Angel's Assassin (4 page)

Aurora gasped and covered her mouth at the
horrific sight, as if her fingers could stop the terrified cry
rising in her throat.

Complete silence filled the square as the
dark man pulled his blade from the attacker’s stomach.

The man in green fell forward to his knees,
clutching at the gaping wound as blood seeped through his
fingers.

Aurora sat up and kicked at the ground,
pushing herself away from the attacker as he toppled face first
into the dusty road, landing only a few feet from her. Dead. He
still clutched the dagger in one hand. His open eyes stared at her
with an eerie dark light seeming to come from somewhere deep inside
him. They terrified her, but she was even more frightened the man
would spring back to life and lunge at her again with his dagger.
Blood continued to flow from his body, spilling over the dirt
street in small rivulets, snaking toward her. She pushed herself
back from the red tendrils of liquid as it collected around the
wilted yellow flower she had just been offered.

Jonathan! She searched the surrounding crowd
for the boy and found him staring with wide eyes from behind the
legs of the miller. She followed his stare back to the tainted
flower and red liquid pooling about it.

He tried to kill me! Shivers peppered her
arms and hysteria threatened to pull her into darkness. Aurora
lifted panicked eyes to the tall, dark stranger. He was dressed in
black from the leather boots clinging to his muscled calves, to the
breeches hugging his powerful thighs, and up to the tunic opening
at his neck to give a glimpse of his strong chest. His thick black
hair hung to his shoulders in effortless waves. His dark eyes were
like onyx. At first glance, they were soulless, as cold and as
eerie as the dead man’s lying within an arm’s reach of her. A
fleeting niggling of familiarity tugged at the back of her memory.
Before her shocked mind could place him, he lifted his hand and
held it out to her, palm up.

She shifted her stare from his strong hand
back to his eyes and saw something else in his mysterious orbs,
something deep inside calling to her, beckoning. For a moment, she
felt as though he was asking for something from her, as though he
needed her. Her soul answered with calm assurance, pushing aside
her own fear. She raised her trembling fingers toward his, drawn
inexplicably to his offered hand.

“Stand back!” Captain Trane shouted. He
appeared in front of her, a large stick in hand. He knocked her
outstretched hand aside with his hip, blocking her view of her
rescuer.

Aurora angled her head so she could see the
dark stranger beyond Captain Trane.

The stranger’s lip curled in a feral snarl
and he lifted his weapon.

Captain Trane half turned to Aurora. “My
lady,” he said, offering her a hand. “Are you hurt?”

Aurora accepted his help, and he pulled her
gently up to her feet. “He saved my life,” she said in wonder.

Captain Trane turned back to the
stranger.

As the stranger shifted his gaze from Captain
Trane to her, the contempt burning deep in his eyes seemed to fade
and then vanish completely. He lowered his weapon, straightening to
his full height. He was a good head taller than Aurora, his
shoulders broad and strong. He watched her speculatively.

Some might consider his black eyes evil and
demonic, but Aurora thought they were beautifully unique. They
mesmerized her and intrigued her, and also somehow managed to
instill peace in her.

Captain Trane knelt beside the dead man. “Do
you know him, m’lady?”

As Aurora looked down at her would-be
assassin, her heart began to pound again and her entire body
trembled with fear. He tried to kill her. But why? She had done
nothing to harm anyone, had done nothing to make such a vicious
enemy. “No,” she whispered.

The stranger stepped before her, blocking her
view of the dead man. He bent down beside Captain Trane and quickly
searched the corpse, removing a pouch from beneath the dead man’s
green tunic and a long, thin blade from his boot. He tied the pouch
at his waist and slid the dagger beneath his leather belt. The
stranger used the dead assassin’s green tunic to wipe the blood
from his sword. He rose and scanned the area.

Aurora followed his gaze. Around them, the
crowd of villagers grew, whisperings rustling through them. “What
is it?” she asked nervously.

“You should leave now,” he said softly.

His words, issued with a commanding tone of
warning, sent shivers of concern racing down Aurora’s spine. She
looked at Captain Trane in confusion.

Trane, a squat, stocky man with a dour face,
stared at the stranger with knit brows. His brown eyes burned with
a desire to do the best he could, to protect her. “Here now,” Trane
objected to the stranger. “The danger is over. Lady Aurora is
safe.”

“I’ve dealt with his kind before. These
assassins sometimes travel in pairs or groups of three, maybe
more.” He shook the pouch he took from the dead man and it jangled
loudly, clearly full of coin. “If this was just the down payment on
Lady Aurora’s head, the full price is likely enough to feed a dozen
men for a month.”

Aurora paled. More assassins?

Sir Rupert raced up the street toward Aurora,
pushing his way through the gathered crowd, his sword drawn. Sir
Rupert’s young face turned as bright red as the Acquitaine heraldry
on his tunic as he faced his commander. “I’m sorry, Captain.” His
breath came in quick gasps. “I was looking to buy Lord Gabriel some
fresh cider---”

Captain Trane continued to scan the square.
“Lady Aurora will be returning to the castle.”

Aurora clenched her hands in a tight knot
before her. Farmers and peasants gathered nearby, lifting concerned
glances in her direction. She recognized many faces. But some she
did not. A shiver coursed through her body. She looked at the dead
man again. Am I to end up like Mother? Fear spiraled through her,
coiling around her, threatening to steal her calm disposition and
leave her the weeping, frightened child of seven years ago. But
when she met the stranger’s gaze once again, his dark eyes infused
her with a calming peace, banishing any terror. “I thank you for
the great deed of bravery you performed here,” she said to him.

The man gazed at her with dark intensity. It
was as if he could not stop staring at her, as if he were confused
by something.

“I would like to reward you.”

“You should be more concerned with your own
safety,” the stranger advised.

His voice, deep and powerful, resonated
through Aurora. “You saved my life,” she stated simply.

Rupert began to disperse the villagers around
them, waving his hands in the air and commanding them to, “Move
along.”

Captain Trane took hold of her arm. “My
lady,” he whispered. “We need to return to the castle.” He guided
her down the road.

As the distance between her and the stranger
grew, something akin to panic stirred inside Aurora. She broke free
of Captain Trane’s hold and returned to the stranger. “You will
accompany us?”

The stranger hesitated. He lifted his head to
stare thoughtfully at the horizon. His dark hair shifted slightly
in a gentle breeze, brushing his strong jaw. When he again looked
at Aurora, his eyes shone hard and distant. He opened his mouth as
if to answer, but then remained silent as his gaze swept from her
eyes to her lips with a languid stroke. When his stare reached her
lips, his brow furrowed and he closed his mouth. He nodded his
head.

Aurora realized she had been holding her
breath, worried he would decline. Upon his acceptance, she smiled
brightly. “What is your name?” she asked.

“Damien.”

“Damien,” she repeated, testing his name on
her tongue. She nodded, acceptingly. “You will be welcomed in
Acquitaine as a hero.”

Aurora moved on and did not hear him whisper,
“Not by all.”

D
amien had
been in many luxurious castles in his life, but the opulence of
Castle Acquitaine stunned him. Rich, colorful tapestries lined
almost every wall, depicting battlefield victories amongst other
scenes of triumph and glory. Where the walls were bare, suits of
expensive armor stood, filling the gaps as silent, steel sentries.
The floor in the corridor was made of individually painted stones
laid down in perfect symmetry. Even the sconces on the walls were
carved with meticulous detail.

Damien’s gaze settled on the woman walking
before him. Raised from birth in such a wealthy environment, she
could be nothing more than a pampered princess. He had met dozens
like her at Castle Roke. They lived in luxury, ate in luxury,
crapped in luxury. Coddled. Spoiled. Indulgent. And yet…

The peasants loved this woman. How could they
not? Certainly, her appearance was… breathtaking. Even now, Damien
found himself captivated by the slight swing of her golden braid,
like a coil of precious gold swaying at the whim of the goddess it
served. Every strand of her hair was neatly plaited in the braid,
not one daring to free itself from the confines. Damien refused to
believe her personality matched her beauty. That was not the way of
life. There was always a balance. Beautiful people were arrogant
and vain. Or evil inside. If the beauty was outside, then
malevolence festered within. Especially if they grew up with this
kind of wealth. Just as Warin Roke had.

As Damien followed Aurora through the
hallways, every man she passed turned to watch her. Sometimes they
greeted her with a humble bow, sometimes with a smile and a
gracious “m’lady,” but all their gazes lingered longingly on her as
she moved past them. Even the women would go out of their way to
greet her. He wondered how many enemies her beauty had made
her.

They entered through an open double door into
the expansive Great Hall. Large cathedral ceilings arched far above
Damien’s head. Two hearths paralleled each other on opposite ends
of the room, one burning low, the other extinguished.

Damien was so used to finding an escape route
out of every room he entered that it was instinctive to linger in
the doorway and scan his surroundings. A door stood at the opposite
end of the Great Hall, behind the dais. It probably led to the
kitchens. Another archway located to his right on a sidewall opened
up to a stairway.

The Great Hall was empty except for one woman
crossing the room carrying mugs, and a group of men huddled about a
wooden table on the far side of the room, near the warm fire. They
looked over a piece of parchment spread out on the table before
them.

Tension raced through Damien’s shoulders,
tightening his muscles. His suspicious gaze lingered on the men.
Guards. Soldiers. Knights. Alarms sounded in his mind. Every nerve
in his body went on alert. Would they recognize him? What was he
thinking coming to the castle? Now was not the time to draw
attention to himself.

Aurora’s footsteps quickened as she raced
toward the group of men. “Father!”

The four men looked up. A sudden urge to
vacate the stone building gripped Damien, but he remained
absolutely still, keeping his expression an impassive mask.

One man separated from the group and came
forward to greet Aurora. Lord Gabriel of Acquitaine towered over
his daughter, elegant in his perfectly fitted blue velvet jupon. He
commanded obedience with a mere glance of his blue eyes. He smiled
through a gray beard that was trimmed to perfection and extended
his arms to Aurora.

Aurora embraced him.

He kissed the top of her head. “You are back
so early,” her father said in a strong, authoritative voice.

Captain Trane puffed out his chest, cleared
his throat and stepped forward. “Lord Gabriel, there was an
incident.”

“Incident?” Lord Gabriel repeated, releasing
his daughter, his brow furrowing. “What sort of incident?”

Damien eyed the men at the table. He did not
recognize any of their faces, but the rigidity did not ease from
his body.

Silence stretched through the room as Captain
Trane fidgeted beneath his lord’s harsh stare.

Aurora came to his rescue. “A man attacked
me.”

“Attacked you?!” Outrage widened her father’s
eyes.

“But Damien fought him off. Isn’t that right,
Captain Trane?”

Damien remained calmly positioned at the
doorway, ready to slip away into the shadows.

“Aye,” Captain Trane responded quickly. “He
risked his life to save Lady Aurora.”

“Attacked you?” Lord Gabriel repeated,
staring down in bafflement at his daughter. He shook his head,
perplexed. “Surely, there is some mistake. No one would harm
you.”

“M’lord,” Trane said tensely, “I was only
steps behind her and the assassin came out of the crowd…”

“Assassin?” Lord Gabriel’s look darkened. His
brows furrowed in rage and his jaw tightened. “Who is this assassin
who dares try to harm you? Where is this man so that I may stretch
him on the rack!”

Captain Trane glanced at Aurora and then Lord
Gabriel. “He is dead, m’lord.”

Lord Gabriel seemed to relax. “You killed
him? Well done. I –”

“Damien killed him,” Aurora corrected.

“Damien? Who the devil is this Damien?”

All eyes shifted to Damien, curious and
suspicious. His jaw clenched as apprehension slithered through his
entire body. He forced his hand to remain at his side instead of
fisting over the pommel of his sword. Would someone recognize him?
He silently cursed himself for coming to the castle. He should have
stayed in the shadows where he belonged.

Lord Gabriel scanned Damien from head to toe,
assessing, and stepped past Aurora and Captain Trane to walk toward
him.

Damien stood stoically in the huge doorway.
He had been unwelcome in so many castles, as ostracized as Death
himself. He wasn’t quite sure what to do.