Page 2 of Warrior Princess Assassin (Braided Fate #1)

He never hated me as a child; he simply didn’t care—especially since there were more important things to worry about.

Rumors of attacks from Draegonis had just begun to spread, and Father’s weather magic suddenly had to protect our borders instead of simply providing our people with food.

Back then, no one was panicked, especially since Dane was still young.

There was still the potential for the crown prince to develop skills with magic, just like Father.

But then he didn’t.

In peacetime, it might not have mattered.

But Draegonis sought our fertile farmland—and Incendar’s steel.

Attempts to negotiate for peace went unanswered.

When the Draegs attacked, they came on strong.

They’re the largest country on the continent, and they’d clearly been planning to overwhelm our borders for some time.

We were lucky to have Father’s weather magic, because he could call pummeling storms to the border anytime we received word of an invasion.

The Draegs attacked Incendar, too, but they weren’t able to make much progress.

Maddox Kyronan’s kingdom might be the smallest, but the mountains of Incendar provide a natural barrier, and weapons forged from Incendrian steel are nearly unbreakable.

The king’s army is fierce and violent—to say nothing of his fire magic.

Astranza, by comparison, struggled. We’d never been a warring country, and our people began to worry about what would happen if Draegonis managed to breach our borders—if our king were to fall.

My father was kept off the battlefield, his magic protected.

When it became clear that Dane didn’t inherit his talents, everyone’s desperate sights turned to me.

I was given tutors and guides, and I spent years trying every sigil, every potion, every rune, waiting for any sign of a gift. It’s known that magic—while rare—runs in families, and when the magic skipped Dane, everyone was certain it would manifest in me.

I used to sit beside Father, practicing the sigils, always so hopeful when I could generate a flicker of power in the air—then crestfallen when nothing further would manifest. If he wasn’t present, I couldn’t summon so much as a spark.

Mother always sat beside me, her smile gentle and encouraging. “Don’t fret,” she’d say when I got frustrated. “The magic will find you when it’s ready, Jory.”

It’s never been ready.

I shouldn’t feel regret and remorse for that, but I do. Mother died a year later, when I was fifteen, killed when thieves ambushed a carriage she was riding in. Maybe if I’d had magic, I would’ve been able to stop it.

As it was, Asher and I could do nothing but watch.

We were riding in the carriage behind, and Asher dove to cover me when the bandits started shooting.

My mother took two arrows through the chest before we even knew what was happening.

Asher’s mother, Lady Clara, was the queen’s first lady-in-waiting—and Mother’s closest friend.

I still remember the sound of her screaming.

Not like this , she kept shouting. Not like this.

Asher’s mother died, too. But not during that attack. Because of it. Those desperate words were repeated at her trial. My brother said they confirmed her guilt, that she was somehow involved in the crime. I always felt they were a declaration of her sorrow.

I shouldn’t be thinking about this. Memories of Mother are too painful, and my heart already aches from everything happening now .

When Lady Clara was bound for execution and Asher was exiled, I begged Dane to intercede.

He refused. Our mother was dead, and he stood there coldly while my closest friend was dragged out of the palace in chains.

I sobbed at my brother’s feet, pleading for him to make it stop.

That was ten years ago, and I’ve never forgiven him.

He’s still glaring at the seamstress, who’s stopped sliding pins through the fabric and now looks ready to cower.

“It’s dark,” I snap at Dane. “And freezing. Maybe your staff can handle their work in these conditions, but intricate stitching requires fingers that aren’t frozen. But by all means, we can stop immediately.”

“You are to meet your future husband in the morning. It’s nearly midnight.”

“Oh?” I say breezily. “I thought I was to meet the king of Incendar. Is he bringing my future husband with him?”

He clenches his jaw. “ Marjoriana —”

“And I simply do not know why you care about the state of my sleep or my gown or anything to do with me at all,” I add. “You’re clearly determined to send me away.”

“You are not being sent away ,” he seethes.

“You’re right. I’m not. I’ve told you a thousand times that I will not be accepting this proposal.

Just as I won’t be pawed at by some land baron who wants to advance his political ambitions, I refuse to wed some king who wants a trophy for slaughtering men on the battlefield.

You could have saved everyone a lot of trouble if you’d listened to me a month ago.

” I look down at the seamstress. “Please continue,” I say gently. “You must be tired.”

Dane glares at me, his jaw set. The woman gives him a narrow glance and moves to adjust another pin. This time when she pokes me, I don’t move a muscle.

Charlotte looks from me to my brother and clears her throat. “Perhaps I could call for some tea—”

“Yes,” says Dane. “Leave us. Both of you.”

The seamstress bobs another quick curtsy, and then she practically runs from the room.

Charlotte doesn’t. Her eyes are on me, and she’s waiting for my answer.

“Tea would be lovely,” I say, meaning it. I’m absolutely freezing. “Thank you.”

Though as soon as she’s through the door, I realize the tea will be just as cold as everything else right now. I frown.

“Marjoriana,” my brother says, stepping close to me. “I have endured your silly rebellion long enough. I will not have you making declarations of your refusal —”

“My rebellion isn’t silly. The fact that you chose to engineer an alliance without my participation was silly.”

“I am the crown prince! Acting regent in Father’s stead! I do not need to defer to you.”

As if he ever would. “I am your sister,” I say. “You could spare a thought to my well-being.”

“Your well-being!” He looks like he wants to knock me off the stool.

“Yes. You’re marrying me off to a man who burns people to ash when they displease him, so it’s only a matter of time.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Your well-being has been thoroughly negotiated. The terms of our alliance are very clear.”

“Oh, really!” I exclaim. “I would love to read the details, then. Am I to bed him on certain nights? Is there a monthly quota I must fulfill?”

He clenches his jaw again, and thunderclouds roll through his eyes.

But he says nothing.

My eyes flare wide. “Dane!” I say. “Surely that is not in your contract.”

“As I said: thoroughly negotiated.”

I step down off the dressmaker’s platform and stride forward, my hand swinging before I’m even fully aware of what I’m doing.

I should know better. Dane trains with the best soldiers in the army, and I.

..don’t. My brother catches my hand in midair, gripping my wrist tight as I struggle.

His fingers dig in tight before he lets me twist free.

The action leaves me panting and glaring up at him, a few of those pins poking into my breast now.

I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me rub my wrist.

His hands are in fists, however, and his eyes are dark with anger. For an eternal second, my breath catches. He’s never hit me, but the air carries the promise of what he wants to do.

When he speaks, his voice is deathly quiet. “I cannot believe this,” he says. “I’ve spent months trying to protect Astranza, and you’re going to spend five minutes undoing it. You act like I’m tying you to his bed for the rest of your life. You know a magical heir would only benefit Astranza.”

I do know that—but I hate that I’m being forced to produce this magical heir with a man who could set me ablaze in the process. “Have you promised that he can do it as soon as he gets here? Should I be ready on the bed?”

“You’re being a child.”

“I’m being a princess. I should be involved in these negotiations. I care for Astranza just as much as you do.”

“If you care for Astranza, you should be thinking of your people . He’s coming here in good faith, to pledge his armies to defend us.”

“Good faith!” I point at the cold hearth. “If he’s coming in good faith, then why is every hearth dark?” I point at the frost-edged window, where snow swirls in the moonlight. “Why is the entire kingdom dark?”

“He can’t call fire from nothing. You know that.”

“You think his soldiers won’t carry flint?” I say. “What’s to stop him from lighting his own fire?”

That muscle in his jaw twitches again, which genuinely makes me think Dane hasn’t considered this.

Idiot . This is why I should be a part of the negotiations. I wonder what else he hasn’t considered.

“If you’re so worried about his magic,” I say, “why don’t you just have the archers shoot him when he gets here? It’s not as if he’s bringing an army.”

“Would you stop being so ridiculous?” he demands. “We’re forming an alliance to have a chance at ending this war! I’m not starting another one!”

“But you’re worried,” I press. “You’re worried he’s not coming in good faith and he’s going to turn us all to cinders in our beds. And you’re still willing to send me away with some wicked, spiteful, terrible man I’ve never seen—”

“I’m not worried about him,” he snaps. “I’m worried about you. ”

“Well, you certainly don’t seem very worried.”