Page 40 of Warrior Princess Assassin (Braided Fate #1)

Chapter Nineteen

The Princess

M y heart is pounding, refusing to settle.

The men have followed me to the stairs, and their emotion radiates in the air around us.

The king is angry, but Asher is almost worse.

He’s never snapped at me before, and definitely not like that.

His anger rattled something inside my heart.

I’m angry too, but my stomach is churning. I don’t want to be alone with them.

Not because I’m afraid. Because I’m worried their anger is justified .

Asher dropped to sit on the floor like he was used to it. He didn’t even look up when food was brought to the table, as if he didn’t expect to be fed.

The weight of everyone’s focus presses down on me as I take each step, and I wonder what they’re all thinking—either about me or about Astranza.

The king’s words about branding citizens like livestock are burning in my thoughts, and I wonder how many people heard that.

For hours, I’ve been angry about the righteous fury in his voice when he mentioned Incendrian justice to my brother.

I’ve been furious about the way he ordered me to leave the palace, barely giving me enough time to gather my belongings.

But I saw the severity of Asher’s wound, the deep purples and blacks from where a brand scorched a mark into his flesh. That had nothing to do with Incendar, and everything to do with my own kingdom.

It’s hardly the first time it’s been done , Ky said.

My heart gives an anguished squeeze. The older scar on Asher’s shoulder was barely visible, but I saw the edges of the raised welt that formed an X, just above the new one. Did that happen when he was first exiled? I never knew. He never said a word.

As we climb the steps, Captain Zale gives some sort of signal, and Nikko and Roman step away from the table.

Before they get far, Ky pauses on the stairs. “I don’t need guards, Sev.”

The other man snorts. “Humor me,” he calls back. “I know what happened the last time you were alone with these two.”

Ky sets his jaw, but he continues up the steps behind me. His two soldiers follow closely behind.

I still don’t know if I can trust him. He deceived us once. But that churning in my stomach won’t stop, and I can’t bear to look back at them. Their steps are heavy behind me, and that’s bad enough. Asher takes the stairs one by one, the chain between his ankles rattling on each board as he passes.

I open the first door that I come to, ready to storm inside—until I discover that this is a room meant for multiple people, with two small pallets along the wall and a straw mattress spread across each one. I stop short in the doorway.

The king comes up behind me, and I all but feel his presence at my back. “The other room is likely the same, Princess. But we can move to the other, if you’d rather.”

“It’s fine.” I square my shoulders and force my voice to be mild, completely unperturbed. But against my will, a blush crawls up my throat. I’ve never traveled without a royal retinue, and I’ve never slept in an inn. Until this moment, I hadn’t thought about all of us sharing rooms, much less beds.

I remember Asher gently scoffing at my idea of escape, saying I had no idea what life was like outside the palace. At the time, his manner was lighthearted, but now that I’ve seen him crouched on a stone floor, I wonder what else I’ve missed.

I think of that woman curled up on the fur.

Asher never mentioned this either. I told Charlotte to pay for her release, but that’s more about my guilt than anything else.

Is that kind of thing happening to people all across Astranza?

If we’d arrived at the Three Fishes, would he have had to do that? Sit at my feet like a prisoner?

I swallow tightly.

Ky follows me in, with Asher in tow. The two soldiers are right behind them, but they stop in the doorway.

“When we retire,” Ky says to me, “you and your lady can have one of the rooms to yourselves, Princess. I don’t expect you to share with my soldiers.” He pauses. “Or with me.”

Aside from the nights Asher snuck into my bedchambers, I’ve never shared my sleeping quarters with anyone else at all.

But much like the moment I realized his men would go hungry if I chose to take a stand in the carriage, it feels equally selfish to demand one room for myself when there are nine of us traveling together.

“We can share the space,” I say, though I’m not sure if I mean it. “Your men have been quite respectful. I was simply...surprised.”

His eyes narrow, but he only glances at his soldiers. Ky taps two fingers under his right eye, then draws one finger down his cheek. Roman nods, then taps two fingers against his shoulder, his eyebrows up, questioning.

The king nods in return, and Roman turns to shift through the door.

Nikko doesn’t. He’s glaring at Asher.

Or maybe he’s responding to the fact that Asher is glaring at him . “Want a rematch?” Asher says darkly.

I watch the soldier draw himself up, and violent potential seems to swell through the room. But Roman turns back, grabs hold of Nikko’s armor, and drags him out.

Once the door is closed behind them, Ky looks at Asher, aggrieved. “Stop provoking my men.”

“I didn’t provoke him.”

Ky takes a breath and runs a hand down his face like he’s exasperated with both of us.

Good. I’d rather feel annoyed than angry and intimidated. “Secret signals?” I say to him.

“Yes.”

“Something else from when you pretend to be a soldier?”

His eyes flash when he glances at me. “Yes, Princess. More of my imaginary soldiering.”

I tap two fingers under my eye, then drag a finger down my cheek. “What does that mean?”

“Keep watch,” he says, tapping under his eye the same way. He regards me levelly, as if he’s not sure he wants to give away all their secrets. But maybe this isn’t too private, because he holds up one finger. “One”—he drags it down his cheek—“to stand guard.”

Fascinating. I’m intrigued in spite of myself. Just when I’m about to ask about the shoulder tapping, Asher says, “I know a good hand signal.”

Ky gives him a look, then unclips the clasp of his cloak and tosses it at the end of one of the pallets. “Sit, Asher.”

His voice isn’t forceful, but the command in his tone is clear.

Asher’s blue eyes are heavy and inscrutable, fixed on the king.

I’m still a bit shocked that he allowed Ky to touch him, especially since he turns to stone every time I reach for him.

Especially in a way that seemed so...

vulnerable. I’ve watched them jab at each other with words and actions all day, but when Ky’s hand fell on his neck, Asher seemed to give himself over completely, even if it was only for a moment.

He yields now, too. The chain between his ankles rattles on the wood as he sinks onto the pallet, and the one tethering him to the king is short enough that it keeps his hand partially raised.

“Unchain him,” I say. “You can’t accuse me of enslaving my citizens while you’ve got Asher chained to your wrist.”

Ky reaches for the buckles of his bracers. “Downstairs, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Sev’s dagger. The instant I release him, he’ll go for a weapon—or he’ll be out the window.”

“No, no,” Asher says, his voice flat. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

Ky snorts and tosses the first knife-lined bracer toward the hearth—well out of the assassin’s reach.

This verbal parry is different from earlier. Less barbed. I wonder if it’s the food, or if it’s what just happened, the way Asher submitted to his touch. I told the king he wouldn’t earn my trust this way, but it wasn’t quite true. He began earning it back the instant he handed over his meal.

Asher. Eat.

Just the memory of his soft tone makes me shiver. He’s so harsh and fearsome that it makes him downright captivating when his voice goes quiet.

But he betrayed us once. I’m terrified he’s going to do it again.

Though...maybe he feels the same way about me. In the hut, he said that all I’ve offered are lies. The words keep pricking at my heart.

Because I don’t want to deceive him. I’ve been trying to protect him. Just like I want to protect Asher.

But maybe it doesn’t feel that way from his side. Maybe all he sees is deception.

Considering what I know about my father and his waning magic, maybe that’s all there is to see.

I don’t know how to undo any of this. Especially not when the king keeps lighting these little flames of attraction.

They started the moment we met, when he defended me in front of Dane, and they continued all the way into the hut, when he made that vow to Asher.

In that moment, I thought this alliance could truly work, that we could find accord.

When he tricked us, I thought he doused any chance of us ever coming to terms.

But another flicker of interest sparked to life when he called me formidable—and he had his men lower their weapons.

It blazed hotter when he handed over his food, and it flared through me when his voice went soft and he called Asher to kneel at his feet.

I’m reminded of the way Ky pulled me into his lap when we sat astride the horse, his breath warm against my hair, his arms protective around me.

The king’s bracers are piled by the fire with his sword, and he quickly works the buckles at his rib cage to pull his breastplate free, leaving him in a knit tunic that clings to the broad muscles of his chest. It’s the first time I’ve seen him without his armor, and I can’t help but stare.

He’s such a contrast to Asher, who’s as lean and agile as an acrobat.

The king pulls a dagger from a sheath in his greaves, but he doesn’t toss this one with the rest of his weapons. He straightens, keeping it in his hand.

That ready tension snaps back into Asher’s body, and the chain goes taut. The balls of his feet press against the floorboards.