The Assassin: (Mortal Beloved Time Travel Romance, #2) by Pamela DuMond

laugh if I fell off the horse into a pathetic heap on the ground.”
    I swallowed a giggle and lightened my grip. “Yes, Lord Samuel. As always, your wish is my command.”  
    He laughed, which made me smile. And I realized this was the first time I heard him laugh in this lifetime. The funny thing was, his laughter sounded the same from when I first met him during King Philip’s War. My heart flip-flopped because this felt so very bittersweet.
    At last we exited the torturous forest and rode at a gentler pace across farmland. I took in the rolling hills with tendrils of green grass that poked through brown scrub covering the ground as spring spread its loveliness throughout Portugal.  
    I’d glossed over studying this time period in history. I didn’t know the people or their habits. Yes, I watched “ Game of Thrones ” which was ‘kind of’ set in medieval times. But that story also had dragons and I didn’t think there were dragons here in Portugal. In their place were assassins, liars, betrayers, and perverts. Perhaps I should wish for dragons.
    All these images and feelings danced around in my head, but in their center was the elephant in the room; how different Samuel was in this lifetime than the other times I’d met him.
    He seemed to be a bit of an entitled jerk in medieval Portugal. Perhaps it was a ruse to hide his true job as a Healer from those who might be out to get him: people who might believe that a Healer meant they were a witch, a warlock, or demonically possessed. Ignorant or simply fearful people might seek to punish or kill Samuel for the ‘crime’ of being a Healer.  
    That had to be it: Samuel just didn’t trust me enough yet to reveal his true nature.   I hoped that the passing of hours and days would change that, but then again, that would probably depend on how much time I was to spend here. And frankly, I wasn’t skilled enough yet as a Messenger to know, let alone control this.
    Ryan had instructed me in our ‘lessons’ that the more frequently I time traveled—the more I’d be able to control my visits: how to recognize the real messages I was supposed to give, as well as how to leave with volition when things got too dicey.  
    But Ryan and I both knew that I just wasn’t there yet. I was new to slipping through time’s fabric and traveling hundreds of years to strange places. I was not an expert. The mini trips I took during our training exercises were nothing compared to this.
    Samuel and I crossed a few small streams. The horse flinched at each one—as did I—before he gingerly placed his enormous hooves into the water. But when we approached a medium-sized river with rolling waters and wicked looking stones that jutted out from the riverbed, Bag neighed and backed away from the waters’ edge, practically dug his hooves into the earth, and I swear he harrumphed as he refused to move on the sloped riverbank.
    “Can’t we cross the river where it is more narrow?” I asked as the memories of me almost drowning popped into my head, and my throat tightened from my anxiety and made me a little lightheaded.  
    Xanax, Xanax—where was my spare stash of Xanax?  
    I dug into my skirts but found only a few breadcrumbs from breakfast. My heart raced, my breath a little ragged and numbness poured down through my body like I’d been doused with a bucket of chilly water. I clung even tighter to Samuel.  
    “Nadja.” He sighed. “This is the best place to cross. It might appear dangerous, but except for a few riptides and sinkholes, it is not. The horse is scared for reasons we cannot fathom.”
    “I agree with the horse,” I said. “This place looks scary to me as well.”
    “I have to return to the castle soon, or my absence will be noted.” Samuel prodded Bag-of-Bones with his heels. “I do not desire extra attention right now.”
    Finally, Bag just picked up his feet and trotted across the river as quickly as he could. I squeezed my eyes shut and reminded