“Give up now and I won’t kill you,” Simon said.
“The only one who will die is you, Englishman.”
What confidence he had quickly left when the third soldier appeared around the corner. As he backed away, his mind frantically searched for a plan to outwit the both of them.
Like predators closing in on their prey, the soldiers advanced, their swords gleaming menacingly. In his mind, there was only one way to go about it. He charged forward, letting out a bloodcurdling yell to rival any savage.
The sound of metal clashing rang out as his sword engaged first one then another. He pulled every fighting trick he’d ever learned from his repertoire and even made up a few new ones.
A blade slashed through his skin, and pain seared his upper arm. He felt warm blood roll down his sleeve but ignored the wound. His sword found flesh of its own, cutting a jagged gash in the belly of the soldier closest to him.
A strangled cry went up from the other soldier, and Simon watched as he crashed to the ground. Isabella stood over him like an avenging goddess, her dagger covered in the man’s blood. The soldier gripped his shoulder and struggled to regain his footing. But Isabella never gave him a chance.
Simon swiftly turned his attention back to the last remaining soldier, confident that Isabella had the other well under control.
“Have you any idea the penalty for assaulting a member of the royal family?” he asked, as he and the soldier circled each other.
In fact he had no idea what punishment was meted out, but apparently it was stiff, for the man whitened.
“Perhaps you would like to rethink your surrender,” he said, pressing his advantage.
With a snarl of fury, the soldier launched himself at Simon, giving him the opportunity he had been waiting for. He smashed his fist into the man’s stomach then brought the butt of the sword down over his head, sending him crashing to the ground unconscious.
Not wasting any time on the fallen man, Simon rushed to aid Isabella. Only she had no need of it. With one well placed kick, she sent the last soldier sprawling to the dirt. He didn’t attempt to rise again.
“About time you showed your face,” he grumbled. But he caught her up against him before she could respond to his attempt at humor, holding her tightly to his chest.
She pulled away and smiled crookedly at him. “You were doing quite well on your own.”
“Is your head paining you?” he asked, smoothing the bruised skin with the tips of his fingers.
“I’ve had better days, but I’ll certainly survive. Let’s go into the monastery before more soldiers arrive.”
He turned to do her bidding, but she caught his arm.
“Merrick?”
He turned back to her, reading the concern in her face.
“What about Kirk?” she asked in a low voice.
Raw agony tore a jagged path through his chest all over again. “He’s dead,” he said flatly, ignoring Isabella’s troubled look.
He shepherded her around the corner to the huge wrought iron gate. The two monks standing on the inside immediately swung it open when they saw Isabella.
Without a word, they swiftly ushered them in and closed the gate once more. Then they hurried into the monastery where Father Ling stood to greet them.
“Your Highness, thank God you have returned safely.”
“I believe you have something for me,” she said in a husky voice as she held out her father’s scroll.
Tears filled the older man’s eyes, and he reached forward to grasp her hands in his. “It is with great joy that I will present you with the Sacred Emerald and the Royal Scepter. Come, let’s hasten to prepare you for your return to the palace.”
Monks scurried from all directions, some bearing food, some bearing clothing and still more ushered her into the bathing chamber.
Simon watched the events unfold with awe. Isabella was bathed and anointed with sacred water then dressed in the finest gown. When at last she stood before him, her transformation complete, he could not summon the words to express his amazement.
Gone was the woman he had spent the last weeks with, and in her place, stood a stunningly beautiful member of royalty. Her long hair fell in waves to her waist, a jeweled tiara atop her head. Her dress was a combination of materials, satin, silk and a heavy brocade, all in shades of green. Her trim waist was clearly outlined by the tight-fitting bodice. From there, the material fell in soft waves to her feet.
