Page 43 of Warrior Princess Assassin (Braided Fate #1)

Chapter Twenty

The Warrior

I t’s late and it’s dark, only embers glowing in the hearth.

Asher is asleep to my right, curled on his side, his arm half extended from the chain that still keeps us tethered.

After everything that’s happened, I don’t think he’d try to run, and I don’t think he’d convince the princess to leave with him.

..but I also didn’t want to risk it. It’s the same reason my weapons aren’t strapped to my body where he can reach them, and instead they’re on the floor beside me.

The princess is sound asleep on the other pallet to my left, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

Her lady Charlotte is on her other side, sleeping primly with blankets pulled up to her chin.

Callum should be outside the door now, because I heard the low rumble of his voice when he changed shifts with Roman.

Otherwise, the inn is quiet, and it has been for hours.

I should be sound asleep, too. Bleeding skies, I’m tired enough.

But nervous energy has me longing to call a bit of flame to drift between my fingers, and that’s never a good idea when I’m lying in bed.

Just one wayward spark and the whole pallet could go up.

When I was young, I nearly burned down half an encampment.

My sister Victoria already causes enough problems in Incendar. I don’t need to start any here.

We aren’t safe in Astranza. I can feel it.

I’ve been feeling it since we rode through the swirling snow to reach the capital.

My men drew blades when that boy came crashing in with the firewood, so I know I’m not the only one.

It’s likely Sev is awake on the other side of the wall, staring into the darkness just like I am.

If I weren’t chained to Asher, I’d join him.

He knows me well enough that he’d probably have a deck of cards waiting.

I’d make a candle burn too bright, and we’d stop each other from finding sleep at the bottom of a bottle.

But I can’t. Instead, I’m lying here thinking of Jory, bold and glaring, convincing me to lay down my arms and speak to Prince Dane.

Or Asher, kneeling in the snow, wounded and defiant, ready to fight to the death even though he had no hope of winning.

Or the two of them, sitting in the firelight, revealing unspoken truths. So desperate to protect each other that they can’t see the harms they’re causing. They’re so wildly chaotic. It’s no wonder they’re in love with each other. It’s a miracle they haven’t gotten each other killed.

But the dynamic between them has shifted, just a little. Somewhere along the line, they each forged a connection with me , and I didn’t expect it. It’s a thin and fragile bond, as frail as gossamer thread, but it’s there. It’s not trust, not yet, but there’s a glimmer of it.

I glance over at the princess. Her fingers are curled against the coverlet, her hair loose and spilled across the pillow.

Callum said she was beautiful—and she is.

But I’ve known beautiful women. I’ve known brave women.

That’s not what keeps tugging at something deep inside of me.

It’s the way she convinced me to speak to her brother, despite how deep her distrust ran.

It’s the way she thanked me for kindness. Kindness .

Because I’m not kind. I’m ruthless. Vengeful. Practical. I handed over her best friend because I won’t risk this alliance I so desperately need.

But the word lit a glow in my heart that refuses to dim.

And Asher...he has every right to hate me.

He seems to have a right to hate everyone .

Even if Jory hadn’t said anything, I could see it myself.

The Draegs torture any Incendrian they can get their hands on, so I’ve seen the effects, the way touch can be warped and twisted until it only brings pain.

Each time my fingers landed on his neck, Asher went so still, braced for torment.

I wonder how long he’s gone without simple human contact, because as much as he pulls away, he seems to crave it, too.

Every time he yielded, it was unexpected—and a bit gratifying.

Like coaxing a wolf out of the shadows to take a piece of meat from your hand.

He told the princess he was broken. But he’s not.

I turn my head to look at him, only to discover that his blue eyes are open, watching me .

I give a little jump, and it makes the chain between us rattle.

His eyes search mine, but it’s too dark for me to make out much of his expression.

He’s wide awake, like he hasn’t slept either.

Those stripes on his face are obvious even in the shadows, but so are the subtle hollows of his cheeks.

When we sat at dinner, he clung to that bowl like a man who doesn’t know when his next meal is coming.

He’s got enough muscle on his frame that I know he’s not starving, but it’s clear not everyone in Astranza is eating their fill.

He hasn’t said a word, and there’s something in his gaze that makes me glad the weapons are on the floor. Though it might not matter. I’ve seen how fast he can move.

Maybe I’m wrong about that glimmer of trust.

“Go back to sleep, Asher,” I murmur.

“Why did you take me from Dane?”

His voice is a low rumble, almost softer than thought, and after everything, the question takes me by surprise. Though maybe it shouldn’t.

I shift onto my side to face him, so my voice won’t wake the princess. “My words to Prince Dane were true. I will not watch Astranza collect a bounty for a crime committed against me.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “You could have had Jory to yourself.”

“To myself ?” I say. “If I can’t earn her affection without letting her brother imprison and enslave you, then I likely don’t deserve it.”

Asher’s expression doesn’t flicker. The room is heavy with unspoken emotion, and I wish I could parse it out. But if being a soldier has taught me anything, the cloaking solitude of night is the time we all wrestle with demons that others can’t see.

“You’ve already earned her affection,” he finally says.

“Perhaps.”

“You have. I know her. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.” He pauses. “ Ky. ”

The way he says that is interesting. Almost aggressive. I haven’t invited him to call me by my given name, much less a nickname, but he throws it down like a challenge.

I don’t pick it up. I throw down my own. “Are you jealous?”

“No.” But he is. A little.

As the word hangs between us, his gaze sharpens. “She’s innocent. You should know...she’s never...she hasn’t—”

“I know.” It’s obvious. She was so startled when I drew her aboard my horse. This is inappropriate. And I could see it when Asher finally unleashed his truths: her wide eyes, the sudden flush on her cheeks when he mentioned being on his knees or bent over a rail.

Asher narrows his eyes, studying me. “She’s afraid you’ll hurt her. That you’ll force her.”

He might be angry, but he’s still so protective. I wonder when she told him this, but it must have been before she met me. I wonder if he’s the one who’s afraid I’ll hurt her.

I keep my voice low. “I’m no blushing virgin, Asher. But I’ve never forced anyone to my bed. I have no intention of starting now.”

I have no idea what part of that affects him, but his pupils seem to grow darker, and his eyes hold mine for the longest moment before skipping away. His voice quiets further. “Are you going to let me go?”

There’s a wariness to this question. An uncertainty.

At first I think the reason is obvious: he doesn’t want to be held captive.

He doesn’t want me to fuck with him. It’s possibly even deeper than that: he doesn’t want to be dragged back to Incendar, where he’ll be put to death or forced to watch the princess marry me .

But as I inhale to tell him that of course I intend to let him go, I realize that this might not be the right answer at all.

Because there’s no freedom for Asher in Astranza. He’s a marked man, and he certainly can’t go back to the Hunter’s Guild. If I release him, I might as well give him back to Prince Dane myself.

I’ve taken too long to answer, and his gaze sharpens, his voice turning a little belligerent. “Or are you just going to set me on—”

“Hush.” I reach out and rest my hand against his neck, and Asher goes abruptly silent.

Emotions flash across his face. First the flare of panic that someone has touched him, quickly followed by an odd mix of rebellion as every muscle in his upper body goes taut.

But I leave my hand there and he exhales, his frame softening. The wolf, settling under my hand.

This is different from the way I touched him before. Because of the way we’re lying, my hand has fallen against the side of his neck, and it puts my thumb right over his windpipe, just in the hollow of his jaw. It’s intimate and vulnerable in a way I didn’t quite intend.

I can’t quite make myself let go, however.

There’s something addictive to this. I move my thumb along his chin, feeling the start of beard growth there, softer than mine would be, which is rather intriguing.

It’s rare that I touch another man like this, especially in the dark, in the middle of the night.

Especially in bed . In truth, I’ve been with a man once before, but it was years ago, and nothing like this.

Then I was newly king, and barely a man myself.

It was aggressive and reckless and occasionally violent—and very short-lived, for all the same reasons.

I’m older now, and this is nothing like that. I’m not entirely sure what this is. But I let my finger drift along Asher’s skin, feeling his pulse beat under my palm.

“You’re mine for now,” I say.

He swallows, and his breath trembles. Good? Bad? I can’t quite tell. Maybe he’s not sure, either. It warns me to tread carefully.

I trace another path along his throat. “Sleep, Asher. We’ll leave at first light.”

He nods.

I move to pull away, but he catches my wrist. His eyes catch the barest gleam of light, and they hold mine, unflinching.

But then he tugs my arm a bit closer, and he tucks it against the mattress in front of him, both hands loosely wrapping around my forearm.

I don’t understand his intent, especially when that’s all he does, and his eyes simply fall closed.

But then I think about the way he snapped at the princess when she asked why he wouldn’t let her help him. I think about the way sanctuary made him yield, when money and power held no sway.

I think about the fact that Jory demanded that I unchain him, but since the moment he followed me into the inn, Asher hasn’t asked. Not even once.

His breath is already evening out, and I study him in the darkness.

I can’t quite believe how much has changed in the space of a day.

From the way the princess hid her identity to meet me, to my kidnapping and subsequent escape, to the prospect of nefarious dealings within Astranza that led to our immediate departure.

But perhaps the most surprising is the vicious assassin who started the day by taking down one of my best soldiers and forcing me out of the palace—and is now falling asleep beside me, clutching my forearm the way a frightened child would hold on to a doll.