Free Angel's Assassin by Laurel O'Donnell

wandered
through the castle, looking for the assassin, but he knew he
wouldn’t find him. Not now. Not after Marie’s death. The killer had
surely vanished and would now bide his time, preparing for the next
strike.
    Lord Gabriel looked up at him from the
bedside.
    Rupert sat up straight in his chair, stifling
a yawn. Damien was glad to see his eyes were open.
    Gabriel stared down at Aurora before bending
to kiss her forehead. He turned and locked gazes with Damien. The
light of the candle beside the bed cast an aura of cold
consideration from the depths of his eyes.
    Dread stirred inside Damien. Had Gabriel
found out who he was?
    “Come. Walk with me,” Gabriel ordered and
moved out of the room.
    Damien gave Rupert a stern glare as he moved
past him. “Stay awake,” he commanded and followed Lord Gabriel out
of the room.
    They walked down the long, deserted hallway
in silence. Their footsteps echoed quietly. The castle still
slept.
    Gabriel’s head softly nodded, the man deep in
thought, then he spoke more as if to himself than to Damien. “She
is strong. She will survive this.”
    “I have no doubt,” Damien agreed.
    Gabriel turned to regard him. “Who are
you?”
    “My name is Damien.”
    “From where do you hail?”
    “I’m -- a traveler. I don’t have a land I
call my home.”
    “A criminal?” Lord Gabriel wondered. “Or a
mercenary?”
    Damien did not answer. From his prior
experiences, people drew their own opinions of him without his
help. They were usually much darker and more dangerous than
anything he could come up with. The less he spoke, the more respect
he was given.
    Lord Gabriel stopped to face him. His sharp
blue eyes squinted in suspicion. “It would behoove you to tell me
the truth. I will find out eventually.”
    Damien closed his mouth tightly. How long did
he have before Gabriel really did discover the truth about him? “I
was born in Meadowbrook. But I do not call that my home. I have no
family. My allegiance is to myself.”
    Gabriel’s brow rose at the last. His gaze
swept Damien’s face, assessing him. “You seem to know much about
what is happening here, about the attempts on Aurora’s life.”
    Again, Damien remained quiet.
    “You believe there are other assassins?”
    Damien nodded slowly. “One is still at large.
I believe whoever is behind the attempts on your daughter’s life
will not stop until she is dead.”
    Gabriel pursed his lips, thoughtfully. “You
have saved Aurora’s life twice now. For that I am eternally
thankful.” Lord Gabriel paused, his focus on the floor, his lips
pursed deep in thought. “You seem to know about fighting and death.
What did you do before you were a traveler?”
    “I have always been a traveler.”
    “Where did you learn your skills?”
    “I watch people. I watch how they move, how
they act, how they react. Most people react in the same manner to
the things happening around them. The people who react strangely or
differently draw my attention. That’s how I saw the assassin in the
village. That’s how I knew the servant girl had poisoned the ale.”
He shrugged. “I have no special skills.”
    Lord Gabriel turned as if to continue down
the hall, but suddenly he drew his sword and swung at Damien.
    Damien instinctively sidestepped the blow and
his sword was out instantly, parrying the next blow. The swords
crossed and the two men stood that way for a long moment, Damien’s
breathing coming evenly, his eyes dark and burning.
    Lord Gabriel chuckled. “A man with your
instincts was trained. And trained well.” He straightened, drawing
his sword away from Damien. “Where were you trained?”
    Damien clutched the handle of his weapon
tightly. For a moment, his tension refused to abate. He forced his
jaw and stance to relax. Some truth might pacify him. “I was
trained with others to become a knight.” That was partially the
truth. He was trained with others. But not to become a knight. “I
lacked the coin and sponsor to gain