Page 12 of Warrior Princess Assassin (Braided Fate #1)

I nod. “Understood.” If she has to send another Hunter after me, I wouldn’t hear the end of it. I could kiss any decent assignment goodbye.

It would almost be worse than disappearing for months and having everyone think I was whoring my money away.

Then again, Pavok would probably sell me back to the slavers anyway. I’d rather he send someone to kill me—though I suppose that wouldn’t put any coins in his pocket.

There’s a space under the gathering room where Hunters can go to privately read their orders—and then burn them. But it’s underground and windowless—and likely freezing right now. Without the hearth or a lantern, I wouldn’t be able to read anything at all.

Anyone else would have private quarters where they could go, but I have nothing. If I open these orders here, Rachel and Hammish are surely going to watch, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll dunk them in the mop bucket when I’m done.

I carry the bound leather to one of the distant tables near a window, then draw my dagger to cut the lacings. When I slice through the first, a smooth piece of parchment slips free. A sheen of gold is stamped at the top, and it gives me pause.

The royal seal. This order was sanctioned by the Crown. That means it’s someone of political importance—likely someone in the palace.

My heart gives a kick, but I keep my face perfectly still.

I read quickly, looking for the name of the target and the location where they can be found. Sometimes a requested method is even included, and for this amount of money and preparation, I expect it.

When I get halfway down the page, my eyes freeze on the name.

MADDOX KYRONAN, KING OF INCENDAR

Of course it’s him. I should have figured. Half the country is afraid of the man—including Dane, considering the way he spoke to Jory. I probably should have guessed before I even sliced the leather open. No one is paying this kind of money to put a blade in some simple nobleman.

But...sanctioned by the Crown? Does that mean King Theodore? Or Prince Dane? Neither makes sense. The death of Maddox Kyronan would put an end to their precious alliance.

Unless that’s the intent. I just don’t know why .

But it doesn’t matter. He’s powerless without his magic, and Jory’s terrified of him. With the king dead, she’d have no reason to leave Astranza. An hour ago, I thought I would never see her again, but now my blood is rushing at the possibility of coming through her window once more.

More confident, I slice through the lacings of the second order. If the first is for the king, then this will likely be someone in his retinue, someone too close to the king to be left alive.

But it’s not.

MARJORIANA, PRINCESS OF ASTRANZA

At first, I think I must have misread. But as my eyes rove over the letter, catching on her name again and again, reality grabs hold of my heart.

Jory. This can’t be possible. I want to shove these orders back at Rachel and refuse.

But of course I can’t . I’ve already read them, so I’m committed now. I’ve seen Hunters executed for less. We all take an oath, and we all know the penalties.

Besides, even if I did, the Guild would just assign these killings to someone else.

No one here cares who the target is. We’re paid not to care.

If I refuse, they’ll pass this on to someone like Gunnar, who’ll read them impassively, sharpen his blades, and have throats slit before breakfast. He’ll be sitting here laughing with the barkeep before the bodies are cold.

Rachel and Hammish are still watching me, so I will my heartbeat to slow. I keep my eyes fixed on the order, as if there are numerous details I need to commit to memory.

I force myself to breathe. To read. To think .

There’s no royal seal on this one, so it’s not sanctioned by the Crown.

Maybe these really did come in separately.

Though I can’t imagine Master Pavok would accept an order to kill the princess—unless the price was high enough.

With a sealed order, this would be the only proof that the Guild was even involved.

I skip to the bottom, looking for details. I see how much was paid, confirmed with the Guildmaster’s receipt mark and signature.

But then my eyes stop. It takes a moment for me to figure out why, and then I realize what’s unusual. I see how it was paid.

Incendrian silver.

My blood goes cold. Not with fear. With fury.

I might have been trapped in Morinstead for months, but I still have my weapons, and I still have my skills.

I keep my expression neutral, but I roll up the orders, folding them down into the palm of my hand.

Then I stride across the room to dunk my fist in the bucket of icy water, giving it a little splash for good measure.

“Midday, Ash,” Rachel calls.

As if I need the reminder. I lift a hand in acknowledgment, then slip into the shadows.

Once I’m alone, I check for the familiar weight of my blades, and rage grips my spine.

What if he hurts me?

Her voice was so small. So innocent.

Ah, Jory.

I made her a promise, and I meant it.

I know what I have to do.