Page 37 of Warrior Princess Assassin (Braided Fate #1)

Chapter Eighteen

The Assassin

T he inn sports a tavern on the first level, and it probably wasn’t crowded when we arrived, but the addition of the king’s men, along with the princess and her lady, means the room is rather full when we walk in.

Warm, too. Jory spots us almost instantly, but so do the other soldiers.

This is already humiliating enough, so I grit my teeth and keep my head down.

I still feel every pair of eyes in the tavern look from the king to me, and then to the chain linking us together.

I wish I had my jacket, so I could hide under the hood.

The Incendrian soldiers might be unfamiliar, but I know what this looks like to every single citizen from Astranza.

I’ve got a shackle on my wrist and seven stripes on my face.

Probably a fair share of bruises, too. The spot where Dane split my lip still stings.

I hear a sharply indrawn breath, and I glance up to see a mix of shock and anger wash over Jory’s expression.

I have no idea what she finds the most infuriating, whether it’s the blood that’s surely on my neck or the bruising that’s left over from my treatment in the dungeon.

Or maybe it’s just the chain tethering me to the king.

Her hands are planted against the table, and she looks ready to march over here to punch him in the face.

Ah, Jory . She couldn’t stop her brother, so I doubt she can do anything now.

I never wanted her to see me like this.

The tavern keeper stops in front of us, blocking her view. He looks from the king to Garrett, and then, very briefly, to me. He’s an older man with a heavy paunch and thick gray hair that’s thinning on top and pulled into a knot at the back of his head. His eyes aren’t unkind, but he looks tired.

“As I told the other soldiers,” he says apologetically, “we don’t have much left.

Everyone’s been after a hot meal since the decree was lifted, and it’s late.

But we’ve got ale, and we’ve got a bit of stew left over the fire.

” He casts a dubious glance at the others, then back at us.

“It should be enough to share, if you don’t mind meager portions.

A few loaves are left, too, but we’ll have more in the morning. ”

Meager portions . My stomach clenches hard. I’ve seen the size of his soldiers. That means I won’t be eating.

Nothing new there.

“We’ll make do,” the king says. “You have our gratitude.”

The tavern keeper glances at the crest of Incendar in the center of his armor.

A worried line appears between his eyebrows.

“Ladies of the court are with you. Will your king be coming through tonight as well?” His hands curl together, his knuckles showing white.

“We’re all very worried about our princess.

Your king is such a harsh man, and Princess Marjoriana is such a kind creature. ..or so the stories say.”

“You have nothing to fear,” Ky says. His tone is resigned, and something about that is surprising. “Our king will not be stopping on his journey. And no harm will come to your princess.”

“Good!” the tavern keeper says, clearly relieved.

This man is the king , I want to shout. Right here! There are enough of you. Kill him while you can .

But Ky would probably break my jaw before I could get all that out. I know Garrett would.

I need to get away from them. If I can get away, I can figure out a way to get Jory away.

Being chained to the king is going to present a problem. As usual, I’m powerless to help her.

I clench my jaw and glare at the ground again.

The tavern keeper continues, “I can have my son take your bonded man to the stable.”

The king is silent for a moment, and I hear the confusion in his voice when he says, “The footmen will see to the horses. If you could send a meal to them as well, I’d be grateful.”

“No, your bonded man ,” the tavern keeper says. “Unless...” His eyebrows flick up suggestively. “Unless he’s of the kind you like to keep at hand.”

The king is staring at him like he’s speaking a different language. A frown line on his forehead deepens. “I’ll...keep him at hand,” he says.

“Ah, yes. Very well, then. I’ll see to your meals.” The tavern keeper turns away. “If you take a seat at the end, I can bring you a straw mat. If you like.”

The king glances at Garrett, who looks just as puzzled, and is maybe a bit angry about it. Poor baby.

This would be hilarious if I weren’t the one being discussed like a piece of livestock.

The king runs a hand over his face. “Why would I want a straw mat?” he demands.

“Oh!” says the tavern keeper. “Of course.” His eyes flick to the lines on my cheek. He must catch a glimpse of the blazing fury in my eyes, because his gaze skips away immediately. “No mat for this one, then. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

I scowl. The man dashes away before saying anything else.

The king sighs, but he must be too hungry and tired to care too much, because he turns toward the table.

I follow because I have no choice. Garrett moves to the far end, but the king heads for the closer side, across from the princess and his captain.

She refuses to look at him, glaring at the wall behind him instead, her eyes iced over.

Good girl. I hope she kicks him in the crotch.

There’s a short bench here, and the king slides down to sit across from the princess, leaving enough room for me.

That’s a little surprising—but I can’t take it.

Instead, I drop to sit cross-legged on the floor beside the table.

It puts me right beside the boots of the king and his captain, and I can barely see Jory and the others beyond the edge.

Maddox Kyronan draws up the chain sharply, then glares down at me like I’m deliberately being difficult. “Asher. Sit —”

“I can’t ,” I snap, and my voice is louder than I intend. “It’s forbidden.”

He stares back at me. So does his captain. Even the tables nearby fall silent, watching. They’re probably expecting him to backhand me across the face, which is exactly what would happen if he were my keeper and I really had been sold by one of the slavers.

But the king’s eyes are locked on me. “Explain,” he says.

Heat crawls up my cheeks, because Jory is looking, too.

This is degrading in a new way, and I didn’t expect it.

If Jory ever left the company of royalty, she’d know.

If the king were Astranzan, he’d know. His gaze is so intense, and I have to look away, glaring past him.

“If I sit at the table, the innkeeper will make me move. It’s forbidden.

That’s why he offered the straw mat. Look.

” I nod across the room, where a man sits at a table near the hearth and a middle-aged woman is curled up on a stretch of fur at his feet.

She’s not chained, but the position is clear.

The king is absolutely silent. I have no idea what expression is on his face.

“I will un forbid it,” Jory whispers from beside Captain Zale. “You will not sit on the floor , Asher.”

Lady Charlotte leans in to murmur. “If you make a proclamation, it may give away your identity.” She pauses, glancing at me briefly before looking back at the princess. “And he’s right. It is forbidden for a bonded citizen to sit at the table.”

Jory clenches her jaw, and her angry eyes flash to the king. “You will unchain him, then.”

“No.” His voice is flat. “He destroyed my carriage and tried to kill Garrett. And that’s just in the last five minutes. I’m not putting anyone else at risk.”

Jory’s eyes swing back to me, but I refuse to look up.

None of the others say anything, but I can feel their focus, too.

A barmaid appears with a tray laden with steins of ale and baskets of small muffins and loaves, and thankfully, that breaks the strained silence.

She doesn’t acknowledge my presence, which is unsurprising.

The room is warm from the hearth, but the cold of the stone floor begins to seep into my joints.

I can smell the steaming bread, and I swallow and stare at the legs of the soldiers under the table.

Captain Zale has a long dagger in a sheath strapped to his thigh, and it’s right in front of me.

Tempting, but I’m not that stupid.

I might be later, though.

When the king reaches for his ale, the chain rattles against the edge of the table, tugging at my wrist. Hunger and thirst claw at my gut, and I fold my other arm against my belly, keeping my eyes locked on the boots under the table.

“Asher.” The king’s voice pierces my awareness, and just like every time he says my name, my insides feel a tug. “Here. Drink.”

When I look up, he’s holding out the stein.

I don’t reach for it. He tricked me once, and this feels like a trap. Like I’ll take the stein and he’ll knock it into my lap.

But my mouth is watering, and I can’t help but swallow.

“Don’t refuse just to spite me.” The edge has faded from his voice, and his accent turns every word to honey again. “Take it . ”

I obey. This feels like a different kind of yielding, and I hate it. It makes me want to take the tiniest sip possible and shove it back at him.

But as soon as the taste fills my mouth, that’s not an option. I can’t remember the last time I had a drop of water, and this is good ale, sweet and cold, with a hint of sugar. I drink like a child, wild gulps that are too fast.

“Easy,” says the king, and his voice is still mild.

“I don’t want to drag your drunk body around.

Here.” He’s got a small loaf of bread this time, and he breaks it in two, holding out half toward me.

It’s so fresh that steam pours from inside.

The ale has made my hunger flare, and my stomach gives a wrench.

But after the way he acted in the snow, I’m waiting for him to fuck with me.

I set down the stein and clench my fists so hard that my nails dig into my palms.