Page 70 of Thorns and Echoes

She locked it.

The prince chuckled. “It’s to be that kind of negotiation, is it? If I’d known–”

The hiss of steel vacating its sheath floated in the air as Anais extended her arm. The tip of her blade nipped his neck. “Silence. I am not here to speak to you.”

He tilted his head back, his hand gripping a hilt at his belt. “Hmm, this is familiar. Must we do this again? You won’t kill me, and I’m not interested in hurting you, so let’s be civil about this and–”

The blade drew a droplet of blood. “Turn around.”

His easy smile turned hard. “Having trouble killing a man while he’s staring you in the eye? I’ve heard so much about the Dark Queen of Drantar. Butcher. Sadist. Witch. I must say, you're not living up to the rumors.”

She stepped sideways, yanking off a rope that was tying up the drapes. She tossed it at him. “Bind your wrists.”

He picked up the rope, moving slowly. “I take it you’re refusing my proposal, then. What a pity. I would make a good Consort. I don't say it lightly.”

“Bind them, pirate, and like a sailor would.”

He sighed. She didn’t remove her sword until he yanked the rope tight with his teeth. Pulling off another rope, she tossed that one at him, too. “Your ankles.”

He muttered something about how tying his ankles would’ve been easier with his hands free. “You could just accept my offer. We could help each other instead of this… unpleasantry.”

She said nothing, watching as he tied his legs. When he was finished, she opened the window.

The prince couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “You’re making a mistake. Whatever you’re planning, there’re too many guards. Yelena won’t let you walk away with her prize.”

Herprize. Castien was not aprize, and most definitely not–

Anais clamped down on her rage.

The wind was blowing harder than she liked. Climbing would be dangerous.

She searched the room briefly. A rolled-up sock would do. The prince should thank her for choosing a clean sock. “Open your mouth.”

He glared.

She put away her sword and grasped his chin in her claws. “Killing you does not serve my plans, but I will do so if you make it necessary. You are a convenient distraction, pirate. As soon as I leave, you may shout all you want. Now, open your mouth.”

He was slow to obey, his eyes darting back and forth with irritation and suspicion. Just before her patience snapped, his lips parted. “If this is intended to embarrass me, my guards have found me in more compromising–”

She shoved the sock in. He only jerked back once, an instinctive reaction more than determined struggling. Her claws pricked his cheeks, one threatening his eye. He went still with what looked like a grin. Damned insane pirates.

She propped two chairs against the door. There wasn’t enough time to do more.

Plucking a dagger from his belt, she held his hand open and cut sharply. A harsh breath inhaled through his nose.

“Oh, be quiet. You've probably had worse rope burns.”

To that, he chuckled. His hips lifted suggestively.

The man was definitely insane.

She collected his blood in a cup. He watched avidly, and she had the odd sense that he thought she was going to drink it. When enough dark liquid pooled in the bottom, she set the cup down a few feet from the door and tipped it over.

Then she slammed the pommel of her purloined dagger against the side of the prince's head. His eyes rolled, and he toppled over onto the bed, finally quiet.

Liberating a few more daggers and knives, she climbed out the window, glad the breeze had calmed.

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