Angel's Assassin (30 page)

“No, no,” Gawyn insisted. “I found it –”

Damien slammed a fist into Gawyn’s stomach.
“She could have died in that cave!”

Gawyn doubled over, groaning. “No. I found
the ring –”

“That’s why you were wet,” Damien growled,
pushing him back into the trunk with enough force to make Gawyn’s
head spin. “You weren’t looking for her. You were tying her in that
cold cave and leaving a trail for me.”

Gawyn moaned and a tumultuous smile touched
his lips. “I was just watching your back.”

Fury swept over Damien. He smashed a tight
fist into Gawyn’s jaw and his brother spun to his hands and knees.
Damien followed with a kick to his ribs. “Just like you watched my
back on the Redemption?”

Gawyn flew over onto his back with a
grunt.

Damien pursued him, infuriated. He dared to
lay hands on Aurora?! He endangered her life, left her to die! With
a wild cry, he lashed out with his foot again, catching Gawyn in
the side. Gawyn curled into the blow. When Damien went to punish
him again with a savage kick, Gawyn caught his foot and pushed him
back.

Gawyn climbed to his feet, spitting out a wad
of blood. “That was a long time ago, Damien. I came back for
you.”

“A little bit too late,” Damien growled,
recovering and approaching his brother again.

Gawyn backed away from Damien, holding his
sore side. “I came back as soon as I could.” He ducked behind a
tree.

“After Roke bought me. After Roke trained
me.” He jerked right, but pulled up as Gawyn kept the tree between
them.

“I didn’t hurt her!”

“Didn’t hurt her?” Damien dodged around the
tree, reaching for Gawyn. “She was almost dead when I found
her!”

Gawyn skirted the trunk, avoiding Damien’s
hold. “I didn’t think it would take you so long to find her.”

Damien stopped chasing Gawyn and clenched his
teeth. “Why did you take her?”

Gawyn straightened, preparing for Damien’s
next lunge.

“What did you want with her?” Damien
demanded.

Gawyn sighed. He stepped from behind the tree
to face his brother. “I wanted you to realize how much she meant to
you.”

The straw mattress. The blankets. It had been
a trap. “Why?”

Gawyn bridled. “Because… because, damn it,
you want her. And she wants you. The two of you belong together and
I wanted you to be happy. For once, I wanted you to have what you
wanted.”

Damien jerked toward him, angry. “How would
you know what I want?”

Gawyn didn’t flinch away from him. “Because
you couldn’t kill her. And because you’re my brother.”

They stood for a long moment, face to
face.

Damien’s jaw tightened furiously; his eyes
narrowed.

Finally, Gawyn backed down, nodding. He
rubbed a hand across his mouth, wiping away a trickle of blood.
“I’ve watched your back for a long time now. I killed a man in the
castle who knew who you were to help you.”

“I never asked for your help.”

Gawyn shook his head. “Don’t give her up.
I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Don’t abandon her. She needs
you now.”

“I would never abandon Aurora. I’m not like
you. I’m not some young scared brother who leaves his own kin to be
whipped so he can escape.”

“No! You’re some stubborn old goat who
harbors a debt I can never repay. And who is leaving the woman he
loves to die!”

Rage burned in Damien’s veins. His fists
clenched tightly at his sides. “I’m doing what I have to do.”

Gawyn nodded, solemnly. “Just like I
did.”

Damien shoved closer to Gawyn, wanting to
pummel him for daring to compare them. “I’m not like you. I’m doing
this to save her. So she has the freedom I never had. The freedom
you stole from me.”

Gawyn straightened, his hand falling away
from his side. “I made a mistake when I was young and not a day
goes by when I don’t regret it. I should have stayed. I should have
fought. I never should have left you. But I was young and scared
and… stupid! And the brother I left is too arrogant and selfish to
ever forgive me. So I don’t ask anymore.”

Damien stared at Gawyn. Damn it. Damn him for
making him feel guilty. I won’t feel guilty, Damien raged silently.
Gawyn left me. But all this time… has he been trying to atone for
it? Bullshit. He is a lying dog. He lied then. He would lie
now.

Gawyn backed away from Damien. “Don’t make
the same mistake I made because she won’t be around to forgive
you.”

Damien watched him back away. He cursed
silently. Gawyn was his brother. But that didn’t give him the right
to abandon him on the Redemption. And it didn’t give him the right
to steal Aurora and almost kill her to prove a point. But it did
give him the right to make mistakes.

Gawyn hesitated a moment, then turned and
moved off into the forest.

It was Damien’s own selfish pride that kept
him from calling out to Gawyn, from giving his brother the
forgiveness he sought. He glanced down at his clenched fists and
slowly uncurled his fingers. The ring was not there. He must have
dropped it in the heat of the fight. He glanced about the forest
floor. In what little light there was, he saw the ground was
littered with thick leaves and brush and churned up dirt from their
scuffle. He would never find it. He didn’t have time to waste doing
it now. The damned cursed ring that had started it all was finally
gone, lost in the woods forever.

T
here was no
way to sneak into Castle Roke. Roke made sure of that. He never
trusted anyone enough to build a postern. People might find it and
escape. Castle Roke was more a prison than a fortress.

There was only one way into Castle
Roke. Straight through the front gate. Damien urged Imp onto the
drawbridge. The rounded turrets of Castle Roke glowed red in the
setting sun, making them appear bloody and ominous. Cages of death
hung from the castle walls. A man, weak from lack of food and
water, called out to Damien from inside the cage, stretching his
thin hand toward him. Damien did not look at him. He only gave him
a silent promise:
It will not be long,
friend
. On the other side of the drawbridge, a cage
imprisoned a decaying corpse, a final reminder to the living of the
consequences of failure.

Damien urged Imp beneath the raised
portcullis with a gentle kick of his heels. The guards on the
parapet above recognized him. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if
the cry of alarm would sound and a dozen men would swarm out to
surround him, but they gave him access to the castle just as they
had always done upon his return from a mission. They knew his face,
but they did not know the dark thoughts that lay beneath. This
single mission was all he thought about. He was focused. Calm. The
way he had been taught to kill.

Roke would be in his solar, preparing for the
evening meal. Rumor had spread amongst the men that he bathed in
the blood of his enemies before eating. Damien didn’t give a damn
if it was true or not. He was not here for rumors. He was here to
end a legacy of torture.

Damien brought Imp to a halt and dismounted
before the keep. He looked up at the tall stone tower, his gaze
moving up its three stories.

A small boy with uncombed, stringy brown hair
raced out of the stables to take Imp’s reins.

Damien met the boy’s hopeless stare. In his
mind’s eye, Damien remembered the boy in Castle Acquitaine, the one
he saw playing in the hall with Aurora. The Acquitaine boy had been
happy, laughing and smiling, playing a child’s game. Such a
different life. Quickly, Damien pushed the image from his mind. He
couldn’t think of that. He had to concentrate on his new mission.
Nothing would prevent him from its completion.

The boy reached out to touch his hand.
Instinctively, Damien yanked his limb from the boy’s grasp. In
Roke’s castle, a touch could mean the difference between life and
death. He glanced sharply at the boy.

The boy stared at him through dirty brown
strands. For the briefest of moments, Damien saw something flicker
in the child’s brown eyes. Could it have been a spark of hope?
Aurora had changed him. He was different now. He saw hope. He saw
what could be. But the look was gone from the boy’s eyes before
Damien had time to figure out what it was. The boy pulled back,
cowering from Damien as if a mere glance from him would scorch his
young skin.

Damien took the two steps at the doorway to
the keep in one stride and entered the tall doors as he had
numerous times before. Never had he entered to finish things; it
had only been to report on a completed mission, not end it.
Although it had crossed his mind like a fleeting breeze, he had
never walked into the keep with the intent to kill those he found
inside. Now, he was determined to do just that. Aurora’s life was
at stake. He could not fail. He would give her the one thing he so
desperately desired, that one thing that had evaded him for so
long. It was the only thing he could give her. Freedom. And with
that freedom she could live her life in peace. Heaviness settled in
his heart and he quickly willed it from his thoughts.

He could have only one thought. He had to
concentrate. Killing Roke would take all his effort, all his
focus.

He passed a hunched servant who raced through
the halls. He could feel the fear radiating from the scurrying
woman. They were all afraid of failure here. Deathly afraid. It had
been so different in Acquitaine. Servants moved through the hallway
with purpose. To please. But the Acquitaine servants had been free.
Not slaves. They merely worked. And Aurora and Gabriel were kind to
them.

Damien came to the stairs and began his
ascent to the solar. He could not think of Acquitaine. Not the boy.
Not Aurora. He had to concentrate on his mission. He pictured
Roke’s death in his mind. Cyclops would be standing guard. He was
one of Roke’s two elite guards who went everywhere with him.
Cyclops was aptly named. He was a hulking man, but he was quick.
His bulk was muscle and his reflexes were honed to near perfection.
He had only one eye. The other eye had received a sword wound long
before Damien came to Castle Roke. It left that eye useless.

Cyclops.

Damien removed his dagger from his belt. He
tucked it beneath the sleeve of his tunic, keeping the handle in
his hand. He would take Cyclops out before he even entered the
room. One quick, silent swipe…

His only chance was surprise. Cyclops was
big. And quick. But he was blind on one side. If he didn’t take him
out immediately, the commotion, or any sound of sword fighting that
would ensue, would call forth the second elite guard from the
room.

Mother. Mother was much more dangerous than
Cyclops. He had been with Roke since the dawn of time. He trained
all of the assassins. He had trained Damien. Mother’s methods were
unorthodox and cruel. Damien knew he was stronger than Mother. But
even so, he never defeated Mother in battle. Mother used every
dirty trick he could. He once threw dirt in Damien’s eyes when they
battled in a room that had no dirt in it. He had not anticipated
that deception at all. By the time Damien could blink his eyes
clear, Mother had a blade to his throat.

The last time he faced Mother was five years
ago in a mock battle. He used Damien as an example of what not to
do, humiliating him at every turn. Mother never tired of defeating
him. But this time Damien knew he would be the victor. There could
be no other outcome.

And then, he would face Roke. He had never
seen Roke fight, nor had he heard of anyone who ever fought Roke,
because no one made it past Mother and Cyclops. Damien wasn’t sure
if Roke could even handle a sword. It didn’t matter. He would find
out.

Damien moved down the hallway, silently. He
was ready. More ready now then any other time in his life. The
solar lay just ahead of him. Determination and resolution filled
Damien. He would not fail.

As he neared the doorway, he realized
suddenly what that look had been in the boy’s eyes in the
courtyard. It was not fear. It was not hope.

It was a warning.

Damien did not miss a step. He did not give
away his surprise when he saw both of Roke’s elite guards standing
in the hallway, flanking the door to the solar. Sentinels.
Gargoyles. Death.

Something was wrong. Mother never left Roke’s
side. Shivers of apprehension shot up Damien’s spine, but he
betrayed none of his emotions. He kept moving toward the solar, as
if returning from any other mission to report to his master.

Cyclops grinned at him, more a grimace than a
smile. There was satisfaction in Cyclops’s crooked grin.

“Lord Roke is waiting for you,” Mother said
quietly.

Damien gripped the handle of the door.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He pushed open the
door.

D
amien eased
the door open. Every one of his senses screamed at him not to enter
that room. But he had to. If he didn’t, if he even hesitated, the
elite guards would be on him.

He entered the solar, scanning it as he moved
into the center. The well-lit room surprised Damien. Roke lived in
darkness. He thrived in the blackness of the night. To have this
much light was unlike him. Candles lined every surface of the room.
Even the hearth blazed behind Roke where he lounged in a rich,
blood-red velvet chair. His legs were crossed; his hand rested over
one of his knees. His dark hair fell in straight locks to his
shoulders. His gaze burned into Damien, hotter than the fire from
the hearth.

With one glance, Damien took in the rest of
the room. A square table at Roke’s side held all types of
instruments of torture. Roke used these tools to punish those who
failed. Damien’s gaze moved on, past the windows framed with thick
red velvet curtains. The curtains were closed. Every time Damien
was in the solar at night those had been open. The only light Roke
loved was the moonlight. It was the only light that belonged to the
night. What was hidden behind those closed curtains? An archer?
More men?