting the emptied vial aside.

"You really should carry more than one, you know."

"I know. I wasn't thinking."

"Try to avoid that in the future," I growled, leaning in to kiss her.

"I doubt you'd care, anyway," she murmured, pressing herself into my shoulder again. I sighed and stroked her hair comfortingly, working up the will to speak. I knew this was no longer simple curiosity. I slept too well when she was near and thought of her too often when she was away. She was mine, and I wanted her with me.

"You're wrong," I said at last, and felt her tense against me.

"Then why did you ignore me for so long?"

"Like I said, you talk in your sleep."

There was a long pause. Eventually, she sighed and pulled away from me. "Lucien. He's dead, and nothing is going to bring him back. I know that." Her eyes met mine unblinkingly. "I still have nightmares about it. But when I'm with you, I'm thinking of you."

She shook her head at me sadly when I didn't respond. "You're not very good at trusting, are you?"

"In our line of work, trust is a death sentence." The words sounded hollow, even to me. Plenty of my brethren trusted. Then again, she'd just murdered most of the ones I could think of off-hand, so maybe I wasn't wrong after all.

"I don't care. I trust you. And I'd hurt you far less if you'd trust me."

"I trust you more than anyone I have ever met."

"Forgive me if that means slightly less than nothing to me, Lucien," she spat, rising off the bed and glaring down at me.

"What do you want me to do, Caleigh? Change for you?"

"I changed for you."

I pulled her toward me, ignoring the way she attempted to break free from my grasp. Once she was in my lap, I held her still by force. When she gave up and collapsed against me, I buried my face in her hair again. She smelled of sweat and blood. The combination had my nerves clamoring instantly--I wanted her again.

"All right. I will do my best. But you're being selfish."

She tensed against me and tried to pull free again, so I pinned her to my chest with my forearm against her throat. "No. Listen. You've seen me out of my robes. You know where I live." I jerked my arm up slightly, partially cutting off her air. Her eyes began to water. "There's not a single person in the guild who can boast to that. I am doing all I can, so stop trying to make me feel like it's not good enough!" I released her, and she rubbed at her throat crankily.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think about it that way."

"I even gave you permission to come here whenever you wished," I snarled, biting at her shoulder. The groan she gave me in return was not one of pain.

"I'm sorry," she repeated softly.

"We have to be careful," I cautioned her. "I don't want anyone using you against me."

"For your sake, or mine?" she grumbled, and I had to resist the urge to strike her again.

I told her the plan I had been working on in the back of my mind, telling her in pieces between kisses and caresses. I promoted her to my Silencer, telling her only that my former one had died on contract. I didn't want her to know her predecessor had been Ocheeva in case that spawned latent guilt. After all, she had only asked me to trust her. Nothing had been said about me being truthful. As was traditional, she would receive her contracts in dead drops around the area, thus keeping up the appearance that she and I had little direct contact. If there was no link between us, it would be safer for us both, I told her, and she agreed.

"And I'm giving you my horse," I added, breathing against her neck.

"Why?"

"I want you to come back to me quickly. Otherwise I might go insane."

She grabbed at my belt and tugged at the buckle forcefully.

"I have a rule to add to the arrangement," she murmured once we were both naked again, standing together in the middle of my chamber. Her back was to my chest, and I was rubbing the tension from her shoulders.

"Yes?" I breathed, nibbling on her ear, and she reached back to run a hand through my hair.

"When we're together, we can't talk about work. I want to keep feeling like a person for as long as possible."

Against my better judgment, I decided to ask her what spawned this.

"People have been..." she started, then trailed off. "When I go outside..."

I kissed her shoulder. "Yes?"

"People have been saying the worst things to me," she managed in a rush. "Telling me they used to look up to me, but it turns out I'm just a sinner like everyone else, not a knight like they thought. Things like that."

I wrapped my arms around her tightly, but had no idea what to say. No one had ever looked up to me who didn't already murder people for a living.

"But that's not what bothers me," she continued after a moment, turning to look up to me. "It doesn't make me sad." A pause for a kiss that made the room spin. "What worries me is that my instinct is to kill them where they stand for daring to speak to me that way."

Every nerve in my body twitched in glee, though I did my best to hide it. But she could tell.

"I think you're bad for me," she murmured, licking at my chest and making me groan. "So when we're together, we don't talk about work, or the guild, or contracts. The dead drops are for that. Together, we're just two people. Can you do that?"

I probably would have agreed to anything in that moment. Of course I told her yes. I told her yes and shoved her back over onto the bed to punish her for making me feel so vulnerable. That was the first night I made her scream in earnest, a deep, throaty sound that made me pray the moment would never end. I wasn't thinking clearly. But I can't blame her for her desire because she didn't know any better. As far as she was aware, the traitor had died at her blade.

No. The fault is entirely mine. If I'd had the foresight to say no, we wouldn't be on the run now.
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The Last Days of Lucien Lachance