Page 25 of Warrior Princess Assassin (Braided Fate #1)

Chapter Twelve

The Assassin

W e could’ve been in the inn by now. Jory rarely leaves the palace without a full entourage, so it’s not like she’d be recognized.

We could’ve been tucked away in the corner of a room somewhere, sharing a quiet meal, making a plan for how to evade all of the people who’d be looking for her.

She’d be woefully unprepared for life outside the palace, but I could’ve kept her safe.

Instead, I’ve kidnapped the most violent man on the continent.

Trackers are surely searching for all three of us.

If the king gets free, I’ll be a charred corpse in seconds.

If the Astranzan palace guards find us, I’ll be thrown in the dungeon and sold off to slavers anyway.

If the Hunter’s Guild sends Logan or Gunnar, either one of them will kill us all.

All of these threats are very real, the weight of them pressing down until it’s hard to breathe. The last thing I expect to do is sleep .

But I do.

When my eyes flick open, I have a moment of disoriented panic.

My face is pressed into my arm, and I’m curled against the stone floor.

For a moment, I think I’m still trapped in Morinstead, that all of this has been a dream.

I have to remind myself that I’m not in a cell, that there are no chains to rattle when I move.

There are no guards waiting to tether me over a rail while they take their pleasure, no foremen handing over coins while they sell me away to the highest bidder.

The small hut has gone dim, the fire in the stove reduced to glowing embers, though it’s still warm.

Almost too warm, which is probably why I fell asleep.

Jory seems to have fallen victim to the same exhaustion. She was awake most of the night, too. She’s curled up on the floor directly in front of the stove, using my jacket as a pillow.

The king is still leaning against the wall, and I think he’s asleep as well, but when I shift my weight to sit up, his eyes open instantly.

Something in his expression makes me go still, and I try to shake it off, dodging his gaze. His constant focus knots up my shoulders with tension.

Not because he’s a threat. Not even because of what I’ve done.

It’s the way he watches me, his gaze unflinching. The way he talks to me, with no disdain or arrogance. He’s very forthright. Very candid. And maybe a bit of a prick, but no more than I deserve.

If you don’t shut up and look away, I said, I’m going to cut your eyes out.

The way he looked back at me was so piercing. Then do it, Asher.

I’ve never held anyone’s focus like this. I’m barely used to anyone even looking at me—except for Jory.

“How long did I sleep?” I say softly, so as not to wake her.

There’s a part of me that doesn’t expect him to answer, but he does. “A few hours, maybe. I have no way to measure.”

I glance over, but his features are in shadow now, the dim light pulling a glow from his hair, along with a few glints on the buckles of his armor.

He’s a bit striking, which I didn’t expect.

Jory could do worse, I suppose. I’m sure he’s formidable on the battlefield, because he seems fearless.

Daring, too. Between that and the purr of his accent, it’s no wonder Jory melts every time he speaks to her.

Last night, she seemed revolted by the idea of having a pile of children with this man, but now that she’s met him, I half expect her to ask if they should start trying right here.

Allow this to be our first test of loyalty. I can protect you.

Her lips parted, and her eyes went soft. She was ready to draw a dagger and cut him free on the spot.

I don’t want to be jealous. I don’t.

But I am.

The worst part is that I’m not so much jealous of their attraction as I’m jealous of everything else .

If I hadn’t gotten these orders, they’d be finalizing their alliance.

Jory would be allowing her ladies to stitch her into that wedding gown without a hint of resistance.

The king’s men would be clapping him on the shoulder and smiling.

He and Jory would be riding back to Incendar in his carriage, swearing to protect each other.

Leaving me behind.

Because I’d be... here . Alone. No one’s ever going to swear a thing to me.

No vows, no promises, not even a flicker of fleeting interest. Not with these marks on my face that ensure no one will ever look at me with anything but scorn or disdain.

Not when the one place that ever felt safe is going to be an empty chamber in the palace.

Stars in darkness, I have to shove these thoughts away.

It’s not as if I even need protection. What I need is to stop brooding and figure out a plan—because as much as I hate it, the king was right about that.

Jory has no warm clothing, no way to travel after dark.

I don’t have any money. I could steal the king’s coins, but showing up at a merchant stall with a handful of Incendrian silver will look a little suspicious.

I could steal clothing from somewhere, but we’re a mile away from anything, and I don’t like the idea of leaving Jory alone with the king that long.

Not because I’m worried he’d hurt her. He’d convince her to let him go.

And what I told her was true. If we’re caught, she might be fine, but I definitely wouldn’t be.

Even if I believe that he has nothing to do with these orders to kill the princess—which I’m not sure I do—if I’m caught by anyone at all, it would not go well for me.

Right now, our only advantage is distance from the palace—and the fact that we haven’t been found.

Even if his men discovered the access point to the sewers, there’d be no way to follow our tracks.

And that’s not even considering the Hunter’s Guild.

Logan and Gunnar definitely know the sewers—though they wouldn’t know which way I’d go.

That said, there’s a limited number of escape routes, and this is one of them.

My only hope is that news of their disappearance will take time to reach the Guildmaster.

Hopefully, Jory and I will be long gone by then.

“Asher.”

The king’s quiet voice gives me a jolt, and I jerk my head up. My heart stutters at the way he says my name.

“What?” I say.

He glances at the princess and keeps his voice low. “Not to be indiscreet, but I have needs that would be better met outside this room.” As I turn that around in my head, he adds, “If I’m forced to soak my trousers, I doubt anyone will find it enjoyable.”

Oh.

I stare at him, deliberating. I hadn’t really considered this.

His eyes narrow, like I’m an idiot. “I need to take a piss, Asher.”

What an asshole. I glare at him. “You won’t trick me into letting you go.”

“I know.” He glares right back at me. “But I am giving you fair warning.”

That sounds like the truth—and maybe it is. Because I also have needs that would be “better met outside this room.” I’ve shared space with people left to soil themselves, and it is not enjoyable. Not just the smell, but the humiliation. The indignity.

I’m not doing that to someone else. Not even this man.

I shove myself to my feet and move across the small space. “Fine. Let’s go.” I grab hold of his arm and haul upward. He doesn’t make a sound, but it must hurt, because he draws a sharp breath and scrambles to get his tied feet underneath him.

I automatically loosen my grip. “Sorry.”

I say it without thinking, but his eyes shift my way in surprise, and I scowl. I should be forcing him out into the snow at knifepoint, not apologizing for being too rough.

This is why it’s easier to just kill people. I only need to be terrifying for a second.

The princess shifts a little in her sleep, and the king and I both freeze. I hate that he’s as worried about waking her as I am. But then she goes still again, her breath evening out.

“Come on,” I whisper, dropping my voice so we don’t disturb her again. I tug him toward the door and ease it open.

After the warmth of the room, the cold is vicious, the wind sharp enough to make my eyes water.

A few inches of snow have joined what was there before, so our tracks are well and truly obscured.

I don’t see any new ones either, which means no one has come this way.

The sky has gone dim, shifting to that gray that preludes twilight, and I realize it’s been more than just a few hours.

The king shuffles into the snow beside me, hobbled by his knotted bootlaces. I think of all the brutal stories I’ve heard about Maddox Kyronan, and it’s weird to consider that he’s right here, bound and helpless, needing to pee.

Despite all those stories, however, I heard the conviction in his voice when he declared that no one from Incendar had hired the Hunter’s Guild. I can see why Jory believes him.

I almost believe him, and I opened the bound orders myself. I know what measures the Guildmaster takes to verify an order—and I saw the manner of payment. Even still, there’s a part of me that wishes I could unbind him, that we could flee to safety together.

But of course I can’t.

When we’re ten feet away from the door and into the trees, I bite back a shiver, and I turn to face him. “This is far enough.”

I don’t know if he expected me to untie him anyway, but I’m not that stupid.

Instead, I reach for the strap of the utility belt that hangs at his hips, tugging the leather out of the buckle.

It forces us close, and our fogging breath is snatched away by the wind.

I don’t look down at what I’m doing, because I don’t want to make this less dignified than it needs to be, but he looks right back at me, his golden eyes holding mine.

Fine. He wants to be bold? I can be bold.

But then the buckle gives, and my fingers hesitate. We’re so close that we could share breath, and for a moment, I’m struck by the fact that this is the first time I’ve been this close to another man where he is bound and I am not.