Page 26 of Warrior Princess Assassin (Braided Fate #1)

It’s triggering a memory, and I almost shiver for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold. I frown and try to shake it off, but I have to look away. Of everything I’ve ever done, this is hardly the most awkward.

“Asher.”

Every time he says my name, it strikes something inside of me, and I’m not sure what it is. I glare at him, peeved. “Stop saying my name.”

He ignores me. “Do you truly believe other assassins will be sent to kill me and the princess?”

His voice is low, and there’s no challenge in his tone. This is a genuine question.

“Yes.” I tug and the belt comes loose, so I pull it wide and reach for the lacing of his trousers.

“And you believe that what you’ve done will keep her safe?”

He says this as if I’m not in the midst of unfastening his pants. I yank at the lacings, pulling each one free with quick efficiency. “I could have had her miles away by now,” I say. “But then we brought you.”

“That is not what I asked.” He pauses. “I can sense your worry. It’s clear you have no plan of action.”

If he said it with disdain, I’d punch him in the gut and leave him to piss all over himself.

But he doesn’t. He says it like a confidant. Like a friend who has to give you a hard truth.

“We’ll be fine,” I say flatly. His lacings finally give, and I tug his trousers wider, discovering that they’re lined with fur.

No wonder he’s not as cold as we are. But when I go to pull at his underclothes, my fingers brush against bare skin.

He gives a little flinch, a quick little indrawn breath.

I don’t even know what I touched, but I flush immediately .

“Your hands are cold,” he says, which doesn’t help.

His accent turns the words to honey, and that doesn’t help either.

I have no idea whether he’s free enough to urinate without getting any on himself, but I feel flushed and uncertain, and I’m not looking down now . I give one more downward tug for good measure, then take a step back and turn away. “Go ahead. I’ll be right back.”

I stride through the snow until I’m ten feet away, and I unlace my own trousers to do the same thing.

When I turn back, he’s dropped back a few paces, as if to demonstrate that he’s done. He’s kicked the snow over any evidence, too. But his trousers have slipped down his hips, revealing the pale curve of his buttocks.

I jerk my eyes away—until I realize I’m going to have to lace him back up. Heat crawls up my neck again, and I wish for my hooded jacket. There’s a part of me that just wants to leave him out here.

When I stop in front of him, I don’t hesitate. I just tug everything upward, my fingers brushing bare skin again. He doesn’t flinch this time, so I let go of his undergarments and jerk his trousers back together. It pulls us even closer.

“Is everything where it needs to be?” I say stiffly.

“Yes,” he says. “Thank you.”

He’s still looking me dead in the face. I nearly falter.

I have to look down to rethread the lacings, and I’m tempted to just thread one loop and be done with it.

The only thing that makes me do it thoroughly is the fact that I don’t want Jory to see him coming undone.

She flushed bright red when I curled up with her in her chambers, and that was fully clothed.

I thread the lacings carefully, our breath fogging between us again.

I don’t think he’s hard—because why would he be?

—but I’m very aware of the weight of him pressing against the lacings, especially each time my knuckles brush against his warmth.

I hate that he’s got me so rattled. The worst part is that I shouldn’t be.

Compared to my life with the slavers, this is nothing.

But then the knot is tied and I’m reaching for his utility belt, shoving these thoughts away.

He’s our captive, that’s it. A vicious king who’ll kill me if he gets loose.

He never would’ve spoken a word to me if I hadn’t forced him out of the palace.

I’m nothing. I’m no one. This is just the effect of my memories, of a life where touch and closeness could be wielded like a weapon.

I tug the belt, slip the prong through the middle hole, and tuck the length away.

“Thank you,” he says again.

I grunt and turn away.

He shuffles through the snow behind me as he follows. “That was an unexpected mercy, Asher.”

Something about that makes me flush in a different way. I don’t know what to say.

When I slip back through the door, he follows, moving almost as silently as I do.

Jory shifts again, but I hold my breath and ease the door closed.

She burrows more deeply into my jacket and settles.

She kept tucking her hands into the sleeves earlier, and I was kicking myself for not just kidnapping her .

Then we wouldn’t be in this mess at all.

I wish I had a quilt, or something else to give her.

But of course, I can never give her anything at all.

I glance at the small pile of wood again. I shouldn’t add more to the stove. It’s been hours, and I really don’t want to risk anyone seeing the smoke.

But then I look at her nearly pressed against the metal legs, as if she’d crawl into the stove to get warm.

The hell with it. I draw a ragged sigh and bury another small log in the burning embers. I think I’ll need to strike the flint again, but it catches almost immediately.

Jory blinks up at me. “Asher?” she murmurs.

“Shh,” I say softly. Without thinking, I stroke a hand across her hair, my thumb brushing over her eyebrow. “All is well. Rest.”

I don’t expect her to obey, but her eyes flutter closed again. This time she tugs the sleeve of the jacket into her chest and inhales deeply. It settles something in my heart.

When I look up, the king is watching me, and I almost wish I hadn’t touched her.

I ignore him and turn away. “Just sit,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Like I said, we’ll be out of here by nightfall.” Then I move away from Jory and sit against the wall where I was before.

The king watches this, but he doesn’t sit. He studies the princess for a long moment, then crosses the short space of the room toward me.

I immediately go tense, ready to spring to my feet. “I told you to sit ,” I say, fighting to keep my voice low.

“I am sitting.” He leans against the wall beside me, then eases to the ground, bracing his back against the wall. It leaves a foot of space between us, and his hands are still bound, but I’m locked in place, debating whether to flee or to stay.

I have no idea what to make of this.

The king nods toward the door. “If I try to talk to you from there, we might wake her.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“You intend to drag the princess out of here in the dead of night, on foot, with no horse, no cloak, and no supplies.” He looks me right in the eyes. “You are going to talk to me, Asher.”

I set my jaw and turn to stare at the flickering within the stove.

“Even if you allow her to keep your jacket,” he says, “I doubt her boots have dried. She won’t be able to walk far.”

I say nothing.

“And it leaves you with nothing against the snow,” he continues. “Even if you manage to survive the weather, surely you know there will be guards and soldiers searching through the night.”

I draw my knees up to my chest and rest my arms on them. I hate that he’s right about all of it.

“ You could leave,” he says. “Take my coins and flee if you so fear the other Hunters. You are right that I need the princess to finalize this alliance—it’s the very reason I followed you. And I truly can keep her safe.”

“I’m not leaving Jory.”

“Even if it means you put her at risk?”

That hits me like a sledgehammer, and I almost flinch. I hate that I might have put her in a more dangerous situation than she was in already.

I never should have agreed to this.

You said you would do whatever needed doing.

This didn’t need doing. But she kept staring up at me with those eyes, like I could be her savior. She’s the only person who’s ever looked at me like that. She could have told me to throw myself off a parapet, and I would’ve asked which one.

When I speak, my voice is rough. “If I leave, she’ll cut you loose. You’ll turn me into a pile of ash five seconds later.”

“No. If you choose to leave, I will not pursue you.”

“Shut up.” I glare at him. “Of course you will.”

He looks back at me implacably. “I won’t. You offered me a mercy. So I will offer you one in return.”

My heart gives a little thump in my chest. I jerk my eyes back around to stare at the fire.

“If you spoke the truth about my soldier,” he says, “then you’ve taken nothing from me but time.” His eyes flick skyward, and he gives his bindings a small tug, then grimaces. “Well. Possibly the use of my shoulders, too. But my offer stands.”

“No.”

“If the two of you walk out of here as you are, you won’t survive the night. I rode through this weather to get here. The danger is real.”

His voice is so calm, so reasonable. As if to emphasize his point, a gust of wind rattles the door and whistles around the frame.

“I’ll find us more gear,” I say.

“And how long will that—”

“I told you to shut up,” I growl, finally snapping my head around to look at him. “So stop talking.”

He shuts up. But he doesn’t look away. It’s progressively getting more dim in the room, and the firelight gleams in his eyes.

It’s too intense, and it makes me think of the way we were standing in the snow, my fingers threading the lacings of his trousers. I’m the one who has to turn away.

I heave an unsettled breath. I should’ve just killed him.

Damn it, Jory .

Less than a day ago, I was curled around her in bed. She pulled at my gloves and begged me to stay. I kissed her goodbye, and it took everything inside of me to keep it from turning into more.

Would I have been so reckless if that hadn’t happened?

The king speaks into my silence. “You seemed upset with the princess when she mentioned these slavers .”

I’m quiet for a moment because I’m not sure what to say to that. “I wasn’t upset with her.”

“You were.”