Page 78 of Ensnaring the Dove

Blood sprayed in his wake.

And as Aedan tracked his path, he saw that Maccus’s gaze was riveted upon the tall figure who strode to meet him.

Severus Juventus was going to take the outlaw leader on.

From the moment their blades locked, it was clear that the commander had met his match.

Every strike Juventus made, the outlaw countered.

The commander’s lean face was twisted as he fought, his gaze narrowed and glittering.

Aedan was forced to look away then, defending himself from a swinging iron blade. Ducking under his attacker’s guard, he stabbed the man in the guts, shoved him back, and pushed him over the wall.

Swiveling around once more, he noted Juventus and Maccus were still locked in combat—neither giving any ground.

Maccus feinted then before kicking out viciously, catching his opponent in the shin. And despite that greaves clad the commander’s lower legs, Juventus stumbled, slipping on the slick boards beneath his feet.

Pressing his advantage, Maccus lunged.

Juventus sprawled back, hitting the walkway. He rolled aside, just in time, avoiding the outlaw’s slashing sword. However, Maccus had the advantage now, and he went in for the kill.

Juventus held him off with his own blade, yet the outlaw was quickly wearing him down with vicious strikes. All it would take was a few more blows, and Maccus’s sword would bite his neck.

Without stopping to think, or second-guess his decision, Aedan lunged forward, drawing the pugio from his waist.

Catching Maccus by the hair with one hand, he drove his dagger through his leather vest, between his ribs, and twisted.

Maccus grunted, whirling away from Juventus, his fist catching Aedan in the jaw.

Aedan reeled back, yanking the pugio with him.

Recognition lit in Maccus’s eyes, and he bared his teeth. He lunged then, coming after him.

Aedan shifted out of range. However, his boots slid in the rain, flying out from under him. His breath gusted out of him as he sprawled on his back.

Maccus grinned, knowing he’d won, and raised his sword to finish Aedan off. But he never brought his sword down.

His expression froze before agony flickered across his lean features.

The attack had given Juventus the reprieve he needed. The commander rolled to his feet and struck hard, driving his blade under Maccus’s armpit as he lifted his sword arm.

His teeth set in a rictus, Juventus pushed the blade deeper still.

Maccus's eyes glazed, and his knees sagged. He went down like a sack of barley.

Breathing hard, Aedan got to his feet. His gaze met the commander’s then—and to his surprise, Juventus flashed him a grin.

An instant later, they both swiveled away to face the last of the Brigante warriors that had climbed onto the wall.

XXXIII. GO TO HIM

“YOU HANDLE A blade well, Brigante.”

The gruff voice made Aedan turn. They’d just killed the last of those warriors brave enough to breach the wall. Aedan had been craning his neck, watching below. Soldiers surged through the open gates, across the drawbridge they’d lowered over the vallum, and into the smoky, rainy night—to see off the remaining Brigante.

It had been a violent battle, and a number of soldiers had fallen on the wall, but they’d successfully defended it.

Not one attacker had managed to get through into the vicus.