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

by Laurel O'Donnell

  An entire water way? Coin was evidently not a problem for the count. “There is nothing that you can contribute that will sway me or my future wife.” He moved to the doorway. “Our past is just that. Our past.” Damien stalked from the room. These two were going to be trouble.

  Chapter Three

  More guests had arrived. Thankfully, no one Damien knew or recognized from his days at Castle Roke. No one from his past. He gazed out the window over the lands of Acquitaine. In the darkness, it looked like a different land. A land from his nightmares. In the dark, many things looked the same. He could almost hear the distant cries from the tortured souls at Castle Roke.

  He glanced over his shoulder. Aurora lay in the bed, a beam of moonlight falling over her, illuminating her like an angel. She lay on her stomach, one arm bent over her head, the other at her side. She was naked, a blanket pulled over the bottom half of her glorious body. Her golden hair lay in waves of curls around her head and on her back.

  She was the only good thing he had ever known. She had saved him in every possible way. She still did. He thought sometimes he would go mad with memories. And then he would see her, looking at him, sleeping beside him. The memories would fade and all that was left was his love of her. His all-consuming love of her. He was so afraid of losing her, so afraid that one day she would wake up and realize he was not worthy. Or that all of this would be some wonderful dream and he was still chained in the bowels of the dungeon at Castle Roke.

  With every arrival of strangers, the feeling to run grew stronger in him. He wanted desperately to whisk Aurora away and disappear into the darkness that had so sheltered him in the past. But she didn’t belong in the darkness. And he could never take her away from this life, from her people. She belonged here, looked up to by every single one of them. Praised, worshipped, adored.

  He turned away to the window again. It felt like his world was falling apart. With the arrival of his father and then the count and countess. His past was catching up with him. He couldn’t have her. She was too good for a man like him. A man with such darkness inside him.

  Damien clenched his teeth. She loved him. She reminded him every day. And he would not disappoint her. He would not run any more. He was to be lord of Acquitaine. It was what she wanted. And he wanted to be with her. He would face whatever came his way. And he would be ready. But to do so, he had to be strong. He was becoming soft. Roke had reminded him many times that complacency was death.

  It was a mistake he would not make. With a backward glance at Aurora, he dressed and strapped on his sword before he left the room.

  Again, Aurora looked at the door. It had become their routine. Damien would come to her room at night, and spend the evening with her. But before daybreak, he would return to his own room. While she surmised most of the castle folk knew they slept together, she didn’t want it to be obvious. She still needed to set an example for her people.

  Jennifer combed her hair into a braid of restraint. She was silent this morning. She knew who Aurora was waiting for.

  Damien would always return and escort her to break her fast. But he had never been this late.

  “I’m sure he will be here any moment,” Jennifer said in a whisper. “He is probably speaking to Sir Rupert about the men at arms. You know how diligent he is regarding protection.”

  Aurora looked into the mirror. She was done dressing and her hair was finished. There was sadness in her eyes that she could not let her people see. She took a deep breath. She could no longer hold off going to the Great Hall to break her fast. She nodded and rose. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. Had something happened to him? She stepped out into the hallway.

  Rupert bowed slightly. “Good morning, m’lady.”

  “Good morning, Sir Rupert,” she responded. She looked down the hallway, but Damien was not there. She stood for a moment, indecisively. She wanted to go to his room and make sure he had simply over slept. But would he think of her as insecure? Would he think she was trying to be controlling of him?

  “I thought I had erased that scowl of concern.”

  Aurora whirled. Damien strode toward her. Her breath left her in a silent sigh. She looked him over, making sure he was not hurt. His black boots hugged his calves, his black leggings tight over his muscled thighs. He still wore black from head to toe, his tunic form fitting, allowing a hint at the power beneath. His sword was strapped to his waist. His black hair came to the tops of his shoulders. Aurora lifted her chin, resisting the desire to throw her arms around him. “You are late, m’lord.”

  A grin tugged Damien’s lips as he stared down at her as though she were the center of his world. “It will not happen again.”

  “Make sure it does not.” Aurora turned to head down the hallway, allowing Jennifer and Rupert to take the lead. She leaned in toward Damien, her shoulder brushing his arm. Damien glanced at her, his gaze sweeping over her face.

  There was something there. Something that made the scowl return to Aurora’s brow. “Is everything all right?”

  He nodded, but did not meet her gaze.

  Aurora was unconvinced. As they approached the Great Hall, they heard a commotion in the hallway ahead. Shouts came from the corridor. A woman servant rounded the corner and came to a sliding halt. “Sir Rupert!” Her eyes were wide. She looked at Aurora. “Two knights are fighting in the castle.”

  Rupert rushed forward, following the servant girl. Jennifer ran after them. Aurora moved to go, too, but Damien grabbed her arm. “Wait here.”

  She opened her mouth to object.

  “Rupert can handle this.”

  “These are my people.”

  “Not just your people. Not anymore. There are guests arriving, strangers –”

  “Damien!” she insisted. She took his hand in hers. “This is my castle. Our castle. Fighting inside is not allowed. The people are looking to us now to see how we will rule.”

  Damien grit his teeth.

  “This cannot be allowed.”

  He cursed beneath his breath and released her hand, moving toward the shouts and murmurs with a purposeful stride.

  Aurora followed, having to hurry to keep up with his rushed pace. They moved into the spiral stairway. As soon as they emerged into the main hallway, they saw a line of peasants and servants all facing in one direction, some strained to see above the heads of others. Merchants and shop owners stood before them, closer to the spectacle.

  Aurora could hear the sound of swords clanging, echoing through the hallway.

  Damien paused at the first step, then glanced back at her. Their eyes met and locked. The scowl he wore and his tight lips were testament to his displeasure. He moved forward, having to work his way through the people. Aurora followed. As the onlookers saw them, they gave way with slight bows or greetings of ‘m’lord’ and ‘m’lady’.

  Damien paused at the front of the circle beside Rupert. He spoke to Rupert, but Aurora couldn’t hear what he said over the shouts and encouragement from the crowd. Damien again looked back at her, his gaze sweeping her from head to toe. He leaned in and spoke again to Rupert. Rupert glanced back at Aurora and then nodded at Damien.

  Aurora could only surmise that Damien told Rupert to stay with her.

  He moved forward, into the open circle of the two fighting knights.

  Aurora recognized one of the two men as a young knight named Thomas. The other knight she didn’t recognize. He must have come with the count and countess or Lord Knowles and his wife who had arrived late last night. Tingles of trepidation danced across the nape of her neck as Damien approached them.

  The crowd quieted to hear his words until only the ting of swords meeting in the hallway sounded.

  When the two knights saw him, they stilled with their swords crossed before them.

  Thomas looked torn. His gaze shifted from Damien to the knight and back. “Take heed, m’lord.”

  Aurora moved forward, but Rupert caught her arm. When she looked at him, he shook his head.


  “Put down your weapons,” Damien ordered. “There is no sword fighting inside the castle.”

  Thomas began to lower his sword, but when the visiting knight did not, he brought his back up again.

  “You are not my lord,” the knight answered bitterly. “I only take orders from him.”

  Damien stepped up to Thomas’s side. “You are a guest here in Acquitaine. If you do not lower your weapon, I will see that you are banned from its borders.”

  “And who are you that you have this authority?”

  Damien narrowed his eyes. “Sir Damien. But you know that, don’t you?”

  The knight grimaced, and suddenly Damien pushed Thomas backward and drew his sword to counter the knight’s strike to his heart.

  Chapter Four

  Damien sidestepped the blow as he pulled out his sword. He hit the knight’s weapon, knocking it aside. He couldn’t concentrate on what was going on around him, not the shifting crowd, nor even Aurora. He had to watch this knight, his every move. He allowed the beast inside of him, the one he had thought buried and captured, to emerge from his cage. He could not allow disobedience. He would not allow it in his home, nor in his guests.

  “There are many who say you do not have the blood line–”

  That was all the knight got out before Damien attacked, reining blows down upon him. The knight defended himself, but was not able to talk. That was fine with Damien.

  He pushed him back to the wall before the knight swung his blade. Damien arced his body away from the blow, which was too close. He had to be more diligent. The second swing was expected and Damien countered it, then stepped in to punch the knight in the face. The knight's nose erupted in a gush of blood.

  Damien ducked the next swing and kicked the knight back. He fell into the crowd, which parted for the falling knight with cries of alarm.

  Damien clutched his sword tightly, waiting for the angry knight to rise. The knight had gotten lucky with the one blow. It would not happen again.

  The knight shoved himself to his feet and whirled, facing Damien, panting, furious.

  It was enough. He would make mistakes.

  He lunged toward Damien, his sword held high in the air. It would be too easy to kill him. Instead, Damien sidestepped the blow and then ducked the following swing. He needed to finish it so no one questioned his authority again. He caught the next swing with his sword, sliding up to the hilt. He captured the knight’s hand to the hilt, holding it tight. The knight did the same. Instead of struggling for control, Damien used the knight’s own weight. He leaned back and flipped the knight over his head. He jumped to his feet, and before the knight had time to recover he stomped his hand on the knight’s sword arm, trapping it on the floor.

  Damien put his sword to the knight’s throat. “Blood line or no, Aurora chose me.” He pushed his booted foot onto the knight’s wrist until his fingers opened, releasing the sword. Damien kicked it across the room into the wall. He kept his sword to the knight’s throat. “Rupert,” he ordered.

  When Rupert moved forward with two men at arms, Damien removed his sword from the knight's throat and sheathed it.

  “Damien!” Aurora cried and came toward him.

  The crowd around him began to disperse at Rupert’s commands. That’s when Damien became aware of the familiar sting in his side. He had been cut. Weak, Roke would call him. Damien grit his teeth, pushing the image from his mind. He turned away and started down the hallway, away from Aurora. He didn’t want her to see his wound, to see his limitation, his humiliation.

  He hurried to his room, away from the crowd, away from the onlookers. He took the stairs two at a time and moved down the hallway to his room. Once he had closed the door behind him, sealing out the world, he looked down at his tunic. It was soaked with his blood. He lifted his tunic over his head.

  A thin line on his left side oozed blood, running down his side to his breeches.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Damien.”

  Damien moved over to the basin of water on the table beside his bed. He dipped a cloth into it, soaking up water. He dabbed at the cut, hissing as the cool water touched his hot wound, washing the blood away.

  “Damien?”

  Angry with himself at being so weak, and unable to protect himself, he snapped, “Go away.” He clenched his teeth against the agony flaring up from his side. It wasn’t life threatening, but probably needed stitches. He should have been able to disarm the knight. He should never have let it come this far. But he felt trapped. Trapped between two lives. Lord and assassin. He dipped his head over the water, his fingers clenching the table tight. The problem was, he felt more comfortable as an assassin.

  His reflection in the water rippled with uncertainty.

  Aurora stood outside the door. Go away. They were words he had never said to her before. Uncertainty tingled throughout her body. Misgivings spread doubt through her mind. She had never loved anyone as much as she did Damien. He had saved her; he had always been there for her. And now… Go away.

  She stepped away from the door. Why would he say that to her? She had just wanted to make sure he was all right. She lifted her chin. She was lady of Acquitaine. She didn’t have time for self doubt. She needed to be a figurehead to her people. She turned and walked away down the hallway. She had guests to attend to.

  Damien was the only one she had left. With the passing of her father, she had no family left. The bond of family had always been strong for her. She loved her father. And she missed him desperately. It was during times like these, of insecurity and doubt, that she would seek him out to talk. But he was gone and she felt a keen sense of loneliness.

  She paused at the stairway to glance back at Damien’s door. Not all of her family was gone. Damien was her family now. And even if he had told her to go away, there were other members of his family in the castle. Damien’s family was hers, too, now. Gawyn was the brother she never had. Damien had started out unforgiving of him, too. He had wanted nothing to do with Gawyn when he first arrived at Acquitaine. But now, they were close.

  There was one other person she wanted to make amends with. One other member of Damien’s family. She turned her steps toward the lower part of the castle.

  Aurora wanted desperately to have his father be like hers. But she steeled herself, knowing he was not. He had sold Damien into slavery when he was a boy. She descended the dark stone stairs into the bleakness, following the dungeon guard. The guard was a big burly man, his forearms larger than a tree’s trunk. He held a torch high above his head.

  The smell of body odor wafted to her. Somewhere from the bottom of the stairs, beyond the torchlight, she heard scurrying noises. The drip drip of water came from the murkiness and the air around her grew thicker the lower they moved.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the guard paused and turned to her. His gaze swept over her.

  Aurora was embarrassed she did not know this guard’s name. She prided herself on such things, but she had never seen him before.

  “Ya shouldn’t be down here, m’lady. This isn’t fer the likes of ya.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” Aurora said kindly. “May I ask your name?”

  The guard looked at her in surprise.

  “I believe this is the first time we have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

  The guard’s brows rose in his round face. He scratched his head. “There was once, m’lady, when you were but a young girl. I was making my way ta the Keep, crossing the inner ward. Ya raced right into me.”

  “Did I hurt you?”

  The guard grinned. “Naw. Ya apologized. No one had ever apologized to me before.” His lips twisted wistfully. “And yer hair. It shined like sunlight.” His gaze shifted to her hair at the top of her head. “It gets awfully dark down here. I like to remember how your hair shines like the sun when I’m down here in the dark.”

  Aurora felt a stab of pity for him. She laid her hand on his beefy wrist. “That is very kind of you.” />
  He bobbed his head.

  "I'd like to see the prisoner now, if you don't mind. The old man."

  The guard scowled and bobbed his head before turning to continue down the dark hallway, the circle of light cutting the darkness like a blade.

  “Wait,” Aurora said and her voice echoed off of the walls.

  The guard turned.

  “Your name. You haven’t told me what it is.”

  “Bruno,” he said and turned to lead her down the hallway. He stopped at the first cell. “We don’t get many prisoners down here.”

  Aurora nodded and looked at the cell door. A small window, lined with bars was the only way to see in.

  Bruno pulled the lock back and opened the door. It creaked as he pulled it open. He thrust the torch inside, lighting up the center of the small cell. He stepped inside, holding the door for her.

  Aurora entered after him. Her eyes scanned the cell. The floor was dirt; cobwebs hung from the ceiling.

  Bruno swatted a cobweb aside, away from her. He jerked his chin toward the wall.

  Aurora turned. Sitting against the wall with his knees pulled up and his arms resting on them, sat a hunched man. Around his wrists were thick iron bands.

  She walked up to him.

  “Careful, m’lady,” Bruno warned.

  She stood over the man for a long moment. His clothing seemed to be well cared for; the edges were sewn and maybe even new. His boots looked scuffed and worn, but there were no holes she could see. His fingers hung over his knees, long and wrinkled. His dark hair was peppered with gray.

  “You smell like flowers.” The voice was old and gravelly. He lifted his eyes to her. His face was gaunt, his lips thin.

  She knelt before him, to be eye level with him. She could see the similarity with Damien, in his eyes, the set of his jaw. And even Gawyn shared his cheekbones and nose. “Why have you come here to Acquitaine?”

  “My son was getting married. How could I not? Are you Lady Aurora?”