The Assassin: (Mortal Beloved Time Travel Romance, #2) (8 page)

Samuel laughed. “Yes. I heard whispers you were asking about Inêz de Castro. Why?”

And, I remembered my message, and why I was really here:
wherever here was
. I wondered for a moment if I could trust Samuel, and then made the calculated decision that if I couldn’t trust Samuel in any lifetime,
who could I trust?
 

“What year is it?” I asked.

“Odd question.”

“Just tell me.”

He arched an eyebrow. “1355.”
 

“What do you call this place?”

“You are beginning to worry me,” he said.

“Just tell me!”

“King Afonso the Fourth’s castle in Coimbra.”

I shook my head. “Where’s Coimbra?”

“Have you gone daft?”

“No! Where’s Coimbra?”

“The Kingdom of Portugal.”

“Who’s Inêz de Castro and why does the King want to kill her?” I asked.

He inhaled sharply. “You can never speak of such things to anyone. You will be hung or imprisoned in a dungeon for the rest of your life.”

“Considering I was just poisoned and lived—but my friend died?
I call myself lucky.
I need to find Inêz and give her a message. And I need to do that
now
. Are you going to help me?”

He paced up and down the hall.
 

“Answer me or I’ll go on my own,” I said.

He shook his head. “Yes. Yes, I will help you. But you cannot tell anyone.
Anyone
—or it will be our heads. Agree?”

“I promise.”

We turned and raced down a chilly stone corridor in the year 1355 in King Afonso the Fourth’s castle in Coimbra, Portugal.
 

And I reminded myself that my real name is Madeline Blackford. I’m sixteen years old from present day Chicago, Illinois. I’d just traveled over six hundred years back in time, survived being poisoned, discovered I was a gypsy, re-met my soul mate Samuel, and now I was going to try and deliver a message to save a woman’s life.
 

I’d say that I definitely accomplished a lot today. But a lot wasn’t enough for a Messenger.
A lot only scratched the surface.

~ ~ ~

“Your groom has taken your steed to be shoed. And I apologize, but the King and his men took most of the other horses, my Lord,” the head groom at King Afonso’s royal stables informed Samuel.

“We only need one horse,” Samuel said. “And we need him now.” He pulled a silver coin from his pocket and handed it to the man.

He pocketed it. “I have just the beast for you.”

~ ~ ~

The groom placed the saddle on the horse’s swayed back as I attempted to pet his long snout. But the animal pulled back his lips in a huff and nipped at me with his enormous yellow teeth.
 

I yanked my hand away. “Ow! I’m not loving you right now.”

“I am sorry?” Samuel hopped on top of him and held his hand out to me.
 

“The horse. Not you. I mean—let’s just go!” This time I knew what to do. I took his hand, and jumped off the ground, as he pulled me up behind him onto the back of the horse. I gingerly wrapped my hands around Samuel’s waist as the horse trotted off.

~ ~ ~

We rode through the black of night over hills and valleys dotted with farmland and crossed with forest trails. At times, I closed my eyes and remembered what it felt like when Samuel and I raced to the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic Ocean in the dead of night in 1675 during King Philip’s War in Rhode Island. The night Samuel first told me that he loved me.
 

Hooray for treasured moments that will never be forgotten
—at least not by me.

We approached a river: its waters tumbling softly over small rocks. The horse slowed down, stopped in its tracks, whinnied, shook his head, and shied away from the riverbank.
 

I totally understood. Ever since a Hunter nearly drowned me in the year 1675, I’ve developed a fear of water. Then I thought about my message for Inêz, realized we were running out of time, and that the King and his advisors had left well before us. “Hurry up!” I said.

“We’re going as fast as this bag of bones can carry us.” Samuel kicked his heels into the horse’s side.
 

~ ~ ~

Samuel tied Bag-of-Bones to a tree a hundred yards or so behind a picturesque one-story medieval villa encircled by a high stone wall.
 

We crept low to the ground as we approached the estate. “I don’t see any guards,” Samuel whispered. “Where are Prince Pedro’s guards? He would never leave his beloved Inêz and their children unprotected while he is away.”

Then I saw it—a hand on the ground—sticking out of a bush. I hurried toward it, shoved back a branch, and revealed to whom the hand was attached—a large guy whose throat had been sliced down to the front of his vertebra. I recoiled and shoved back a scream. “Samuel! Come here!” I hissed.

He was by my side in a second. “Dear God, I know this man,” he said. “He was dutiful and honorable. They are killing Prince Pedro’s guards. Everyone they discover here who is not a member of their killing party is fair game to be assassinated. Including us.”

“I have to warn Inêz.” I lifted my long skirts and ran toward the wall separating us from the villa. I jumped high, and grasped the top of the stone ledge that was cold and slippery from the moist night air.

“This was not a good idea,” Samuel snapped his fingers at me like I was a naughty puppy. “We must leave this place—now!”
 

My heart raced. “No.” I pulled myself up the wall but I felt so much weaker than normal—it had to be the poison. When he latched onto my foot. “Let me go!”

“No,” he said. “I do not know what got into me at the King’s gathering; probably too much ale and gazing at you, a pretty maiden who needed rescuing. But we
are
departing—
now
.”

“Leave if you don’t want to be here.” I said. “I’m staying.”

“I am not going without you.” He tugged harder on my leg.
 

“Stop it!”

“No!”

I kicked him with the back of my heel. Hard. I felt it connect with his face and he grunted in pain and released me. I felt terrible, but then reminded myself to get a grip. I had a job and it was important. And I shouldn’t have to be distracted because the boy I loved for an eternity didn’t remember me for a heartbeat.

“I think you just broke my nose.” He clutched his face. “I should never have agreed to this insanity!”

“Just go. I promised I would deliver a message to Inêz, and I don’t break my promises.” I climbed to the top of the wall, peered down at the other side, and jumped.

~ nine ~

I careened down the bumpy, misaligned stone edges and landed in a thicket of bushes. The shrubbery broke my fall, but a few thorns pricked my skin, and I tried not to wince.
 

Shouts and child-like screams came from the house that was now merely a dozen or so yards away. I snuck through the small courtyard filled with painted tiles, fountains, and greenery until I reached the rear of the villa. I backed against its walls and despite my racing heart, struggled to quiet my breath. I peeked inside the doors that were flung wide open.

A thirty-something pretty woman wearing a modest, long dress stood in the middle of the room, a defiant thrust to her chin. Three young children surrounded her: two held tight to her sleeves, and one little boy wrapped both arms around her waist, his head tucked under her arm.

A group of men stood across from her. Some were young and looked tough like guards; others appeared older and were dressed like noblemen.

A tall, old man dressed in a fine, rich black cloak stood a few feet from the woman and stared down at them, mildly perplexed. “What do you expect of me, Inêz? I have warned my son Pedro time and again about the dangers of aligning with your brothers and their disruptive Galician politics.”

“Your ties with the kingdom of Castile still remain strong, King Afonso,” Inêz said. “The power stays with Portugal and Castile. Taking my life will not solve any political, or other problems, that stem from vicious gossip delivered by jealous nobles.”
 

“Founded in jealousy or reality, the problem is already here, Inêz, because even though I exiled you multiple times,
you always come back
. You have been here for over ten years. You seduced Pedro away from his true wife, Lady Constanza of Castile, who most likely died of heartbreak. Their son, Prince Ferdinand, the legitimate heir to my throne, is sickly, and weakens daily.”

“That is not my fault, Your Highness,” Inêz said.
 

“Unfortunately, most people do not believe that,” said a skinny, older man draped in a rich velvet cape.

“Sir Flaín is correct.” King Afonso sighed. “Come here, Denis.” He reached a hand out to the young boy holding tight to his mother’s arm. “Come to your Grandpapa.”

Inêz gently pushed her son who reluctantly made his way toward the King.
 

He took Denis’s hand, drew the child toward him and hoisted him in the air. “You’re growing into such a big, strong boy.” King Afonso placed Denis back on the ground and smiled as he tore back to his mother. “You bewitched my son, Inêz. What if you cursed my legitimate grandchild? Your children with Pedro are simply royal bastards, but they multiply, scurry around, and flourish like mice in the cellars.” He moved a few feet toward Inêz, reached for her face, and ran his thumb down her cheek.

She flinched and blinked back tears. “Please spare my life, honorable King Afonso, father of my beloved Pedro. If not for your son, then for the sake of our children,
your grandchildren,
whom we all deeply love. I humbly remind you that your blood runs through their veins.” She dropped to her knees and quietly sobbed. “Spare me. I beg you.”

“Unfortunately, my advisors have convinced me that it is simply too late.”

“It
is
too late,” Flaín said. “King Afonso needs to give our Castilian friends a definitive sign we are united in solidarity with them.”

“Your brothers’ politics have no place here,” King Afonso said, “and yet, they are embedded like worms in the future corpses of the Portuguese people they conspire to rule. I will not tolerate this treachery one day longer!”

His guards and advisors pulled swords and daggers from sheaths attached to their belts.
 

Inêz’s children screamed and clung to her like human shields. “Mama, no!” a girl said. “Grandpapa, no!” Denis cried.

“I know you are a God-fearing man, King Afonso.” She gazed up at him, now with fight shining through the tears in her eyes. “A God-fearing man will take my children from this room before we continue our discussion, yes?”
 

I’d witnessed that look on several occasions in the eyes of someone who knew that they would soon be dying.
 

I made it here intact, but I was too late. Even though I did not know Inêz de Castro personally—and had never in fact heard of her before tonight—she was still a mother with young children.
 

King Afonso and his counselors eyed each other.

“Your Highness,” a rat-faced man holding a dagger said. “Do not rethink this. Be done with it.”

I flashed to the memories of my mama and the car accident. When Malachi the Hunter had rammed our car off the edge of a tall car park in Chicago, Mama had to make a decision—stay and watch me die, or time travel and let me live. She knew she would never be able to return to present day Chicago.
 

Now Inêz faced making a similar, if not worse, decision.
 
She would protect her children, but these memories would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

 
“Perhaps you should leave, your Highness. After all, this is why you employed us,” another advisor said, his voice silky smooth. He was probably in his forties, handsome, and even though he hadn’t yet drawn a sword or a weapon, his words sliced the air in the room like a razor through soft skin.

“I will leave when I am ready, Diogo,” King Afonso said.

Inêz reached up, clutched the King’s arm and whispered, “If you subject my children to harm—if you inflict one small scratch, one tiny hurt—as God is my witness, even from beyond the grave, I will seek revenge on you and your…
advisors
. It will be in tears, it will be in blood, and unlike you standing before me right now in my home with Pedro—it will not be a secret.
Because I swear I will find a way to make sure everyone knows about it.”

King Afonso blinked.

“But if you are decent to your grandchildren? If you promise me that no harm will come to them and you take them away from here now,” Inêz said as her hands shook, “I will suffer whatever unjust and unholy punishment you mete upon me.”

I closed my eyes and remembered what my mama had told me so many years ago. She said I could be strong, challenge my fears, and choose actions in spite of them. Or I could be weak and live a small life filled with regrets.
 

Right now I chose to be strong.
 

I took a deep breath, gathered my courage and strode into the living room like I was meant to be there, and curtsied. “Lady Inêz de Castro. My most sincere apologies that I am so late.”
 

She cocked her head and peered at me—completely confused.

“It is far past time for me to help with the children,” I said. “King Afonso, what an honor it is for me to be in your presence.” I curtsied again. “I had no idea you were visiting tonight.”

“Do not speak to the King, girl,” the rat-faced man said.

“I apologize,” I said.

“There you go again speaking to the King.” Rat-face glared and brandished his dagger inches in front of my face.

I flinched and back-stepped.

“I could cut those words from your pretty mouth and teach you some manners.”

“Leave the girl alone, Alvaro,” the King said. “I doubt she means anyone harm.”

I bent my head to the King in deference, hoped the entire room couldn’t hear my heart pounding in my chest, swiveled, and stared at Inêz. “Lady—I am so very sorry I am tardy. I am here to take care of the children—
like I always do.
What say you? Should I feed them a late night bite so the hunger goblins do not wake them up in the wee hours?”