Page 4 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

“Of course, sweet Calliope,” I smile at her, watching her cheeks puff into a blissful smile. I reach into my bag, feeling for parchment and pen, all the while lost in her countenance.

I pull out both and motion at her to take it. She giggles.

“What is it, Calliope?” I ask, amused. “Do you find me humorous?”

“That’s not a pen,” she laughs, not unkindly.

“I beg your –?” I begin, but just as I look down, turning the pen in my hand, it pricks me. A sharp sting pulses through my veins, and an intense rush of warmth floods my being.

I stare in shock as her laughter dances around me like playful fireflies in the night. The air crackles with an inexplicable energy, a magnetic force drawing me closer to her, and then, I hear her gasp.

“Oh, poor you,” she mutters, reaching to take my injured hand in her own. I quickly shift the clever cupid’s arrow to my other palm. Disbelief washes over me. The arrow is now smaller and thinner to fit where I put it. The tip of the heart is somewhat red. Blood. Mine.

I now hold the parchment and arrow away from the finger she is examining, protecting her from its power.

“You’re bleeding,” she shakes her head and lifts my finger to her mouth. She takes it in, sucking down on it gently and a surge of emotion unlike anything I've experienced before floods my senses, overwhelming me with a love so intense and profound that it drowns out any thoughts of revenge.

At that moment, all I desire is Calliope beside me, her laughter echoing through eternity.

I want her unlike anyone before. To imagine even a single hair on her head being harmed makes me want to rain chaos on whoever caused it.

Though I do not know her last name, her past, or her home, I vehemently believe I was led to find her. Tears slightly blur my sight as I watch her fuss over me.

This arrow, which I was to wield on Hygieia and the others, was fated to be wielded on me. I realize that revenge is a hollow pursuit compared to the warmth of her touch and the light in her eyes.

My heart beats with a newfound purpose as I gaze at Calliope. The world around me fades away, leaving just the tenderness of this moment.

“Are you hurt badly, dear Pelagios?” she asks, releasing my finger from her mouth. As if entranced, I let my finger briefly graze her chin before pulling away.

She gasps and darts her eyes around to see if anyone notices.

“Do you have a man, Calliope?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

She shakes her head, her chest heaving.

And in that moment, I realized she was made for me.

"Are you alright, Pelagios?" Calliope inquires again, concern painting her beautiful face as I don’t say more.

"Indeed, I am," I whisper, though I find myself unable to tear my gaze from her enchanting eyes. An unquenchable thirst blossoms within me - a longing to spend time with Calliope.

The burning fire of vengeance that once consumed my thoughts and directed my path now pales in comparison to the brilliant flame of love ignited by the cupid's arrow, enticing me to stay, to explore.

"Calliope," I begin, my voice soft and earnest, "I’d rather abandon our search for Hygieia."

"Abandon it?" she counters, taken aback by my sudden change of heart. "But you have come so far in your quest."

"Indeed, I have," I admit, "but this orchard is teeming with life and beauty. It would be a shame to let such an opportunity pass us by. What say you, dearest Calliope? Might we explore this bounty and perhaps uncover some new delights?"

Calliope hesitates, her brow furrowed in contemplation. She then gazes into my eyes, seemingly searching for something within them, and I can only hope that she finds what she seeks.

"Very well, Pelagios," she acquiesces with a gentle smile. "Let me show you what wonders this orchard has to offer.”

For the first time in my life, I feel light splitting into colorful rays.

We gather our basket, brimming with our pickings. It’s late, and we are both famished and weary.

“Shall we share some wine and have the fruits of our labor for supper?” I point at the basket holding fresh grapes, apples, strawberries and other delights we’ve picked all afternoon.

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