A Dark Champion (15 page)

Stryder grew quiet as he considered that. But it wasn’t just that one matter that had to be weighed. “You make it sound so simple. If I were to take Rowena as my bride, I would have the responsibility of not just my lands, but hers as well. Henry would never allow me freedom to travel. I must struggle even now to get him to allow me to leave England. As overlord of both domains, I would ever be forced to his side.”

“Nothing is ever simple,” Zenobia said quietly. “Nor is anything worth having unless you have to strive for it. But don’t strive too long, Stryder, or you may very well find yourself the loser in this. Have
you given thought of how you will feel when you see the woman you love given over to another man to possess?”

Stryder blinked as Zenobia left him alone with an image in his mind so disturbing that he could barely draw breath.

Nay, he hadn’t thought of that. “Rowena won’t marry another!” he called out after Zenobia. His side protested his raised voice by throbbing instantly.

Zenobia stuck her head back in the tent. “Keep telling yourself that, and on the day of her wedding, I shall be there to comfort you.”

In that moment, he almost hated his friend for what she was doing. Throwing his pillow at her, he then turned his back to her and did his best to push her words out of his mind.

Rowena would never betray either one of them by choosing another husband. Her freedom was too precious to her.

What if Henry forces her to choose?

What if she loves another?

Those words hovered in his mind like a demon plague. It was possible. Some other man could woo her. A man of poetry and song. One who would stay by her side and give her his children.

The thought tore through him.

Ultimately the decision of whether or not she had her freedom to choose a husband depended solely on him. He would win the tournament without question.

But the song competition…

She will hate you forever if you lose it.

Would she?

Dare he chance it?

Stryder lay in silent debate as his mind and heart warred. ’Twas possible he might not win it. There were many others at court far better at song than he was. Would it be his fault if someone else was superior?

Would Rowena really blame him?

Set her free.

Stryder cursed. Aye, he would set her free. Look now how distracted he was and they barely knew one another. The last thing he could afford was to claim a woman whose very thought overshadowed everything else.

Such as the fact that they had a killer to locate before the assassin struck again.

Aquarius slipped into the room quickly. Silently. No one was there except his target, who sat alone at her dressing table. She brushed her long, blond locks and hummed a fair tune while she watched herself in the looking glass.

She was beautiful, he would give her that. With lush, graceful curves that were displayed perfectly by her deep crimson gown.

Relying on his training, he skirted up behind her and grabbed her arm so fast that she opened her mouth to scream.

“Say nothing,” he hissed, pulling back the sleeve of her gown to show him a list in Arabic that was tattooed onto her pale skin. ’Twas similar to the one he carried on his own arm. Only the names were different. “I knew it was you.”

She snatched her arm away from him. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to know why you framed Stryder of Blackmoor for murder.”

She set her brush back on her table and gave him a cool, calculating stare as she lowered her sleeve and relaced it so that the names were no longer visible. “Where are your manners, milord? ’Tis been years since we last saw one another. Have you no kindness for a woman you once took with great passion?”

He winced at her words as he recalled the times they had been forced together for the enjoyment of others. The banquets where they…

“I try my best never to remember those days.”

“Then I’m happy for you. I find they haunt me constantly no matter how much I try to forget them.”

He felt for her, but that didn’t change anything. What she had done was wrong. “You haven’t answered my question.”

She gave him a droll, aggravated stare. “Why do you think? You helped me and I wanted to return the favor.”

“Return what favor?”

“You killed Cyril for me. I didn’t remember who you were until the night I saw you leave his tent. I went inside to fulfill my bargain only to find him already dead. At first, I was terrified. I thought you had been sent to finish my list and me, but once I calmed down, I realized he must have recognized you earlier that night.”

Aquarius looked away in shame. Aye, it was true.
Cyril had known him. The fool had even goaded him when he had awakened to find Aquarius standing over Cyril’s cot. Those taunts had ended the moment Aquarius had shoved his dagger straight into the man’s heart.

“You dropped the note?” he asked her.

“Aye. I went back to retrieve it later, but could find no sign of it.”

He pulled it out of his purse and handed it over to her. “You’d best destroy this before anyone else learns of it and realizes as I did who wrote it.”

She nodded, then tucked it down the front of her crimson gown, between her breasts.

Aquarius stared at her, his gaze burning. “Do me no further favors where the earl is concerned.”

“Nay?” she asked, arching a brow. “Are you aware
Kalb al 'Akrab
is here?”

Aquarius went cold at her words.
The Heart of the Scorpion
was the name of the assassin who had been charged with keeping all of them in line. He was the one they sent in to kill them should they ever betray who and what they were. Damn. The Scorpion and
Kalb al 'Akrab
were no doubt the same person. He should have known that.

But no one knew his name or his likeness. All of their kind who knew him were now dead by his hand.

“Aye,” he breathed. “I found one of his couriers.”

“I recognized him as the Scorpion the moment I saw him,” she said. “Unlike you, he wasn’t kept hidden so much, but rather our captors took great pleasure in trotting him out to abuse.”

“How do you know for certain that he’s
Kalb al 'Akrab
?”

“I know not for certain exactly. But I wasn’t wrong about you being Aquarius, and I know your time for killing Stryder has passed. Remember? I was there the day they let you go and I heard the Saracen guards laughing that soon the Widowmaker would be dead. It was why I tried to frame him. I was hoping that if he were dead, at least you would be free of them and prove to me that they really will let us go once we complete our list.” She looked away as terror filled her eyes. “My worst fear is that they’ll come for us once we fulfill our bargain. I know of no one who has lived through completing their list. Do you?”

“Until you, I had no knowledge of any others assigned my duties. Only
Kalb al 'Akrab
was ever mentioned to me, and I was hoping he was nothing more than a fabrication they made up to keep me in line.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Why haven’t you killed the Widowmaker?”

“The time isn’t right.”

She moved to stand before him, her body rigid with anger. “Have you turned craven? My master said that you were the coldest, most efficient killer of all of us who were sent out. What are you waiting for?”

“What master?”

She stiffened but didn’t answer. “You were lucky. They sent you out alone. The rest of us have those we know watch us. I take my orders often from their messengers.”

A sick feeling went through Aquarius. “Why have they kept themselves from me?”

“They assumed you would complete your mission. Why haven’t you?” she insisted again.

“Why do you care? I thought you and your friends wanted Stryder to live and marry Rowena.”

She scoffed at that. “Think you I want her married? ’Tis bad enough I returned home to the loving bosom of my family.” She spat those words with a hate-filled venom that chilled him. “As soon as my father learned I was no longer virgin and wouldn’t command a high marriage price since I had been used, he quickly ushered me off to her house so that he wouldn’t have to look at me and feel shamed for what had happened because he was careless. Unlike you, I traded one prison for another. The last thing I want is to see Rowena married to a man who will never stay put in this country. He’ll be off on adventure while we are forever locked in Sussex so that she can train her milksops and their idiotic poetry.”

“Elizabeth—”

“Nay,” she said, pulling away from him. “Don’t touch me and don’t use my name. I never want to hear it from your lips.”

He let his hand drop. “Why didn’t you just kill Stryder yourself?”

“I tried, but he would never be alone with me, then I thought that if I became the countess of Blackmoor he might protect me.”

“So you killed another Brotherhood member to frame him?” he asked, trying to understand her motivation.

“Aye. Roger was the one who raped Mary.”

Aquarius winced as he recalled the night the Broth
erhood members had fled the prison. A small group of them had been sent to set them free. Instead, they had taken their pleasure of them and then left them locked in their cells while they returned to the others with false tales of how the whores were all dead.

For years he had hated all the Brotherhood members. Who wouldn’t? After their escape those of them left behind had been ravaged by their enemies.

Mary had died during one of her punishments after the Brotherhood had fled. She had been a timid woman. Small and delicate. The Saracens had crushed her like a frail flower.

To this day, Aquarius lived only to have enough strength to return to their prison and kill the ones responsible. Unfortunately, he doubted he would ever have the chance.

“I took great pleasure in killing Roger,” Elizabeth snarled. “And I would have taken greater pleasure in seeing Stryder die too.”

“He suffers enough.”

She curled her lips at him. “What do you know of it? There will never be enough suffering where he is concerned. We are the ones who suffered most back then and still do. Tell me truthfully, is there a night that goes by where your nightmares don’t haunt you?”

“Aye,” he lied. “I gave enough of my life to those demons. I refuse to give them anymore.” At least he tried his best to live by that. During the light of day it was easy.

It was only at night when he slept that he couldn’t banish the nightmares.

“I’m happy for you,” she said snidely. “I can never
forget what was done to me. Know you that I can’t even have children now? They brutalized me so savagely after the one time I was pregnant at their hands that in all this time, I have never conceived again. Never.” Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

Aquarius wanted to comfort her, but he knew she was past that. Nor would she welcome his touch and the unwanted emotions it would no doubt evoke. As one of the few males in her ward, he had listened to the women as they suffered through their pregnancies and had even helped to deliver some of their babies.

Elizabeth in particular had had a difficult time birthing her son.

“Is your son still in Outremer?”

She nodded. “They hold him as guarantee that I will complete my mission. I shudder every time I think of him in their care. There’s no telling what lies they are filling his head with. Or what they do to him.”

Rage filled him. Her son would only be around seven or eight years old now.

“I’ll get him for you.”

She laughed aloud at that. “As if you could. If you return, they’ll see you dead. Indeed, I know I am right, and that
Kalb al 'Akrab
is here to kill you.”

“It’ll take more than him to kill me.”

She snorted at that. “Boastful men. Braggarts. It’s all any of your kind are, and I’ve had enough of it. If you won’t kill Stryder, I will, lest they tire of waiting and come to reclaim us. His life is not worth whatever freedom I do have.”

Aquarius gave her a hard, meaningful stare. “I won’t let you kill him.”

“Nay?” she asked in disbelief. “And if I tell him who you are?”

“I will see you dead first.”

“Rowena?”

Rowena paused at the deep-timbered voice that sent a shiver down her spine. It was one she hadn’t expected to hear addressing her ever again.

Turning about slowly, she faced Damien St. Cyr. “Milord,” she said, curtsying before him.

“There’s no need to be so formal, milady. Or cold. I didn’t kill your knight, after all.”

There was something different about Damien this afternoon. Something more relaxed and calm.

Like Stryder, he’d changed out of his armor. Now he wore a gray tunic with a crimson and gold surcoat and black hose beneath his voluminous black cloak.

“It seems God has indeed judged him innocent.”

She thought she detected a note of bitterness in Damien’s voice. “I hope you weren’t hurt much, milord.”

“Only my pride, which has been wounded so often that I am sure it will heal from this, too.” He bowed to her. “I’ll take my leave of you, milady. I only wanted to apologize once more for my curt, unchivalrous behavior toward you yesterday when you came to see me.”

“Think nothing of it, milord.”

“Damien,” he said, his voice seductive. “Please, call me Damien.”

Rowena curtsied and inclined her head to him.

Damien
tsked
at her. “You are suspicious of me?”

“Do you blame me?” she asked.

He laughed at that. A deep, hypnotic sound. “And you don’t even try to deny it.”

“Should I?”

“Most do. I have to say I find your honesty refreshing.” She had a distinct feeling he was smiling at her and it truly bothered her that she could see no hint of his face.

“Good day, milady. May it lay treasures at your feet.”

She frowned as he walked off and left her standing in the middle of the hall.

She didn’t move until she heard another voice just behind her.

“Whatever did he want with you?” Zenobia asked as she moved forward to stand by Rowena’s side.

The two of them watched as Damien vanished through the door, headed somewhere outside the castle.