hoof-beats cut through the night air.
“Gavina, Elizabeth!” Cassian called out. “To me … now!”
The ladies rushed forward, their faces taut and pale.
“Get behind me,” he instructed. “All of you.”
The three women did as bid. Cassian then drew the dagger from his belt and handed it to Aila.
“You may have to use this.” Cassian’s gaze gleamed as he stared down at her. “Wait till your attacker is close and then go for the throat or eyes … their torsos will be protected by chainmail, so don’t try to stab them there.”
Aila’s heart started to pound a tattoo against her ribs. She wasn’t sure she could stab anyone. If only I were a fearless Pict warrior woman. But pushing down her fear, Aila nodded.
There was no more time for talk then, for dark shapes emerged from the night and barreled toward them.
“Lord have mercy on us,” Elizabeth whispered from behind her. “They’re going to run us down.”
Even Cassian couldn’t protect them from being trampled by warhorses.
Aila gripped the dagger’s handle tightly and braced herself for impact.
Cassian watched the horses approach, chainmail and steel glinting. He’d drawn his sword and was ready for them, even if the knowledge that this was going to hurt turned his belly sour.
It would be worse for the women he was trying to protect.
I’ve failed. Pain lanced across his chest.
But at the last moment, the riders pulled up, their huge destriers snorting and squealing. They then drew out in a circle around the man and three women who stood upon the hilltop.
“Did you really think you’d outrun us?” A deep voice boomed through the night. A massive knight drew up his warhorse a few yards back from Cassian. He spoke French. When Cassian didn’t reply, the man gave a low, humorless chuckle. “We found your friend. The woman was witless … kept screaming that she’d fled Lucifer.” A heavy gaze settled upon Cassian. “Was she speaking about you?”
“It seems so,” Cassian replied, his voice cool and even.
“What have you done to Jean?” Elizabeth shouted.
“She’s dead,” the knight said flatly, swinging down from his horse. “The king has ordered that you all die.”
Elizabeth choked back a sob, while Lady Gavina whispered a prayer.
Cassian’s lips thinned. Prayers weren’t going to save any of them now. He kept his attention riveted upon the knight. The man drew the heavy broadsword from his side, and the sound of steel scraping against leather rent the night.
Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Cassian readied himself for combat. He would fight to the bitter end, but that wouldn’t help these three women.
Aila’s going to die.
Cassian’s belly clenched into a hard ball. Being immortal didn’t give him the power of ten men. He could still feel pain, could still be brought to his knees by injuries. They could cut him to pieces, and he’d still heal with the rising of the sun—but Aila, Gavina, and Elizabeth wouldn’t.
And when he rose from the dead, he’d find the mutilated bodies of the women he’d failed to keep safe.
The big knight came at him then. He wielded the broadsword double-handed, the heavy blade slicing through the air.
One of the women screamed. It was a heart-rending, chilling sound that carried far across these lonely hills.
Gritting his teeth, Cassian swung his gladius high and lunged forward.
XXXI
MERCY
THE MOMENT THE huge knight swung for Cassian, Aila’s heart leaped into her throat.
We’re doomed.
At least half a dozen more men had dismounted and now encircled them. Closing in like wolves, they drew their swords, but didn’t attack—not yet. Once their leader brought down the women’s protector, it would be over.
But Cassian wasn’t so easily beaten. Aila shifted close to the ladies. However, her gaze remained riveted upon him.
Gilded by moonlight, he feinted, parried, and attacked with a fluidity that was breathtaking to watch. His blade became little more than a silver blur. He fought like a man who’d had years to practice—an ancient warrior.
Cassian was a big man, but his opponent was huge, and he wielded a lethal broadsword. Yet, Cassian brought him to his knees with a vicious stab to the leg.
The knight roared, swinging his blade around to intercept Cassian’s next strike just in time. He then bellowed, “Attaque!”
The surrounding men moved. An English soldier leaped toward Aila before Cassian intercepted him and drove his short, sharp blade into the man’s throat.
But the first knight wasn’t done for yet. He lunged to his feet with a roar and swung at Cassian’s neck.
He’d have decapitated him, but Cassian ducked, and the blade whistled overhead.
Suddenly,