The Assassin: (Mortal Beloved Time Travel Romance, #2)

by Pamela DuMond

“Tomasis went with them,” Miri said. “I have never been so frightened.”

  “You should not have been frightened. I know how to fight,” he said.

  “Well, of course I was frightened,” she said. “You kiss me, declare your affections, and then immediately run off to join a fight?”

  Sounded familiar.

  “Jorge gave the pre-arranged signal,” Tomasis said. “The guards raced upstairs and found Pero Coelho hiding under the bed of a frightened, half-naked whore, and Alvaro Goncalves tucked away in a room as big as a closet sleeping off a bad hangover.”

  “Where are they now?” I asked.

  “Chained in the barn and under constant surveillance,” Miri said. “I made their suppers.”

  I knew the word would spread from town to town through the gypsy network, as well its more proper military equivalent, that two of Inêz de Castro’s assassins had been captured. King Pedro would most likely know by the morning. I asked why we didn’t continue to search for the third assassin. Tomasis shared that the guards were under the King’s orders to return as soon as a majority had been found.

  Plans were made and provisions speedily gathered to begin our return trip to Coimbra the next day. I didn’t know whether to feel happy, sad, or both. This had been the journey of a lifetime. “I’m so happy about you and Tomasis,” I told Miri.

  She rolled her eyes. “Will he still find me enchanting following our first roll in the hay after I have butchered a few pigs?”

  “Actually,” I said. “I think he will. He’s a keeper. I need to take a walk with Scout and burn off some steam.”

  “Right.” She bear hugged me so hard I feared that she’d broken one of my ribs. “Go say your prayers for Jorge,” she said and released me. “But return quickly. I do not trust who might be in the woods tonight.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The dog and I walked to the forest’s edge. Scout did his business, and then raced around, sniffing here and there.

  It was hard to believe that only a few hours earlier, I’d kissed the man I loved, watched my friend die, and received my own message. I sat on the ground, leaned back against a large pine tree and pulled the small crimson silk pouch from my dress. It was still moist, stained with Jorge’s blood. I coaxed it open and pulled out a piece of parchment paper. I unfolded it, held it up to the moonlight, and revealed a handwritten note. The breath caught in my throat and I read:

  Dear Messenger:

  I know you’ve gone through hell and back to get here. You’ve traversed thousands of years and too many miles to count. You’ve struggled through hardship and wars, known hunger, poverty, and were nearly broken by wounds that cut you to your very core.

  You’ve also worn the finest of gowns, and enjoyed the richest foods and drinks, all the while knowing that mortal enemies were probably seated at the same table as you, sometimes just chairs away.

  And yet, if you’re reading this letter, Messenger, you’re still alive.

  Have you figured out what your real task is yet, Messenger?

  I flipped the page, but my message just stopped. It was torn, ripped—where was the rest? I poked a finger inside the silk pouch searching, but nothing else was inside.

  My friend had died to protect me and deliver a message that had been interrupted? Ripped into pieces?

  “No,” I exclaimed. “No!”

  ~ twenty-eight ~

  We left the next morning for Coimbra. I feared Samuel would stay at the estate, but he rode at first light with the rest of the guards.

  “Are you sure you feel well enough to travel?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  I held up four fingers in front of him. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  He covered a smile. “Twenty. Why did you not sleep overnight at my parents’ estate last night? I went looking for you. Do you know how many rooms that place have? I lost track.”

  “Oh, well, yes,” I said. “About that…”

  I was not going to tell him about Giulia and my conversation.

  “Apparently I’ve grown quite fond of camping,” I said.

  “Apparently Giulia chased you off the property,” he said. “I am sorry, Nadja.”

  He bent down from his horse and grazed my chin with his fingers. “I wish you could ride with me,” he said and leaned his mouth next to my ear. “Was it just a dream that we kissed last night? I am looking forward to holding you so tight against me sometime soon. I am looking forward to wrapping my arms around you, inhaling your scent, and hearing every single one of your breaths. I want to—”

  “Nadja!” Miri called from the back of the cart that Tomasis was driving that pulled ahead of us. “Hurry up or we shall leave you behind!”

  “Go!” Samuel said. “We will spend time later.” He smiled, kicked his heels into his horse, and cantered off to rejoin the guards at the front of our caravan.

  I lifted my skirts off the ground, raced to the cart, reached for Miri’s outstretched hand, and awkwardly climbed on.

  “I thought you two were going to start kissing in the middle of the road,” she whispered and nodded at Sister Ana who napped in the front corner. “What if she saw you? She would rain fire and brimstone on your wicked heads and you would be stuck doing penance for the rest of your lives. He kissed you—I just know it—tell me! I cannot believe you kept this to yourself. Provide me with details!”

  “It happened last night and I couldn’t tell you because of all the terrible things that happened,” I said.

  “Yes, Captain Jorge’s murder was awful,” Miri said. “But remember Jorge was not only the biggest flirt, he also loved juicy gossip. If he were alive right now—he would be teasing the details out of you. So, you need to share,” she said. “Immediately. In his honor.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “It was magical…”

  ~ ~ ~

  We didn’t rush back to Coimbra, but we certainly didn’t take our time. Meals were brief. Sleep was shorter and fitful. I found myself making excuses to spend time with Samuel. He held my hand. I flipped his over and pretended to read his palm. When no one seemed to be looking, he’d lift it to his lips and kiss it.

  Samuel and I had an increasingly more difficult time keeping our hands off each other. I spent my days trying to figure out how we could be together again in private. For the most part, everyone knew we’d gotten involved, but no one called us on it. Even if they did, I stopped caring what everyone else thought.

  Strangely, I was drawn to the cage that Pero and Alvaro were imprisoned in. A few times I hid just yards away and stared at them. I wanted to know how it was possible they could commit such a hard-hearted amoral act. How could they take a mother away from her children, a wife away from her loving husband? Were they always monsters? Or were they perhaps once good men who lost their way and now did very bad things?

  The second day on our return trip, Miri was too busy to take the prisoners their meals, so I volunteered. “Are you certain?” She handed me a small wooden platter holding two gruel filled bowls and stale bread.

  “Yes,” I said. “They don’t scare me.”

  Considering I hadn’t seen them close up since the assassination—that was a bit of a lie.

  I trooped around the guards, the peasants, and the few remaining nobles who gobbled their food and drank their wine but I didn’t see Samuel.

  The assassins appeared so large and powerful when they threatened Inêz. I remembered her bravery as well as her screams and my hands trembled slightly as I approached their cage. But the closer I drew to them, the more they appeared smaller and miserable.

  “Oh, look, Pero,” Alvaro said. “I do believe they sent us entertainment with our meal.”

  I held the platter in front of the guard on duty. He poked through the gruel to search for hidden weapons and then passed the food through the compartment into their prison cart.

  “You are the servant girl,” Pero said as he tore into his meal. “The one who took care of the children of Inêz?” />
  What did I have to lose?

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “I told King Afonso we should have killed you and the royal bastards as well.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “For a moment I pitied your current predicament. Not so much anymore.”

  “Diogo said that if he got a second chance, he would kill her,” Alvaro said. “Diogo hates loose ends. You know, the kind that can come back and ruin the best laid plans.”

  One of Inêz’s assassins had talked about killing me?

  My heart started pounding and I felt a little faint.

  Pero laughed. “I do believe you put the fear of God into that gypsy girl, Alvaro. After everything we have been through, you still find new ways to amuse me.”

  Someone grasped my arm and I jumped.

  “Leave her alone,” Samuel said and dragged me away from them. “What were you thinking?” He whispered. “They are evil men. Jackals. Stay away from them!”

  “You look familiar, sir,” Alvaro called. “Do we know each other?”

  “No,” Samuel said. “We have never met.” He squeezed my arm. “Keep walking!”

  “You do look familiar,” Pero chimed in. “I could swear I have seen you before.”

  “Never,” Samuel said.

  “Perhaps you have a twin?” Alvaro asked.

  I watched Samuel’s face start to shut down. It was like watching a heavy curtain fall. The emotionally open, kind, young man was being replaced by the cold, guarded version I met when I first traveled here. “What’s going on?” I asked. “Tell me!” I tugged on his sleeve.

  “I cannot,” he said. “That piece of my heart shut tight a long time ago. And it will never be re-opened.”

  ~ ~ ~

  We found ourselves just a day’s journey outside the capitol. Our time together was coming to a close. “Meet me,” Samuel whispered as I helped Miri set up the tents. “Meet me where the meadow meets the forest. We only have tonight. Tomorrow we shall be back at Coimbra and I do not know yet how we can be together.”

  My heart plummeted into my stomach. “Right,” I said. “You can always visit me at the royal kitchen. I’ll make sure you get the non-stale bread.”

  “Do not give up yet. We can figure this out,” he said. “Meet me?”

  “Lord De Rocha, would you look at my horse?” Gaspar interrupted. “He suddenly flinches in the middle of a trot.”

  “Of course,” Samuel said, turned, and walked off. Stopped in his tracks and stared at me. “Please?”

  I nodded.

  ~ ~ ~

  And so I waited for Samuel where the meadow met the forest. I waited for him because he believed that we only had tonight. And maybe he was right. Ryan had said that if I met Samuel in different lifetimes that he might eventually remember me in present day. I had to take a chance; I had to trust that this might be true. But what if it wasn’t?

  What if we really did only have tonight?

  Every moment felt precious, every stolen glance, touch, and kiss I replayed in my head and tucked into my memory to remember and savor as the years passed. Not just for this lifetime—but for every lifetime, for any year that I found him.

  Scout barked once, interrupting my thoughts. I glanced around looking for Samuel but he still wasn’t here, which frankly, was perplexing. The old Samuel might have left me angry by the side of the road in order to protect us both. But the new and improved Samuel would never leave me alone at night in a dark deserted area waiting for him.

  Where was he? Had someone detained him with silly gossip or last minute duties? We would arrive in Coimbra tomorrow and deliver our prisoners. There was bound to be a flurry of false emergencies to absorb our few remaining minutes of free time.

  Scout snarled, low in register, almost like a warning. I glanced around and spotted him a dozen or so yards away from me. He’d flattened himself onto the ground as he stared into the forest, his lips curling back over his teeth.

  The hairs on the back of my arms raised and a chill descended through my body. I walked quietly toward my dog, knelt down and soothed my fingers through the long, coarse, black and white hair on the back of his neck and ears. “What’s up, buddy?” I whispered.

  He gazed up at me, eyes wide for a few seconds. He looked grateful for the ear scratch and thumped his tail on the ground. Then something shifted in the air, because he stared back at the forest, bared his teeth, and growled.

  I pointed my finger at him and whispered, “Stay.” When I smelled lavender, sage, and something else familiar. Scout whimpered. “Shh!” I pressed my index finger to my lips, left the meadow, and entered the woods.

  ~ twenty-nine ~

  Of course Scout didn’t stay, he followed me. It was too late to give him any more commands, but at least he paced after me quietly.

  The moon was low and the skies filled with puffy clouds bumping up against each other. I made out a clearing just a hundred or so yards ahead of me. I heard people mumbling, and I moved closer to try and hear them. I spotted Sister Ana and skidded to a stop.

  Miri said that she had seen Ana in the forest with a man. The last thing I wanted to do was interrupt a liaison between Ana and her boyfriend. I knew she was supposed to be a chaste nun who had sworn off men, but I would totally understand if she had a guy on the side.

  I could almost hear what they were saying, but almost didn’t cut it. I edged closer to them, ducking my head, and hiding behind thick brush and trees.

  “I have tried my utmost to do everything that you asked,” Sister Ana said. “It is bad enough that I have been sent to this time period, but worse that you insist I pretend to be a nun. Do you know how many times I have practically choked on ‘Yes, Sister’; ‘God Bless, Sister’; ‘Whatever you want, Sister’? I feel like a common dish rag.”

  A man replied in a voice so low I only made out a few words. “Ana… Working so hard… great job… Soon… But, you shouldn’t have… You must stop…”

  But then a woman said much more clearly, “Oh, Ana. You are trying so hard. I know what that feels like. But remember, you can go home when this is over. You can go back to your family, your friends, and your loved ones.”

  Sister Ana threw her hands up in the air. “How do you know? This is the longest I have ever been away from home. What if I travel back to my time and find everyone dead and buried? Or, perhaps I journey back to my real home and discover everyone I love has not even been born yet? I do not want to sacrifice my real life for this job!”

  “Ana,” the woman with the soothing maternal voice said. “That won’t happen. Trust me. You’ll see. Everyone you love and care for will most likely be there. And like most of the times you travel, they might not even realize that you’ve been missing.”

  “You need to give me proof that all will be fine,” Sister Ana said. “Because, I am beginning to fear for my sanity.”

  “Trust me, Ana,” the man said. “All will definitely not ‘be fine’ if you keep screwing this up. You need to stop your very messy, out-of-control behavior, now.”

  “‘Stop?’ You, of all people, ask me to stop? Jorge was a Messenger. He was going to tell her the gossip. Give her the entire message before it was time. I did what I had to do to contain the situation,” Sister Ana said.

  “You were supposed to warn Jorge, not kill him.” The woman sighed. “He was a lovely man, a genuinely kind soul.”

  “You think I care about kindness?” Sister Ana screeched. “You two have not been forthright with me. You need to convince me why should I not kill her? What stops me from killing her?” She threw her hands up in the air. “When did my job change from Hunter to Babysitter?”

  “Don’t push me, Ana!” the man said.

  This didn’t sound like a conversation with a boyfriend. This wasn’t a lover’s quarrel with the other woman in the room. The man’s voice sounded familiar. Why did his voice sound familiar?

  That’s when I identified the third scent: chocolate chip cookies. I was sixteen years old in medieval Po
rtugal—not six years old in Chicago. I closed my eyes and memories of that last crazy car ride with my mama flooded my brain.

  Sprigs of lavender and a sage stick hung from her rear view mirror and I munched on a warm, freshly baked chocolate chip cookie. I didn’t know why we were going so fast up this circular car park, but I knew I was with my mama, which always made it a perfect moment. Until we were struck violently by a monster-sized SUV that demolished our car and left us teetering ten stories up in the air, the back wheels grinding against the reinforced guard rail.

  The man peered at mama through the partially opened window. “It’s your choice, Rebecca. Stay and know that you’ve killed your daughter. Or leave and possibly live to fight another day.”

  My attention ripped from my memories back into the moment when the same man walked into view, I spotted a chunky silver ring gleaming on his finger, and I gasped.

  His eyes met mine, and he nodded at me before he turned his gaze back to Ana.

  “You can’t kill her, Ana,” Malachi said. “You can’t kill her because Madeline is mine.”

  ~ ~ ~

  My heart pounded in my chest and my skin burned like it was on fire.

  I turned and ran. I raced through that forest as fast as I could. I didn’t care if I sounded like an elephant galloping across African wetlands. I didn’t care if I was clumsier than a bull in a china shop. It didn’t matter if they could hear me. I lifted the skirt of my long dress, and I ran because my life depended on it.

  I simply had to get out of dodge before Malachi, and the sheer hell he represented, found me, killed me, and left me for dead in a world in which I didn’t belong.

  The blood pounded in my ears as I dodged around fallen trees, stumbled over rocks, and sunk into soft, wet earth. I saw a soft light wavering in the meadow and I aimed myself like a bullet in its direction.

  “Nadja!” Samuel called to me.

  “Samuel!” I cried but kept on running, my hair flying behind me, every cell in my body aching to reach him.