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

by Laurel O'Donnell

  He watched the camp, waiting patiently. Far too patiently for a man bent on death. He observed, taking in their laughter, their movements. Damien recognized the outline of Hogar, the big man with thick shoulders and arms. Hogar crossed the campsite and disappeared into a tent.

  Damien focused on the tent. He stayed low to the ground and moved toward the tent. He paused once when a shout went up from his left. A drunken Hungar stumbled onto one of the campfires while another laughed.

  He froze until the scene settled down and the camp was quiet again. Then he moved quickly, quietly forward. Hiding behind a wagon, he scanned the area. From this vantage point, he was able to see the front of Hogar’s tent. One guard. Hogar obviously thought there was no danger to him. The fool.

  Damien slowly eased his dagger from his belt, making no sound. He would not miss this opportunity. Hogar would be dead before day break.

  His hand shook with the image of Hogar lying in a pool of his own blood. Damien desired his death like he had no other.

  He skirted the edges of the camp moving from shadow to shadow. The essence of an assassin had returned, filling him with its full force. It was almost as if he had never left it. Such anger and the need for vengeance burned within him. He wanted blood. The beast inside him was demanding, hungry.

  Inside Hogar’s tent, he saw the leader move. The big man crossed the tent and lay down, leaning forward to blow out a tiny flame.

  Damien waited. Patiently, anticipating. He paused, scanning to make sure no one was watching. He waited for what seemed like hours until he heard a snore issuing from the tent. He moved. He lifted the edge of the tent flap and crawled beneath the sheet, pausing halfway beneath to allow his eyes to adjust to the complete darkness.

  Hogar slept on the ground like the animal he was. Damien wasted no time. He moved swiftly, silently, deadly up to him until he stood over him. He placed the sharp edge of the dagger against Hogar’s throat and moved his wrist.

  Chapter 13

  Justina led the way through the darkness, through the thick brush of the forest. She moved at a quick pace, the branches scratching her arms and face. Her dress caught in a bush and she ripped it free, tearing off some of the material. She didn’t want to think. She just wanted to move. The faster she moved, the less she was able to think of her brother. She glanced back at Aurora. She was amazed that the noble woman was keeping up. “How much farther?”

  “We have to cross a road and then maybe until daybreak.”

  She was breathing heavily, and Justina knew she was pushing her. Her gaze swept Aurora. Her hair was tight in the braid, her dress was untorn. She looked like she was refreshed and ready for a day in the Great Hall. “Do you always look so... amazing?”

  Aurora looked down at her dress. “I do not look amazing.”

  Justina quirked her lips in disbelief. She turned and continued on.

  “Do you have any other family members?” Aurora asked.

  Justina stopped cold. “Just my Uncle. But the guard said the farm had been burned.” Silence spread through the forest and Justina clenched her jaw against the anguish that rose in her. She hadn’t thought of Uncle Bruce until this very moment. “I don’t think Uncle Bruce is alive.”

  “I’m so very sorry, Justina,” Aurora whispered.

  Justina shook her head and hardened her heart, pushing the sorrow down.

  “If you had been at the farm, there’s a good chance you would have been killed, too. I’m glad you were in Acquitaine.”

  Perhaps. But being in Acquitaine didn’t save Adam. She wished she had been at the farm and she was dead.

  “How did your mother die?”

  “Mother died in childbirth with Adam. Your husband killed my father.”

  Crickets chirped in the distance, and the moon slipped back behind the clouds.

  “That’s why you looked at him the way you did at the square. The first time I saw you. You knew.”

  Justina couldn’t answer. Yes, she knew. She knew he was a cold-blooded murderer. “He should be punished for what he’s done.”

  Aurora rose up like a lioness to defend him. “Why? He was ordered to commit those crimes. He was a slave and his master commanded him. Should he be punished for following orders?”

  “Yes!” Justina snarled. “Do you know what it’s like to have someone you love taken from you?”

  Aurora lifted her chin. “I do. He killed my mother.”

  Shocked, Justina’s mouth dropped open. “What?” She opened her mouth and then closed it. “How could you...?”

  “I love him. He is not that killer anymore.”

  “He will always be that killer.”

  Aurora shook her head. “He is good and kind and a very wise ruler. He loves me. And I worry about him now. Alone, wondering where I am.”

  “Good. I’m glad he will be worrying. He should be worrying.” She started forward again.

  Aurora grabbed her arm. “Think on this, Justina. Damien is a dangerous man. But a good man. He will always do what is right.”

  Justina yanked her arm free of Aurora’s hold. She didn’t want to think on anything. Not Damien, not Aurora. Not Adam. She turned and moved on through the brush. Just Gawyn. And even Gawyn was dangerous. But her mind continued to search him out, to dwell on him. The way his eyes twinkled when he smiled, the way his hand engulfed hers; his memory was the only thing keeping her sane amidst all the horror.

  Aurora called, “Do you hear that?”

  Justina glanced back at her. She had her head cocked to the side, listening. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “It sounded like flutes.” Aurora began to make her way hurriedly through the forest.

  “Wait! Where are you going?” Justina demanded. “It could be the Hungars.”

  “The Hungars do not listen to music. Not music like this.” Aurora rushed through the brush with Justina following.

  Justina grabbed her arm as they came to a road. “Wait.” She pulled her down, so they knelt beside the road, behind a bush, and pressed her finger to her lips. She looked down the road one way and then the other. Toward the castle, she saw a small wagon and a campfire. She couldn’t make out how many people were there, but she saw shadows moving. Then, again, the music started. Flutes playing soft tunes. A drum joined in and then clapping started.

  Aurora leaned toward her to whisper, “Gypsies. They were at the castle to entertain us.”

  Justina was surprised there was no malice in her voice, only acceptance. Many didn’t like gypsies, seeing them as thieves and whores. She wondered if they would recognize Aurora. That could be dangerous. What if they sold her to the Hungars? She was about to tell her they should continue on, when a small voice came from behind them.

  “I like yer dress.” The voice was thickly accented.

  Justina and Aurora turned to see a small girl standing close to them next to a bush. Justina was amazed the child had been so quiet, quiet enough to sneak up on them.

  “Thank you,” Aurora replied. She looked around the roadside. “Where’s your mother?”

  “At the camp,” the girl answered. She shoved some beautifully thick black hair from her forehead. She wore a woolen skirt, tied around the waist with a black sash and a green tunic that was too big for her and fell off her shoulder. She squinted her eyes at Aurora.

  “Where’s your father?” Justina wondered.

  “Papa is hunting in the woods.”

  Aurora straightened in dread. She looked at Justina and there was fear in her eyes. “We have to tell them.”

  “Tell us what?” The bushes parted, and a large man emerged. He was very tall, a bow and arrow slung over his shoulder.

  Aurora stood immediately. “There are Hungars in the woods. You must be careful. They --”

  Justina jumped up and seized her arm in a tight grip. “They were moving toward the castle.”

  He eyed them suspiciously.

  Justina’s hand dropped to the dagger in her belt.

  “What are t
wo women doing out alone in the woods at night?”

  Cautiously, Justina answered, “We were trying to make it back to the castle, but we’re cut off by the Hungars.”

  “Hmm.” He eyed them again. Suddenly, a smile split his lips. “Then you must come back to camp and have some food!”

  “We would, but we have to find a way into the castle.”

  “Pah!” He swept his arm out from side to side. “You cannot see in the dark. Wait until sunrise for your journey. I insist! I, Nicodemus, will see to your comfort this night!”

  Justina swallowed her misgivings. What was she to do? She held Aurora’s arm as they walked toward the camp. Run? She could run, but she wasn’t sure how to convey that to Aurora. She followed with trepidation.

  The small girl tugged on Nicodemus’s pants leg. “I know her, Papa.”

  “I know, little one. I know.”

  Dread swirled up inside of Justina. He knew who Aurora was! He must have recognized her from the castle. This was not a good idea.

  “Can you escort us to the castle?” Aurora asked.

  “The drawbridge is raised. The gates are closed. You will not be able to enter until morning.”

  Aurora glanced down the road toward the castle anxiously. “They closed the gates?”

  “Aye.”

  “Did all the people make it inside?”

  “I do not know,” his voice was strangely compassionate. “There were many, many people entering when we left.”

  “What were you hunting for out in the dark?” Justina asked.

  He laughed. “I set traps! We need to eat. Rabbit. Mouse. I set the traps at night.” He smacked his hands together, causing Justina and Aurora to jump. “And in the morning, we have food.”

  “You don’t have enough food?” Aurora asked.

  “We have enough for now because of the kindness of the lady of the castle, but others are not so kind to us. It is best to be prepared, eh?” Nicodemus laughed and picked the young girl up, tossing her above his head. She giggled as he caught her and set her on his shoulders. “Look!” Nicodemus called as they entered the camp. “Visitors!”

  A small campfire illuminated the wagon. Two black horses were tethered to it. One woman set aside her tambourine to stand. She walked like a cat as she approached. Sleek, lethal. She circled them, eyeing them. “This little one is not worth much.”

  Justina straightened and scowled.

  When the gypsy girl looked at Aurora, she gasped and glanced at Nicodemus.

  “Be nice,” he warned her. “This is Celina. There is Rolando.” He pointed to the man near the drums with a thick mustache who stood up and bowed with a flourish, sweeping his hand out in front of him. “There is Terina.” Terina sat on the steps of the wagon. She had wide eyes that seemed to see everything. “And he is Gerad.” Gerad stood and approached them. He took Aurora’s hand and looked deep into her eyes before bending over and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

  Justina almost groaned. Did everyone have to fall in love with her? But suddenly Gerad was before Justina. He captured her hand before she could yank it behind her back. “It is quite a pleasure.” His smile was sensual, and his eyes were dark. He turned her hand over and pressed a kiss to her wrist. Justina blushed and pulled her hand from his hold. She wiped the kiss off on her skirt.

  “We must get back to the castle,” Aurora said. She glanced at Nicodemus. “When can you take us to the castle?”

  “There is no hurry,” Gerad said in his heavily accented voice. “Surely, you can share a meal with us before you go.”

  Aurora glanced at Justina.

  “There are Hungars in the forest. You should be on your way. We should be on our way,” Justina warned.

  “Oh, the Hungars!” Rolando called. He pounded on one of the drums. “They are large and not very bright.”

  “But they have sharp swords.”

  Nicodemus nodded, scooping the girl from his shoulders, and setting her on the ground. “Aye. And they are certainly no lovers of music.”

  Justina glanced toward the castle.

  “Come!” Nicodemus called, leading them into the camp. He slapped Rolando on the back of the head. “Get up! Give your seat to our guests!”

  “We don’t mean to be disrespectful, but we have to get to the castle,” Aurora insisted.

  “As I said, the gates are closed and the Hungars roam the forest. It is a dangerous time. The morning would be better to travel,” Nicodemus replied.

  Aurora scowled deeply.

  “Here! Drink. You must be thirsty!”

  Justina realized she was thirsty, but she wasn’t sure she trusted these gypsies enough to drink what they had.

  The little girl raced into the wagon and when she emerged again, she was holding a flask. She handed it to Nicodemus. He handed it to Aurora. “It is not quite what we tasted at the castle, but it satisfies our thirst.”

  Aurora shook her head and waved it away.

  “I insist. You must drink for your journey,” Nicodemus said, offering the flask again.

  Aurora took the flask, opened it, and took a quick drink. She handed the flask to Justina.

  Justina eyed it warily. But in the end, her dry throat won out and she took a deep drink. “You haven’t seen any Hungars?”

  “No. The Hungars are not very friendly with our kind. But they leave us be if we stay out of their way.”

  Celina leaned up against Nicodemus. “They would have been very friendly to me, eh?”

  Justina sat on the stump vacated by Rolando.

  Aurora looked back at the castle. Then turned to Nicodemus. “Can we borrow one of your horses?”

  Nicodemus smiled patiently. “It is not wise to travel at night. Besides, the horse’s steps would attract unwanted attention.”

  The little girl stood at Aurora’s side, staring up at her with wide brown eyes.

  Brown eyes that reminded Justina of Adam. A lump rose in her throat and she shot to her feet. They couldn’t stay here! They had to keep moving. “We should go.”

  “Go?” Nicodemus echoed. “Where would you go? It is dark and not safe for two women to be traveling alone. Eat with us. Rest. We will play music for you and we will dance.”

  Aurora met Justina’s gaze. Desperation filled her wide eyes.

  “We will escort you to the castle in the morning,” Nicodemus promised. “For now, let us keep you safe.”

  Celina started jingling the tambourine. Rolando began to tap the drums in a rhythmic sound.

  Nicodemus took Justina’s hand gently, carefully and led her to the center of the camp. He began to move his hips, swaying from side to side and stomping his feet. “Come, girl. Dance.”

  Justina could only stand still as tears rushed to her eyes. How could she dance when Adam was gone? How could she be happy? She shook her head.

  Gerad stood from the spit, staring down the road. “A rider.”

  “Here,” Nicodemus called, indicating the darker shadows of the wagon with a wave of his hand. “Behind the wagon. You must remain hidden.”

  Chapter 14

  Gawyn spurred his horse hard toward the gypsy camp he had spotted on the road. Justina! She might have sought protection with them. Or perchance they had seen her. He needed to find her. Desperation was rising in him and he had to push it down time and again. Too many images rose in his mind’s eye. Justina lying wounded in a patch of grass. Had he missed her? Doubt festered. Justina’s clothing torn, and her legs spread.

  He tightened his grip on the reins of the horse, and it came to a halt, rearing slightly as a large man approached him. Gawyn recalled seeing him in the castle during the judgements.

  “Greetings!” he called. “You ride late at night, my friend. What brings you out in the dark?”

  “I’m looking for a woman,” Gawyn told him.

  “Aren’t we all?” Nicodemus roared in a hearty laughing voice.

  “Her name is Justina. I have to find her. She has dark hair and is wearing --”

>   “Gawyn,” a voice whispered.

  Gawyn turned. For a moment, he thought it was a dream. She stood there, beside the wagon looking breathless. His heart missed a beat at the sight of her. “Justina,” he whispered. His voice was ragged as if her name had been ripped from the depths of his soul. He realized he had been preparing himself for her death. He slid from his horse and rushed forward. She met him halfway, throwing her arms around him. He caught her, and she slumped in his arms. He physically held her up, supporting her. He couldn’t resist pressing his lips to hers with such relief and elation that his knees almost buckled.

  Her face was moist and hitching sobs came from her open mouth.

  Gawyn pulled back to look into her red eyes. Her long, dark lashes were clumped together. He looked down at her face, framing it with his hands. He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, trying to wipe her agony away, yet knowing he could never do it. Just looking at her sent waves of desperation and relief and an explosive need through him. He pulled her tight against him, holding her.

  She pressed her wet face into his chest. “Adam...”

  “I know,” he whispered, stroking her hair.

  Around them, the gypsy camp was strangely quiet. Gawyn scanned the area over her shoulder. They had to get out of there before Hungars tracked them. They weren’t safe here. He tucked her protectively beneath his arm and turned.

  Aurora stepped from the bushes beside the wagon. She stood absolutely still for a long moment.

  Gawyn blinked. It was as if she had materialized from the darkness. “Aurora,” he called in relief and held out the arm that wasn’t holding Justina for her.

  Aurora came forward into his embrace.

  He squeezed her tightly, desperately glad to see her. “Damien thinks... we all thought you were dead.”

  Aurora shook her head as she pulled back to look at him. “It was Megan. They --”

  “Never mind,” Gawyn interrupted quickly. She didn’t need to relive the horror he had seen in the clearing. It must have been Megan’s body he had seen and mistaken for Aurora. They had bashed in her face beyond recognition. “Damien thinks you’re dead. We have to get back to the castle.”