Page 5 of Warrior Princess Assassin (Braided Fate #1)

“You’re being ridiculous. No one caught my eye.

” His voice is so deep and gentle, his eyes simultaneously tempting and taunting, a complete contrast to the deadly weapons that are nearly invisible against his body.

He breaks the remaining cookie in half and holds out a piece between two gloved fingers. “Want some?”

My heart skips. He’s been gone for so long, but every time he reappears, it feels like it’s barely been five minutes.

I crawl forward on my knees. I’m tempted to bite the cookie right from his fingers, because there’s something in Asher that always makes me want to drag him into my bed and forget everything else exists.

But he wouldn’t like it. Sometimes I’ll forget myself and hug him, and he’ll stiffen like a statue. “You’re a princess,” he’ll say. “I’m nothing. I’m no one.”

He wasn’t always like that. When we were younger, we’d sneak out of the palace all the time.

I still have vivid memories of the night I slipped away from my fifteenth birthday celebration and met Asher in the stables.

The party had gone on for hours, and no one cared very much about my involvement anymore.

We climbed the ladder to the shadowed hayloft, sharing gossip about the lords and ladies we’d seen at the party, both of us a little tipsy from the blackberry wine.

The night started out very innocent, very chaste.

But as darkness closed in, our words turned soft and serious.

We spread a blanket over the hay so we wouldn’t dirty our clothes, then lay beside each other, our fingers carefully wound together—until they weren’t.

His fingertips boldly traced my cheek, my jaw, my neck.

It wasn’t the first time we’d touched each other, but it was the first time in the dark, in private, with so much heady emotion between us.

I shivered and found the courage to explore the soft hollow of his throat, twisting the hair that drifted across his forehead, and finally dragging my thumb across his lower lip.

I’ll never forget the way his breath caught, how his hands closed on my waist to pull me closer.

I’d heard Mother’s ladies giggling over the men at court, the way they gossiped about someone’s trousers growing tight, or a man’s hardness pressing against their thigh.

I’d never understood what they meant until that night, because when Asher pressed against me, I felt the hard ridge of him through our clothing, and something inside me seemed to bloom.

He tugged at the hem of my skirts, his fingers slipping over my ankle, then my calf.

With each brush of his hands, he caused a tightening in my belly, a clenching between my legs.

His eyes were fixed on my lips, his breathing a little quick.

His mother was the queen’s lady, and I was the princess, and if we were caught, it would’ve been a scandal beyond measure.

I remember being terrified that he’d close the distance between us.

I desperately wanted him to do it anyway.

“Jory,” he whispered, my name like a promise. When his mouth found mine, I drowned in the taste of him. His tongue brushed my lips, that daring hand finding its way along my knee, his fingers grazing my thigh.

Then a night watchman strolled into the barn down below, whistling while he went about his duties. Asher and I snapped apart, our hearts pounding. The moment was broken, our roles remembered. We snuck back to the party, perfectly behaved. It was my first kiss. My only kiss.

A week later, my mother was killed, his mother was executed for treason, and Asher was dragged out of the palace in chains.

And now I’ve been promised to another man.

I take the piece of cookie with my fingers. “Thank you.”

His eyes trace my face. “You’re welcome.” He pauses, and his voice turns solemn. “I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

I inhale to answer—but my breath catches. It’s been months...and I suddenly realize it could be forever. I don’t even know if Asher could cross the border into Incendar. Or if I’d be able to visit home.

I take a bite of cookie to try to cover it up.

Asher isn’t fooled. A tiny line appears between his eyebrows.

“Ah, Jory.” He swings his body upward, twisting in the air as he releases the beam.

He lands neatly on the bed in front of me, every movement as agile as a cat.

He drops to sit cross-legged, knee to knee with me like we’re young again, staying awake to whisper long after the maids have doused the lanterns.

“Do you know what’s happening?” I say, and my breath clouds faintly with the words.

“Which part?” he says quietly. “That you’ve been sold away to Incendar? Or that your father is dying, and without this alliance, Astranza could be razed by Draegonis?”

I gasp and look up at the crisscrossed rafters climbing high above me. They go all the way to the ceiling, where he would have been invisible in the shadows, especially with every fire doused. “How long have you been here?”

He shrugs a little. “Long enough.”

“ Long enough? ” I whisper furiously. “I’ve been thinking I would never see you again!” I punch him in the shoulder.

Or I try . He catches my hand effortlessly within his gloved one. Contrary to the way my brother grabbed me, his hand is gentle, and I don’t fight him at all.

“I know,” he says, his voice full of contrition. “I was thinking that might be better.”

“It wouldn’t be better , Asher.”

“We’ve always known our lives would one day be divided. Even before... before. ”

Before our mothers died. Before our lives were inextricably altered.

But he hasn’t let go of my hand, and I don’t pull back either.

Though he’s speaking of distance, all I can focus on is the urge to lace his fingers through mine and pull him closer.

He so rarely lets me touch him anymore. I hold very still, trying to gauge what he is thinking, afraid to break the spell.

His thumb brushes over my knuckles.

My breath catches, but when I examine his face, it’s only regret I see etching his features, not desire.

“What if I never come back?” I say softly.

For a moment, he says nothing, and his thumb goes still. But then he shrugs. “I’m sure you will, with half a dozen Incendrian babies in tow.”

“Half a dozen!”

He continues as if I haven’t said a word. “They’ll all be quiet and docile and perfectly behaved, until the moment they come to visit their uncle Dane. They’ll put spiders in his bed and honey in his shoes, only he won’t be able to do anything about it, because their father would set him on fire.”

It should make me laugh, but it doesn’t—because the father of these imaginary children is a man who can cause blisters with a brush of his fingers.

“I know what everyone expects, but there will be no babies.” A shudder rolls through me.

“I’ll marry Maddox Kyronan to protect the kingdom, but I’m not letting him touch me. ”

Asher takes another bite of his cookie. “Do you think everyone has to call him that?”

“Asher.”

“I just feel like it would be remarkably tedious.”

He’s trying to lighten the mood, but my mouth stays locked in a line.

So the smile fades from his. “I’m sorry about your father.”

I doubt that’s true.

My expression must shift, giving it away, because Asher offers half a shrug. “I’m sorry for you .”

I sigh, twisting my fingers together. “You don’t need to be. He’s...he’s a stranger, Asher. I barely see him anymore.” I pause. “And now he’s forcing me to leave.”

Now his mouth forms a line.

“What if Father dies, and the king feels he’s been tricked?” I say. “Then I’m trapped in Incendar.” I take a breath. “As his prisoner.”

Asher goes still as if considering that, his expression darkening dangerously.

But maybe the mood has grown too heavy, because he blinks, then lets go of my hand and sits taller.

He taps his jaw, just below the seven lines of ink across his cheek.

“Here, punch me again. Show me how you’d really hit him. ”

“Asher.”

He grins, and it lights up his face.

But then the door latch clicks, and he all but vanishes . He’s so quick that I’m not even sure which direction he went.

A wisp of a voice comes from the shadows, just before the door opens. “Cookie, Jory.”

I look down at my hand to see the rest of the cookie I haven’t eaten. I shove it under my covers just as Charlotte comes back into my chambers with another quilt.

“You are awake,” she says softly. “None of us can sleep. I thought you might need another blanket.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised by this unexpected kindness. I remember the way Charlotte waited for my order and ignored my brother. Maybe I should give her more credit. “I—yes. Thank you.”

She gives me a small smile, then fluffs the quilt over me.

I wonder if they’re all awake because they’re cold, or if it’s really that they’re afraid of the king of Incendar.

I doubt Charlotte is afraid, though. She might be very simple, but she never seems to flinch from anything. Not even my brother.

A new thought suddenly occurs to me: maybe they’re all awake from fear of what I’ll do.

“I’m going to say yes,” I say, even as the words twist in my gut. “Please tell my ladies that no one needs to be afraid of...of repercussions.”

Her eyes meet mine, and her hands go still. After a brief hesitation, she smooths the last bit of the quilt and nods. “I’ll tell the others,” she whispers.

With a quick curtsy, she’s gone. My heart is pounding again.

I hold my breath, my eyes searching the darkness for Asher. When he drops off a beam and lands right in front of me, I nearly have a heart attack. His hood is fully up now, cloaking his face in darkness.

I want to punch him again. “Stop doing that!” I hiss.

“She hardly gave me any warning.” He pulls at my quilts until he finds the cookie. He blows some lint off the edge, then holds it up in front of my face. “Are you going to eat this?”