Legends of Medieval Romance: The Complete Angel's Assassin Trilogy

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Aurora immediately rushed to the chamber pot. Violent spasms wracked her body as she heaved into the pot. When she finished, she slid down to her knees, weak and spent. Tears rolled over her cheeks. She clutched her stomach as fiery pain spiked up from her midsection and radiated out into her entire body. She curled into a tight ball on the floor.

  Damien picked her up, carefully laying her upon her bed. He brushed her hair back away from her brow.

  “I’m not like my mother,” she wept. “Why would Marie do this? What have I done?”

  Lord Gabriel skidded to a halt outside the open door and then rushed into the room. His face was colorless, his eyes filled with fear. He froze in his tracks when he saw his daughter lying crumpled in a ball on the bed. He looked at Damien, terror filling his face. “The dog is dead,” he said.

  Chapter Eight

  Lord Gabriel dropped to his knees beside his daughter’s bed. Aurora groaned, holding her stomach. Gabriel desperately wrapped his arms around her, cradling her in a tight embrace. He looked at the guards standing in the doorway and screamed, “Get the herbalist now!”

  The guards disappeared from the doorway.

  Damien stepped back from the bed. There was nothing he could do for Aurora now. She would have to fight this off herself. Still, he felt the weight of guilt settle heavy on his shoulders. He should have been quicker. He should have stopped her from drinking it. He brushed the thoughts aside. It would do no good to place this blame on his shoulders. He was here for a different reason. If he had killed her already, he would not be feeling this guilt. This was sheer madness! She was already supposed to be dead by his own hand, yet here he stood like an anguished family member desperate for her recovery.

  “Aurora, look at me,” Gabriel commanded. She opened large, bright eyes filled with pain. He held her tight against his chest, whispering into her hair, “You’ll be fine.” Gabriel lifted desperate eyes to Damien. “She will not die,” he vowed.

  Aurora’s soft sobs and groans of repressed pain made Damien clench his teeth. Another assassin? It did not surprise him. Roke was playing him. This was a game to his master. Yes, if he completed the mission, he could have his freedom. But Roke was not going to make it easy. If someone else killed her, he would never get his freedom from Roke. Damien knew he could never allow that to happen. He knew he should have realized what Roke was up to with the first assassin in the marketplace. Roke had no intention of letting Damien succeed in getting his freedom; he had no intention of letting Damien go. Slowly, Damien’s fists curled tight. All Roke wanted to do was mock him and humiliate him.

  As Damien watched, Aurora’s hand fell limply over the side of the bed. Damien stared at her fingers. They were so slender, so small and fragile. His jaw clenched tight. His gaze moved back to her face. Even wracked with pain, she was beautiful. And so good of heart. She had believed the servant girl was innocent. Damien froze.

  The servant girl Marie.

  He knew he had seen someone else in the hallway with her earlier. That shadowy shape. He had to find Marie. He had to discover who the other assassin was and eliminate him. He couldn’t allow anyone to threaten Aurora’s life. No other assassin would be allowed to jeopardize his freedom. He moved to the door, pausing for a long moment to look back at Aurora. Right now, he could do nothing for her. The herbalist was her only hope.

  Damien slipped out of the room.

  Damien merged with the shadows as he moved through the castle corridors, making his way toward the kitchens. The meal was at an end and the servants were cleaning up the Great Hall. Damien scanned the large area, but Marie was not in the room. He walked to the door near the rear wall and stood in the doorway of the kitchen for a moment, his gaze moving through the dark room. A bright fire lit the hearth at the far end, and deep patches of shadows spotted the walls.

  Damien smiled grimly. Darkness was his friend. Darkness always hid him. He slid into the room unnoticed by the two women near the fire. One stoked the flames, adding wood to the fire. The other stirred a kettle above the burning, crackling wood, humming softly to herself.

  Another doorway nearby was open, giving Damien a glimpse of stairs leading down. Damien walked silently toward the open doorway keeping himself safely hidden within the flickering shadows of darkness. He reached the entryway.

  The woman attending the kettle suddenly stopped humming.

  Damien cast a glance over his shoulder, but the women were still busy near the hearth, neither one looking in his direction. Silence trailed him as he descended the curved stairway. He took each step soundlessly, moving with fluid grace.

  A shadow shifted in front of the light from a torch at the bottom of the stairs. Someone was coming up the stairs.

  Damien’s hand moved to his sword handle.

  A large man rounded the curved staircase. He bridled at seeing Damien, stepping back, his hand moving to the dagger in his belt. He sighed and a small grin formed across his lips. “Beggin’ yer pardon,” the large man said.

  It was hard to see the man in the darkness, but the torchlight glinted off his bald head. He was half a head taller than Damien. Despite Damien’s limited view of him, there was something about the man that set his nerves on edge. Something very familiar. “Where is Marie?” Damien wondered.

  “She’s down there,” the man answered, jerking a thumb down the stairway.

  Damien hesitated a moment longer, his fingers rubbing the hilt of his weapon.

  The man smiled. He was missing two front teeth.

  Tingles shot across Damien’s shoulders. God’s blood, he thought. I know this man. But from where? As the man moved by, the smell of ale and vomit wafted from him. The stench set off alarms inside Damien. Cautiously, he watched the man continue up the stairs until he disappeared into the kitchen. Only then did Damien guardedly move down to the bottom of the stairs. “Marie?” he called.

  There was no answer.

  Damien stepped into the room. Crates filled with potatoes and bags of spices were stacked against one wall, some ten high. He did not see anyone. Had the man lied? And if so, why?

  Damien walked to the back of the room. It was empty. Marie was not there. He turned around…

  …and saw why Marie had not answered.

  She lay on the floor, her body hidden by a row of crates, her head twisted grotesquely to the side, her eyes wide and vacant.

  Chapter Nine

  Light burned against Aurora’s inner eyelids, bringing her back to consciousness. She opened her eyes slightly. A small face with a crooked nose leaned into her blurry vision, bright light splashing across the back of his head and his shoulders. His lips moved, but her muddled mind could not understand his words. Panic began to fester inside her.

  Another face appeared. A handsome face. A familiar face. A face she knew to be safe and protecting. The panic washed away, replaced with comforting warmth. She relaxed with a sigh. Damien. His dark eyes looked at her with heated intensity, a troubled frown marring his brow. She wanted to touch him, to soothe his worry. It took all her strength to lift her hand and brush it across his forehead, as if a simple swipe of her fingertips could erase his concern. Her lips turned up at the corners.

  Then, blackness descended like night, blanketing her.

  A ghostly tingling danced across Damien’s forehead where Aurora’s fingertips had moved. It was an odd feeling, one he had never experienced before, as if she were still touching him even though it was hours later. He had to admit he did not want the feeling to fade.

  The chill of the shadows he stood in brought him back to reality. His place was in the dark, separated from the rest of the world, not pining for the ethereal touch of a woman who would soon be dead.

  He shouldn’t even be in this room. It wasn’t his place. Aurora’s welfare shouldn’t be his concern. He looked at her, resting comfortably in her bed. Her lids were closed, concealing those wondrous blue eyes. Her lips glistened in the candlelight. He didn’t want her to die. Not like this. Poison, he thou
ght with distaste. Poison was so cowardly. She had the right to face her assassin, to look into his eyes.

  The herbalist said she would survive. But Damien knew without a doubt the assassin would try again. His jaw clenched. After he discovered Marie, he asked Lord Gabriel if he could remain with Aurora. She was vulnerable to attacks and no one was going to take his freedom away from him. Not this time. Not when he was so close. Gabriel agreed, as long as Rupert remained with her as well.

  Damien looked at Rupert who sat against the wall near the door. The knight’s head drooped to his shoulder. A moment later, soft snores came from the sleeping guard. Damien snorted. Not a very effective deterrent against an assassin.

  Damien approached Aurora. He stood over her, staring down. Her long lashes rested against her pale cheek. His gaze moved over her face, lingering on her lips, lips slightly parted in rest. A longing to taste those lips overcame him, to caress the smooth skin of her cheeks. He could do it now. Rupert was asleep, Aurora would make no sound. How simple it would be.

  Finish it, a voice inside him demanded. Claim what is rightfully yours. Damien’s hand dropped to the dagger tucked in his belt.

  She slept, innocently, unaware of the danger hovering over her. Innocently. So damned innocent. And she trusted him. Her father trusted him enough to leave him at her side. The notion was ridiculous, outrageous! He was dangerous. He lifted his hands, moving them toward her neck. He could do this without a dagger. He would finally be free.

  She sighed softly, drawing his gaze again to her lips. They were parted and moist. His hands stopped inches before his fingers touched her neck.

  How could he do it without tasting her?

  He straightened, moving his hands to his side. No one would take his freedom from him. She would live for three more days. Plenty of time to be with her, to enjoy her company, before he had to claim his freedom.

  He pulled back from her, withdrawing into the sanctity of the shadows.

  Darkness. Blood. A flash of silver. She knew what would come next. She knew. She groaned and tossed her head. The eyes. Black orbs that led straight to a world of death. She could see them in the darkness, watching, waiting.

  She gasped and opened her eyes.

  “Shhh.” Her father sat on the side of the bed, stroking her hair. “You are safe.”

  But she knew she wasn’t safe. The assassin was out there, waiting for her. “Father,” she whispered, the remnants of the nightmare still foggy in her mind.

  “Rest,” he advised.

  Her gaze scanned the room, the dark corners, the blackness at the edge of her bed. “Where is Damien?”

  “He stepped out for a moment. He’ll be back.” He rubbed her hair soothingly.

  Aurora caught his hand. “He saved my life again. He was right.”

  “Yes,” her father agreed with a solemn nod.

  “Damien should be my bodyguard.”

  His brows came together. “We know nothing about him,” Gabriel whispered. “He is not from Acquitaine.”

  Fatigue made her lids heavy. “He saved my life twice. What more is there to know?”

  “Shh, child. Rest. I will take care of you.”

  “I want Damien…” she whispered, but the pull of sleep urged her deeper into darkness. She shook herself, opening her eyes stubbornly. Her fingers held tight to her father’s hand. “Please, Father. He’s the only one who makes me feel safe.”

  Her father nodded in supplication. “Just sleep.”

  She answered him by closing her eyes and settling beneath the covers.

  Damien entered the room. He had wandered through the castle, looking for the assassin, but he knew he wouldn’t find him. Not now. Not after Marie’s death. The killer had surely vanished and would now bide his time, preparing for the next strike.

  Lord Gabriel looked up at him from the bedside.

  Rupert sat up straight in his chair, stifling a yawn. Damien was glad to see his eyes were open.

  Gabriel stared down at Aurora before bending to kiss her forehead. He turned and locked gazes with Damien. The light of the candle beside the bed cast an aura of cold consideration from the depths of his eyes.

  Dread stirred inside Damien. Had Gabriel found out who he was?

  “Come. Walk with me,” Gabriel ordered and moved out of the room.

  Damien gave Rupert a stern glare as he moved past him. “Stay awake,” he commanded and followed Lord Gabriel out of the room.

  They walked down the long, deserted hallway in silence. Their footsteps echoed quietly. The castle still slept.

  Gabriel’s head softly nodded, the man deep in thought, then he spoke more as if to himself than to Damien. “She is strong. She will survive this.”

  “I have no doubt,” Damien agreed.

  Gabriel turned to regard him. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Damien.”

  “From where do you hail?”

  “I’m -- a traveler. I don’t have a land I call my home.”

  “A criminal?” Lord Gabriel wondered. “Or a mercenary?”

  Damien did not answer. From his prior experiences, people drew their own opinions of him without his help. They were usually much darker and more dangerous than anything he could come up with. The less he spoke, the more respect he was given.

  Lord Gabriel stopped to face him. His sharp blue eyes squinted in suspicion. “It would behoove you to tell me the truth. I will find out eventually.”

  Damien closed his mouth tightly. How long did he have before Gabriel really did discover the truth about him? “I was born in Meadowbrook. But I do not call that my home. I have no family. My allegiance is to myself.”

  Gabriel’s brow rose at the last. His gaze swept Damien’s face, assessing him. “You seem to know much about what is happening here, about the attempts on Aurora’s life.”

  Again, Damien remained quiet.

  “You believe there are other assassins?”

  Damien nodded slowly. “One is still at large. I believe whoever is behind the attempts on your daughter’s life will not stop until she is dead.”

  Gabriel pursed his lips, thoughtfully. “You have saved Aurora’s life twice now. For that I am eternally thankful.” Lord Gabriel paused, his focus on the floor, his lips pursed deep in thought. “You seem to know about fighting and death. What did you do before you were a traveler?”

  “I have always been a traveler.”

  “Where did you learn your skills?”

  “I watch people. I watch how they move, how they act, how they react. Most people react in the same manner to the things happening around them. The people who react strangely or differently draw my attention. That’s how I saw the assassin in the village. That’s how I knew the servant girl had poisoned the ale.” He shrugged. “I have no special skills.”

  Lord Gabriel turned as if to continue down the hall, but suddenly he drew his sword and swung at Damien.

  Damien instinctively sidestepped the blow and his sword was out instantly, parrying the next blow. The swords crossed and the two men stood that way for a long moment, Damien’s breathing coming evenly, his eyes dark and burning.

  Lord Gabriel chuckled. “A man with your instincts was trained. And trained well.” He straightened, drawing his sword away from Damien. “Where were you trained?”

  Damien clutched the handle of his weapon tightly. For a moment, his tension refused to abate. He forced his jaw and stance to relax. Some truth might pacify him. “I was trained with others to become a knight.” That was partially the truth. He was trained with others. But not to become a knight. “I lacked the coin and sponsor to gain knighthood.”

  Lord Gabriel nodded. “You trained under a knight?”

  “Many. I defeated all I stood against.” He knew it was an arrogant boast, but he did not withdraw it. It was simply the truth. “I have never fought a knight I could respect enough to pledge my allegiance to.”

  Lord Gabriel studied him, his scrutiny reaching inside Damien, almost as though
he were trying to touch his soul.

  Damien turned his gaze from Lord Gabriel. He had no soul to touch.

  Lord Gabriel sheathed his weapon. “Your skills are admirable. Your instincts, impeccable.”

  Damien bowed his head slightly in acceptance of the compliment.

  “I need someone to look after my daughter. Someone to protect her.”

  Damien slowly resheathed his sword. He nodded his head in agreement. “He should be with her at all times.”

  Lord Gabriel agreed. “Yes. She must be kept safe, at all costs. No harm must befall her. I will pay handsomely.”

  “Of course,” Damien approved. “She is your daughter. You should pay very well to attract the best man to keep her safe.”

  “Yes, I should pay very well,” Lord Gabriel laughed quietly. Then, his expression turned sincere as he looked Damien squarely in the eyes. “She wants you to be her bodyguard. I am offering you the position. And I will pay you handsomely to keep her safe.”

  Chapter Ten

  When Aurora opened her eyes again, it was dark. Completely dark. For a moment, she was lost. Panicked. Disoriented. She made three attempts at sitting upright before her weakened arms were finally able to hold her weight.

  “How do you feel?”

  She whirled toward the voice but could not see through the thick darkness. As she peered into the dimness, a shadowy shape materialized near the wall. It broke away from the rest of the darkness and moved toward her. She almost cried out. Her body trembled as she pulled the blanket to herself like a shield. The deathly memory again burst into her mind’s eye. A flashing metal dagger. Blood. Dark eyes.

  “Are you thirsty?”

  Her voice vanished, lost in her dry throat. Had the shadow come to kill her? Like her mother? Her hands fisted in the blanket she held to her chest. Her body stiffened, ready to flee.

  “Aurora?”

  The soft timbre of his voice formed a cocoon of reassurance around her and melted her anxiety.