The Angel's Assassin (15 page)

Grabbing Benedict
by his mantle, he hauled the lord to his feet. “I shall not let you kill her.”

Benedict gave him a
cool look. “As long as I have you, it seems my niece will do aught, including
giving up her beloved keep. You may prove useful to me yet.”

“Why bring me into
this? You planned to kill her all along did you not?”

“Nay, you stupid
fool.” Benedict tore himself away from his grasp. “If you had not decided to
turn on me none of this would have been necessary, but you had to fall for my
niece’s ample charms. Imagine that, a heartless man falling in love!”

Nicholas couldn’t
deny his allegations. “But why have me followed?”

Benedict grinned.
“Ah, well, that was to ensure we could arrest you for murdering my poor beloved
niece.”

Nicholas frowned.
“You are beyond mad, Benedict. I would have revealed your role in all of this
had you had me arrested.”

“Nay, Nicholas. You
would not have lived long enough.”

 “Why the
fire?”

“That was Godfrey’s
mistake there, I’m afraid. Things had changed and I had no need of you. He had
thought you were in there and intended to do away with you in a tragic
accident. I was most dissatisfied to hear it had not worked but now it seems I
may have use for you yet. The king was not as easily swayed as I had hoped so I
have need of a confession of treachery from Annabel. You may well help me gain
that…” he told him with a smirk.

Nicholas considered
all of this. Why had he not seen that naught with Lord Benedict was to be
simple? But he had. He had known this was to be no simple job. Lord Benedict
had come up with some convoluted plan to exact revenge and gain power by using
him. He could not regret accepting the job though, for it had given him Annabel
and offered him the chance to save his soul. While he still lived and breathed
he would fulfil his duty. He would ensure Annabel yet lived. And with that
Benedict would die.

Benedict motioned to
the small doorway. “Now that you have all your answers, shall we?”

Annabel found her
herself saddled with her hands bound to the reins. She kept her attention on
the hut, waiting for Nicholas and her uncle to emerge as Godfrey ruthlessly
yanked on the reins, causing them to bite into her skin.

She released a
breath as they stepped out of the hut, Nicholas walking in front of her uncle.
He had at least allowed him to dress but Annabel found herself worried that he
would get cold. She chided herself for foolish thoughts; there were many more
dangers to consider than the weather.

Nicholas glanced at
her, taking in her bound hands, and she saw him snarl in anger, but he seemed
to restrain himself. His eyes were full of determination and it leant her hope.
There was still a chance that they would make it out of this alive.

Her eyes narrowed
as Benedict gave her a satisfied grin. How had she not seen the evil that
simmered beneath his cold eyes? It was true that her uncle had doted on her
mother but since her death, he had revealed little of that man. Annabel had
assumed that he was still grieved by her death and was just grateful for his
assistance. Nicholas had been right, she was too trusting. Too willing to
believe that there was good in everyone.

Godfrey motioned
for Nicholas to hold his hands out in front of him and he did so willingly, his
eyes never leaving her. His hands were tied like hers, but instead of being
placed onto one of the mounts, he was tethered to her horse. Annabel realised
they were going to force him to walk the journey and he would have little
opportunity to rest. Her heart sank; Nicholas was going to pay dearly for
offering her his protection.

“Uncle, pray you
cannot expect him to walk? Surely he will just hinder our progress?” she added
in the hopes of appealing to her uncle’s practical side.

Benedict looked
from her to Nicholas as he pursed his lips. “Mayhap you wish to walk instead,
Annabel?” He turned to Nicholas. “What say you, shall she take your place?”

“I’d rather die
first,” Nicholas spat at him.

Benedict chuckled.
“Well, we do not want that. Not yet, anyway.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I
suspect my charitable niece will be begging to exchange places with you before
long. She is terribly soft-hearted, as I’m sure you discovered.”

Annabel’s chin
snapped up, a silent fire filling her. “Not
that
soft-hearted, Uncle.
You have seen to that.”

He merely raised an
eyebrow before motioning to the ever silent Godfrey to move out. With a
distinct lack of grace, Godfrey positioned himself behind her and Annabel had
to suppress a shudder of repulsion as his stench suffocated her and his weighty
body pressed into hers. She straightened her back in an attempt to put some
distance between them but his paunch rested against her.

They set off at a
slow pace, hindered by the black night, and Annabel offered up a prayer of
thanks as she heard Nicholas’ even footsteps behind them. However, as the pale
light of dawn crested, they picked up speed, forcing Nicholas into a jog as he
was hauled along behind them. He was exhausted already and she knew he would
not last long at such a pace.

She shifted in her
seat constantly, so as to get a better view of him and she saw his chin clench
in determination every time he met her gaze. Annabel admired his stubborn pride
but she could not help watch him with apprehension.

Before night fell
once more, Benedict proclaimed himself tired and they stopped in a clearing for
the night. Annabel sighed in relief, she was exhausted and she couldn’t imagine
how Nicholas was faring.

Godfrey untied her
wrists as her uncle hissed a warning to her. “Try and escape and I shall kill
him.”

“I’ll not let you
hurt him, Uncle.”

He grabbed her chin
roughly. “Behave yourself and I won’t have to.”

Annabel longed to
go to Nicholas, to offer him comfort through his exhaustion, but they left him
bound to the mount and, though he refused to reveal his fatigue, Annabel could
see the relief as he sank to the ground next to the horse. Godfrey sat close
by, the threat of his sword ensuring her silence just as the threat of her
uncle’s dagger ensured his.

Benedict had her
settle next to him and Annabel made no protest, fearing for Nicholas’ welfare
under Godfrey’s cruel stare. As the night darkened, she found she was unable to
see him through the gloom but she could feel his eyes on her and it offered her
a strange sense of reassurance. Comforted, she attempted to rest, knowing she
would need all her strength for the coming days. Particularly if she was to
keep her wits about her now that her uncle had revealed his true colours.

***

A hand pushed
roughly at her, waking her from a groggy sleep. Her mouth was dry, her eyes
gritty and her head pounded as she pulled herself to sitting. Godfrey stared
down at her through his lifeless eyes and Annabel shuddered under his
attentions. Attempting to hide the anxiety he caused, she smiled brightly.

“Good morrow,
Godfrey, I trust you slept well?”

His lips twitched
into a sneer and he grunted before turning away from her. Annabel chuckled inwardly,
pleased to have disconcerted the silent henchman.

Her eyes latched
onto Nicholas, who was as grim faced as ever. However, a silent resolution sat
in his eyes and it emboldened her. Fearful of provoking any reaction from
Godfrey, who watched their mute exchange, she remained quiet as she eased to
standing.

Annabel was once
again bound to the mount as her uncle and Godfrey broke their fast with some
dried fruit and ale. Her stomach grumbled as they ate but they offered neither
she nor Nicholas any. She only hoped they would be fed soon. Surely if her
uncle had gone to such efforts to capture her, he would wish to keep her alive?

With no need for
secrecy, their small troupe journeyed along the more well-travelled routes. It was
both a curse and a blessing as it meant their ride would not be as arduous as
the one that she and Nicholas had taken. However, the boggy roads made it
difficult for Nicholas to remain upright and by the end of the second day much
of him was caked in mud.

They were finally
fed that eve, Godfrey having picked up supplies at the last village, and they
all ate greedily with little show of obstinate pride.

Nicholas’
exhaustion finally took its toll the next day and Annabel could not prevent
herself from crying it out as he fell and was dragged behind the horse.

“Uncle, pray stop!
You will kill him.”

Benedict paused,
pulling his mount to a stop, and Godfrey followed suit.

Sneering as he
considered the crumpled man, he grinned at Annabel. “Shall you take his place
then, Annabel?”

“Aye, if I must!”

Her uncle frowned
with displeasure at her response. Untying Nicholas, he pulled him to his feet.

Nicholas stared at
him with gritted teeth, pure loathing written on his face.

“I told you of my
niece’s charitable nature. Think yourself blessed that she thinks so highly of
you. If it were not for her you would already be dead.” Benedict released his
grip on Nicholas and he collapsed to the floor once more.

“Godfrey!” Benedict
snapped. “You can walk. If Annabel cares so much for this fallen knight, then
she can have care of him. I am weary of this slow pace. ”

Godfrey dismounted,
just suppressing his displeasure at having to give up his spot for Nicholas.
With a grunt, he lifted Nicholas, throwing him violently over Annabel’s lap.

Annabel cried out
at the sudden weight, but she was grateful for the opportunity to be so close
to him. He seemed to pass into a state of oblivion as she stroked tenderly at
his hair while Benedict set up the gruelling pace once more.

For two more days
and nights, they travelled like this, Annabel offering what reassurances she
could to her brave knight. One the final day of travelling, Nicholas regained
some energy and Benedict, upon noticing this, forced him back into walking.
Annabel’s protests fell upon deafened ears and it was with great relief that
they returned to Alderweald, glad that Nicholas’ suffering would now be over.

***

There was a subdued
air as they entered the keep. The bailey still revealed the signs of the fierce
battle and a grim tension imbued the air. Annabel looked desperately around for
her most trusted men but she could see few of them. Her men were accompanied by
many of her uncle’s, likely insuring none could raise a sword.

Inside the keep not
a man was to be seen. The servants had disappeared and the castle seemed
lifeless and cold. Her men and servants were loyal and brave but she prayed
they had not fought against Lord Benedict, for she could see now that he was a
merciless man.

The Great Hall,
once a place for feasting and jollity, was cold, the grey stone as dark as her
fears. The colourful tapestries looked gloomy and foreboding without the lit
torches and candles. She stared briefly at the high ceiling, wondering if
Benedict had been sleeping in her chambers. The thought sent shudder of
repulsion through her.

Drawing off his
gloves and setting them down on the table at the back of the hall, Benedict
bestowed her with a tight smile.

Motioning to
Nicholas dismissively, he ordered Godfrey to place him in the donjon. Annabel
bit back a cry as she watched him be dragged away from her. He fought briefly
against Godfrey’s tight grip but his strength had left him and all he could do
was call out her name as he was hauled outside.

Furious, Annabel
glared at her uncle. He had invaded her home, taken away all comfort that she
felt in it and now he was imprisoning her lover.

“What do you intend
to do with him, Uncle?”

Crooking a finger,
he beckoned her forwards before stabbing at some parchment that sat on the
table.

“Concede Alderweald
to me and sign this. Then I shall release your precious Nicholas.”

Annabel looked over
the parchment. “This is a confession of treachery. You would ask me to sign my
life away?”

“Yours or his,
Annabel, that is your choice. Fear not, the king will not harm you. Your fate
shall be far preferable to the one that I intended for you. Mayhap you shall
just be imprisoned or even banished if you are lucky.”

“And you shall have
Alderweald…”

“That is the idea, dear
one. So if you shall just sign away here, I will release our prisoner.”

“You will not. And
I will not sign nor will I hand over control of Alderweald. I do not trust you
to leave him unharmed, should I concede. Do what you will but I will not admit
to treachery.”

Annabel couldn’t
see how she could escape this situation but she felt a determination rise
within her. Much like the determination she had witnessed in Nicholas. He
inspired her to hold herself strong and she felt a renewed courage.

His face reddened
with frustration. “By the stars, this is not some jest. Do you wish the death
of that man to weigh on your soul?”