Page 39 of Warrior Princess Assassin (Braided Fate #1)

I jerk away, the chain rattling. The empty bowl clatters to the stone floor, and the chain goes taut between us.

I glare up at him. “Don’t touch me.”

His arm is suspended from the tension I’m putting on the chain. “You’re also leaking through your shirt.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Is it a burn? Let me see.”

“No.”

His men have fallen silent, ready for trouble, their focus locked on this end of the table again. Even from across the room, Callum has looked over. Jory leans around the captain to peer at me, too.

I clench my jaw. I wish the king had told the innkeeper to have his boy lock me in the stables after all.

The taut chain is straining my shoulder, and I realize I probably am leaking through my shirt. The mark aches like I can still feel the heat of the metal. It’ll weep and sting for days. I remember.

“It’s nothing,” I grind out. “It’ll heal.”

The king glances at the princess, and then back at me. “Asher,” he says, his tone lower. My gut clenches when he says my name. “They did something to you. Show me.”

My breathing feels too fast. If he were threatening me or ordering his men to hold me down, I’d know how to respond.

I’d snatch that dagger right off Captain Zale’s thigh and fight the whole way.

His men would eventually overpower me or he’d use his magic to force me into submission, and then he’d rip the tunic free and look at whatever he wanted.

No one would stop him. Half the people here would probably watch.

But this is like that moment outside. He hasn’t made a threat, and he hasn’t raised a hand. He just waits, his golden-brown eyes holding mine. No expectation, no demand, just those simple words hanging in the air between us.

They did something to you. Show me.

I can see why his men are so loyal, because there’s a shadow of guardianship here, of protection , that’s completely foreign to me. It reminds me of the moment he asked about the slavers, or the way he promised sanctuary. The way he said he would know Astranza’s faults as well as its promise.

The way he said, You’re mine right now.

Like he’ll start a war if he doesn’t like what he sees.

Sudden longing tightens my chest, and it’s so unexpected that my breath almost catches. Fuck. Fuck.

Because I hate him. He already tricked me once, in exactly this way.

But something deep inside me craves every emotion that his voice evokes.

Something inside me trusts him, despite all he’s done and all that’s happened.

I’ve been broken a thousand different ways, but never like this.

Never with choice . Never with patience .

So I let the chain go slack, link by link, and I crawl forward, returning to where I was. I lower my head so he can see, bracing myself.

When his fingers brush against the nape of my neck, my heart gives a jolt. Sweat has gathered in the small of my back, and my mouth goes dry. I realize I’m holding my breath.

This is foolish. I force myself to exhale, and it sounds like I’ve run a mile.

The king hasn’t moved his hand any farther. He’s waiting, his fingers warm against my skin.

“I don’t know what’s been done,” he says to me, and his voice is even lower. “But I won’t hurt you.”

That tightness in my throat refuses to let go, and I can feel every muscle in my body, taut and ready to spring.

But his hand waits, a warm pressure on the back of my neck, and after a moment, my eyes fall closed.

My palms press into my knees. In another place or time, I could almost imagine myself as something other than a bruised captive chained on the ground.

I could be a friend seeking comfort. A lover offering his body.

A warrior kneeling at the feet of his king. ..and his queen.

But this man is not my king, and Jory isn’t my queen. I’m nothing to their alliance. I’m nothing to the war .

I’m no one. A shadow.

It’s almost enough to make me shrug off his touch. But I can’t quite make myself pull away. My breathing has slowed, some of the ready tension easing out of my muscles.

“May I see?” he says. My eyes are still closed, and his voice is so quiet that we could be the only two people in the room.

I nod, feeling drunk on his touch. Is this his magic? It must be.

He tugs at the neckline of the prison tunic, and I didn’t realize how much the wound wept, because pain sears through my back as the fabric begins to pull away.

I choke back a yelp, catching the sound in my fist, my teeth pressing into my knuckles.

The captain swears under his breath, and behind me, Jory inhales sharply.

Somehow I’d forgotten our audience, and I didn’t realize she’d moved.

Every muscle goes taut again, ready to jerk away.

“Easy.” The king’s hand settles over the nape of my neck, his thumb brushing through the hair behind my ear. “Be still, Asher.”

It’s so unexpected, and it grabs my focus. Then he does it again, and the motion of his thumb is soothing and gentle and I don’t want him to stop.

All the vicious stories we’ve heard about the king of Incendar, and he’s holding me in place with nothing more than a few words and the weight of his hand.

“Asher,” Jory whispers, and I can hear the tremor in her breath. That, more than anything, tells me how bad it looks.

But then her voice tightens right up. “I told you,” she says, low and furious, and I realize she’s speaking to the king. “I told you to let him go.”

“And I told you why I couldn’t,” he says, his voice just as low. “You know why I couldn’t. Meanwhile, you accuse me of torture, while the royal family of Astranza enslaves their citizens and brands them like livestock.”

“That is not the way of things here,” she snaps, and my heart thumps.

It is the way of things here.

“Then explain it to me.” The king’s voice is still low, but his fury matches hers. “Your brother might not hold the iron, but he surely gives the order. See for yourself. It’s hardly the first time it’s been done.”

I go rigid, because I don’t want her to see. But the king’s thumb brushes through my hair again, and it holds me still.

Then I feel the brush of Jory’s skirts against the bare skin of my feet.

She touches my shoulder, her fingertips light and cool, such a contrast to the king’s.

It sends another jolt right through my body.

Both of them touching me at once strikes a chord deep in my heart, making this shared stroke of fingers against my skin far more intimate than it should be.

I never let anyone touch me—I never want anyone to touch me.

But just now, I don’t want them to let go.

For a flicker of time, I imagine their hands exploring further.

Her cool fingers tracing their way down my chest, his strong hand buried in my hair, holding me still, just like this.

Without warning, my cock stiffens, and my breath catches.

“ Enough. ” I jerk my head back and smack his hand away. The chain rattles and goes taut again.

My desire has no place here. I’m a prisoner, nothing more. They’re destined to marry each other.

They’re looking at me in surprise, and my heart keeps slamming against my ribs.

It’s only then that I realize Lady Charlotte is beside Jory.

Two of the soldiers have risen from the table to flank the king, as if this.

.. discussion might turn into something more.

There aren’t many patrons left in the inn, but we have the full attention of everyone remaining—including Callum and his companion, who are still watching from across the room.

Even the woman on the mat has sat up to watch.

I glare up at the king. “I don’t want your pity.” Anger and shame and humiliation war in my chest, and I swing my head around to look at Jory. My voice is still rough, and I snap at her before I can stop it. “I don’t want yours , either.”

She jerks back like I struck her, and her breath catches.

Fuck. If I weren’t chained to the king, I could slip into the shadows and disappear. I’m almost ready to cut my own hand off.

Captain Zale looks between the three of us, and he lets out a breath through his teeth. His eyes flick to one of the others. “Roman. Which rooms did they give us?”

Roman nods toward the staircase at the back of the tavern. “The two at the north side. They should have laid a fire already.”

“Ky,” says the captain. “Maybe you want to finish this privately.”

The king looks at him, and then back at the princess, and finally to me. “Fine.” He stands, extending a hand to her. “After you.”

Her mouth forms a line, but she doesn’t move. She looks at Charlotte. “I will not be remaining with him for long. Please ensure the other room is adequately prepared.” She heads for the back wall of the inn.

But then she hesitates and turns back. She unlaces the small purse from the sash at her waist, and she hands it to her lady. “And find out how much that woman owes,” she says, nodding toward the bonded woman on the fur. “Pay the man so she can be free of sleeping on the floor .”

Without waiting for a response, she turns toward the staircase. I stare after her. So does Lady Charlotte.

The king sighs and runs a hand over the back of his neck, but then he looks down at me.

Again, I wish for a hood and the shadows, because if I weren’t tethered to him, I’d vanish in a heartbeat.

My thoughts are jangled up and twisted, and for every part of me that wants to grab that dagger from his captain’s thigh, there’s another part that wants to return to the moment his thumb traced a path through my hair.

His eyes are sparking with anger, but I don’t think it’s directed at me. When he speaks, his voice is resigned. “You’ve hidden too much from her, Asher.”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

But as soon as I say the words, they sound hollow. Untrue.

He knows it, too.

“You are,” he says, and his tone is grave.

“But if she is to be a part of this alliance, she should know what has been done to her people. If she is to be a queen, she should know what has been done to you .” His eyes shift to his captain.

“Make sure Lady Charlotte has enough silver to accomplish her task.”

Then he turns toward the staircase, barely waiting for me to follow.

This time, I don’t fuck around. I scramble to my feet before I have no other choice.