Marie warily glanced around her from the protection of her hood, then she opened the note again.
Yes, she knew where he was, and yes, she knew what he meant, but she was confused.
The plan had been practiced time and time again, the strategies perfected, the information disclosed and memorized, code names decided until they could all recite the plan in their sleep.
But one part of the plan had gone horribly wrong, Marie reflected.
She knew it was her fault. She had trusted in the old woman, and it had led to pain and fear and hatred. The old German lady had attempted to kill her, and it was only due to him that she had survived. He had interceded, killing the old woman and barely carrying a severely injured Marie away from the vicious guards to the headquarters.
And so it was that she had to hide in France.
And so it was that the plan had failed and she was hiking to the mountain top in the freezing rain, confused, the Alliance’s only hope.
She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin as she neared the peak. She must not appear weak in front of him.
No doubt he already considered her weak, but then what of his signature?
Love, A, he’d written. Love was not a word taken lightly by their people, yet how could it be possible?
Jutting her chin out and clenching her fists, shoulders squared and eyes narrowed, she walked toward the figure at the end of the road.
She had to be tough, she had to—she had no time to think before they were running at each other and she was in his arms, pressing her face to his shoulder as he tightened his grip and lifted her off the ground.
“Marie,” he murmured.
“Aiden,” she whispered against his neck.
Embarrassed by her impulsive actions, she jerked away, hiding her eyes under her hood.
He looked confused, but hid it by setting his jaw.
Marie instantly regretted pulling away, but it was too late to turn back.
“So, what’s the plan?” Her voice was hard and rough with unshed tears.
Maybe Aiden recognized this and understood, or maybe he just didn’t hear the edge to her tone, but either way he seemed to know it was time for work.
“You got the stuff, Thibault?” he asked.
She nodded once, putting the walls back up and hiding her tears.
“We’re transporting back home to meet with Headquarters,” Aiden said shortly.
“From there, we go out to look for the last two tokens that will open the scimitar’s sheath.”
Marie nodded, knife in hand. She was the battle-hardened warrior once again.

For my readers who do not know of it, the Blue Scimitar is the most powerful weapon ever created, aside from the lightning bolt of Zeus.
It cannot be broken, but will glow only in the hands of the true bearer. It has powers of invisibility and it knows when an adversary is lying to you.
In the hands of the true bearer, the golden blade glows dark blue. If it is handled by any other than the bearer, it emits electric blue sparks and shrieks.
In Aiden and Marie’s world, the forces of evil were looking for the scimitar, because they had created a weapon that they believed could break it before it reached the bearer.
Therefore Marie and Aiden had been set the task of finding it and restoring it to the bearer before the Supreme Courts could lay hands on it.

They thought it would be easy. After all, what were the Supreme Courts but a bunch of doddering, toothless old men who wore dentures?
But not even Headquarters had thought of the Destroying Angels of Hell’s Gate Mountain.