Beloved in His Eyes (Angel's Assassin #2)(34)

Perhaps. But being in Acquitaine didn’t save Adam. She wished she had been at the farm and she was dead.

“How did your mother die?”

“Mother died in childbirth with Adam. Your husband killed my father.”

Crickets chirped in the distance, and the moon slipped back behind the clouds.

“That’s why you looked at him the way you did at the square. The first time I saw you. You knew.”

Justina couldn’t answer. Yes, she knew. She knew he was a cold-blooded murderer. “He should be punished for what he’s done.”

Aurora rose up like a lioness to defend him. “Why? He was ordered to commit those crimes. He was a slave and his master commanded him. Should he be punished for following orders?”

“Yes!” Justina snarled. “Do you know what it’s like to have someone you love taken from you?”

Aurora lifted her chin. “I do. He killed my mother.”

Shocked, Justina’s mouth dropped open. “What?” She opened her mouth and then closed it. “How could you...?”

“I love him. He is not that killer anymore.”

“He will always be that killer.”

Aurora shook her head. “He is good and kind and a very wise ruler. He loves me. And I worry about him now. Alone, wondering where I am.”

“Good. I’m glad he will be worrying. He should be worrying.” She started forward again.

Aurora grabbed her arm. “Think on this, Justina. Damien is a dangerous man. But a good man. He will always do what is right.”

Justina yanked her arm free of Aurora’s hold. She didn’t want to think on anything. Not Damien, not Aurora. Not Adam. She turned and moved on through the brush. Just Gawyn. And even Gawyn was dangerous. But her mind continued to search him out, to dwell on him. The way his eyes twinkled when he smiled, the way his hand engulfed hers; his memory was the only thing keeping her sane amidst all the horror.

Aurora called, “Do you hear that?”

Justina glanced back at her. She had her head cocked to the side, listening. “I don’t hear anything.”

“It sounded like flutes.” Aurora began to make her way hurriedly through the forest.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Justina demanded. “It could be the Hungars.”

“The Hungars do not listen to music. Not music like this.” Aurora rushed through the brush with Justina following.

Justina grabbed her arm as they came to a road. “Wait.” She pulled her down, so they knelt beside the road, behind a bush, and pressed her finger to her lips. She looked down the road one way and then the other. Toward the castle, she saw a small wagon and a campfire. She couldn’t make out how many people were there, but she saw shadows moving. Then, again, the music started. Flutes playing soft tunes. A drum joined in and then clapping started.

Aurora leaned toward her to whisper, “Gypsies. They were at the castle to entertain us.”

Justina was surprised there was no malice in her voice, only acceptance. Many didn’t like gypsies, seeing them as thieves and whores. She wondered if they would recognize Aurora. That could be dangerous. What if they sold her to the Hungars? She was about to tell her they should continue on, when a small voice came from behind them.

“I like yer dress.” The voice was thickly accented.

Justina and Aurora turned to see a small girl standing close to them next to a bush. Justina was amazed the child had been so quiet, quiet enough to sneak up on them.

“Thank you,” Aurora replied. She looked around the roadside. “Where’s your mother?”

“At the camp,” the girl answered. She shoved some beautifully thick black hair from her forehead. She wore a woolen skirt, tied around the waist with a black sash and a green tunic that was too big for her and fell off her shoulder. She squinted her eyes at Aurora.

“Where’s your father?” Justina wondered.

“Papa is hunting in the woods.”

Aurora straightened in dread. She looked at Justina and there was fear in her eyes. “We have to tell them.”

“Tell us what?” The bushes parted, and a large man emerged. He was very tall, a bow and arrow slung over his shoulder.

Aurora stood immediately. “There are Hungars in the woods. You must be careful. They --”

Justina jumped up and seized her arm in a tight grip. “They were moving toward the castle.”

He eyed them suspiciously.

Justina’s hand dropped to the dagger in her belt.

“What are two women doing out alone in the woods at night?”

Cautiously, Justina answered, “We were trying to make it back to the castle, but we’re cut off by the Hungars.”

“Hmm.” He eyed them again. Suddenly, a smile split his lips. “Then you must come back to camp and have some food!”

“We would, but we have to find a way into the castle.”

“Pah!” He swept his arm out from side to side. “You cannot see in the dark. Wait until sunrise for your journey. I insist! I, Nicodemus, will see to your comfort this night!”

Justina swallowed her misgivings. What was she to do? She held Aurora’s arm as they walked toward the camp. Run? She could run, but she wasn’t sure how to convey that to Aurora. She followed with trepidation.

The small girl tugged on Nicodemus’s pants leg. “I know her, Papa.”