Beloved in His Eyes (Angel's Assassin #2)(25)

Gawyn bowed his head, his eyebrows coming together in agony. “Yes,” he whispered. “But that was another lifetime ago.”

She grabbed his tunic, desperately. “Did you know he killed my father?”

Gawyn startled, pulling back slightly. His gaze swept her anguished face. Slowly, understanding dawned. That was how she knew Damien. She had recognized him as the assassin of her father. “No. I didn’t know every person he killed.”

She pushed against his chest and stood. “But you knew he killed. You knew what he was, what he did.”

Gawyn rose slowly, dangerously. “I knew. And it would be best for you to forget.”

Justina gasped and her eyes teared. “Are you going to kill me if I don’t?”

“Justina.” Gawyn reached for her, but she pulled away violently. He stood for a moment with his hands outstretched before slowly lowering them. His heart twisted that she could even think he would harm her. “No.” Gawyn watched the sadness creep over her, invade her body. He wanted to take her into his arms and comfort her, reassure her it had been a long time ago. That he and Damien were different men and they would never harm her. But she knew the men they had been. And he couldn’t change his past. “Please, listen to me –”

“No, you listen! I saw him. I saw him standing over my father with a bloody dagger. He took my father from me! He must pay. He has to…” Her voice choked off and she whirled away.

Gawyn remembered the blood from some of his own kills. He knew the death. He would have sheltered her from all of it, if he could. Still, the need to defend Damien was strong. “He’s a good man now, Justina.”

“A good man?” She turned back to him, her eyes ringed with unshed tears. “Is that why he sent you to kill me?”

Gawyn shook his head. “He didn’t. I wasn’t sent to kill you. I would never do that. We are different now.” He looked away from her, understanding why she had to leave. It was better for her to be away from them.

“We?” she asked, shocked.

Gawyn realized his mistake too late. They could never be together. He was a fool to even think, to even hope… “I was an assassin, also.”

Justina’s mouth dropped open in shock. Her eyes twisted in contempt and her lips curled in disgust.

Gawyn had never seen the look. From Justina, it was like a sword plunged into his heart. “You wanted honesty.” He reached his hands out in supplication. “I haven’t done that since…since we arrived here.” He shook his head fiercely. “I wouldn’t…”

She pulled away from him as if his touch would burn her.

Slowly, Gawyn withdrew his hands. “I wanted you to know the truth. It’s not just Damien.”

Suddenly, a horse came charging into the inner ward. People scattered to get out of the way of the sharp hooves. Gawyn reacted instinctively and moved quickly into the path of the steed. He held his hands out above his head to stop it. It reared, and he had to step to the side before the hooves crashed down on his head. He seized the flapping reins, bringing the horse under control. It was spooked, or tired. He couldn’t tell which.

The man on the horse was Sir Lewis, one of the soldiers who had rode with him to escort the Hungars to the borders. His hand clutched his side, his face a mask of agony. Gawyn handed the reins to the stable boy just as the soldier crumpled and slid from the saddle. Gawyn caught him before he hit the ground and eased him down. He lifted the soldier’s hand from his side to see blood pooling across his tunic. Gawyn looked around for help. One of the sentries was coming toward him. He pointed at him, ordering, “Get a physician.”

The sentry whirled and raced away into the growing crowd.

Sir Lewis grabbed Gawyn’s tunic, pulling him close. “The Hungars...” his voice trailed off as a coughing fit sprayed droplets of blood across Gawyn’s tunic. “Rode around. Killed all the men. Burned the farm...”

Gawyn grimaced. He glanced at Justina to see the color drain from her face. Her uncle. He shouldn’t have left them. “Where’s Rupert?”

The soldier shook his head.

“How many?”

“Twenty-five. Fifty,” he said. “An army. They caught us off guard. We...”

“Take it easy, Lewis. Rest. Help will be here soon.”

“All of them, dead.”

“Rest. Don’t talk,” Gawyn ordered.

Blood bubbled from Lewis’s lips. “They’re coming. They’re...” His hand went limp and slid from Gawyn’s tunic. His eyes glassed over, and he stared, lifeless.

Gawyn straightened. The Hungars were coming. The castle was in jeopardy. He reached out to Lewis and closed his eyes before rising to his feet. There was work to be done. His mind churned. Damien needed to know. The people needed to be protected and the gates closed.

He looked toward Justina. The spot she had stood in was empty. He glanced around, at the bench they had sat on. It was empty. His gaze moved over the courtyard, stopping briefly at the blacksmith shop and the door to the keep. She was gone. He scanned the inner ward for her and caught a glimpse of her wild brown hair as she raced beneath the inner ward gate toward the outer ward. “Justina!” he called, but she didn’t stop. He hurried after her, skirting guards, and peasants. He had to stop her. She couldn’t leave the castle. It wasn’t safe!