Page 6 of Warrior Princess Assassin (Braided Fate #1)

“I cannot believe you’re worried about food at a time like this.”

“So...that’s a no?” His eyes are gleaming at me from under the hood. I would give anything to see him in the sunshine again.

This time I lean forward and take a bite, right from his hand.

Something in his gaze tightens, a spark of heat flickering in his eyes. The sugar dissolves on my tongue, and my gaze flicks to his mouth. I have to lick the crumbs off my lips.

He inhales, and a note of desire in his breath makes my belly clench. I think of the way he was just pawing at the blankets, how I’m wearing nothing more than a thin sleeping shift under these quilts. I’m suddenly warm, the cold hearth forgotten.

But he doesn’t move. His throat jerks as he swallows.

We’ve found this point before. If I push, he’ll pull away. I know from experience.

“I wish you were stealing me away,” I whisper.

He scoffs. “Please. If I kidnapped the princess, I’d never keep my head.”

“I was going to beg you to help me escape.”

“ Escape .” He frowns. “Where would you go, Jory? You don’t even know what life is like outside the palace.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’d be with you.”

He goes very still.

“It could be like when we were younger,” I say. “I’d find a maid’s uniform and slip out of the palace to meet you by the stables.”

His eyes are intent on mine. “Would you?”

He says this so earnestly it’s like the prelude to an offer. As if I could say yes and he’d tell me to lace up my boots right now.

The very thought makes my heart race again, because I desperately want to. I could be dressed and ready in minutes. He’s right—I have no idea what my life would be like outside the palace. But I’d be away from the political machinations of my brother . I wouldn’t be forced into marriage.

And I’d be with Asher. Just like when I was young; that alone is tempting.

But I’m not fifteen anymore. If what Dane said is true, the entire country is at risk. If I disappear, Father’s magic will eventually be gone, and everyone within our borders could be slaughtered by soldiers from Draegonis.

And it would all be my fault.

I stare into Asher’s eyes, and it takes everything I have to shake my head. “I can’t.”

“I know.” He draws a rough breath and looks down. “I shouldn’t have come. It would have been easier. For both of us.”

He looks toward the window, and my heart breaks. Desperate, I roll up on my knees and grab his hands.

He goes tense immediately, his mouth a line. “Truly, Jory. I should leave.”

“Asher. Please.”

He looks down at my fingers wrapped around his gloved ones. Since the day he was taken away, this might be the longest he’s ever let me touch him.

My heart beats so hard. I can’t bear the thought of this being our final moment together. “If I’m never going to see you again, I wish...I wish you’d stay. Please. Please. ”

His shoulders are fixed and rigid, his eyes locked on our hands. He’s going to refuse. I can feel it. Asher never stays long, and he hasn’t stopped talking about how it would’ve been better if he hadn’t come at all.

But then he sighs, and the sound of his breath is like a balm. “I’ll stay. Lie down.”

I’m so startled that I bounce on the bed like a little girl who’s just been promised a bowl of sugared berries. “What? Really?”

He tsks under his breath. “Be a good princess, or you won’t get what you want.”

I pout at him, then slither down beneath the covers, tucking the quilts up to my chin.

“Roll over,” he says. “Face the window.”

The gentle command in his tone makes me shiver in an entirely new way. I don’t realize I’m still staring at him until he raises an eyebrow and adds, “ Now , Jor.”

A curl of heat forms in my belly as I obey, turning to face the window.

My skin feels charged, making me very aware of every thread in my sleeping shift.

When Asher lies down behind me, it’s so unexpected that my amusement simply vanishes.

His arm comes around my waist, over the blankets—because of course he wouldn’t risk trapping himself under the covers.

But he tucks me against him, and his breath is sudden and warm against the back of my neck.

My body goes very still, frozen in place, as if my heart refuses to believe this moment is real.

But Asher must notice my tension, because he draws back a bit. “Is this all right?”

I nod fiercely, and he laughs, low and soft against my skin. I relax into him, feeling the hard muscle of his body, the edges of his weapons, even through my layers of blankets.

We might have kissed when we were teenagers, but he’s never held me before. Not like this . Not as a man holds a woman.

I reach for the hand that’s fallen against my waist, and I tug gently at his glove. This time he does pull away, his fingers curling, resisting.

I let go at once. “I’m sorry,” I murmur.

He says nothing, but his breathing slows against my hair. After a moment, he begins to draw back fully, shifting away from my body.

I feel the absence of him instantly. “No! Asher, please—forgive me—”

“Shh.” That gloved hand goes over my mouth, but gently.

I turn in the bed so I can look up at him. He’s propped on one arm, his hand still over my mouth. Those blue eyes stare down into mine.

“Why won’t you ever let me touch you?” I whisper against his fingers.

For an instant, his eyes shutter, going dark, revealing nothing.

But then his still-gloved thumb brushes over my lips.

He’s staring at my mouth like a starving man desperate for a meal.

Half his body is against mine, and I suddenly realize it’s not just weapons I’m feeling.

Heat blooms in my abdomen, and I shift my weight, sliding my legs against each other. He inhales deeply.

“Asher,” I whisper, drawing out his name like a plea.

He’s gone still, so I take hold of his wrist, tugging at the glove again.

This time, he lets me. Suddenly, his hand is bare: long, tapered fingers, short nails, velvet soft skin.

I press his palm to my cheek, and when his thumb brushes over my lip, I shudder.

My breathing has quickened, and I want to drag his hand lower.

I want his touch everywhere. I’m desperate for the taste of him.

I have the satisfaction of hearing his breath tremble, just a bit. His lips part, and so do mine, ready and willing.

But then he says, “No.”

I hold my breath, because I couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly. My body is frozen, staring up at him. “You don’t want me?”

He closes his eyes and inhales. He’s so close that I can hear the desire in his breath. “It’s not a matter of want .”

“Then why?”

“Because I’m not the boy you remember.” His eyes open, dark and intent and fixed on mine. “And you’re about to marry another man.”

Tears spring to my eyes, hot and sudden.

Asher strokes a thumb across my cheek. “Hush, lovely. No tears. We knew this day would come.” He nods at the pillow. “Roll over again. Let me hold you.”

Lovely. He’s never called me that before.

Warmth swells in my chest again, but it’s a request I can’t refuse, because I’m worried he really will leave.

When I roll over, those tears slip down my cheek to land on my pillow.

But I’m rewarded by his arm coming around my waist again.

This time I clutch my hand over his, and it’s my bare skin against his own.

His arm is tense, but he settles behind me, his warm breath easing along my neck again.

It’s so sweet and so comforting—and a reminder of everything I’ll never have.

My heart wants to mourn and rejoice at the same time.

I’ve always wanted to be with him —but Asher is right.

Our paths have always been destined to divide.

Maybe I’ve simply been fooling myself all this time.

“Dane says he negotiated for how many times the king is allowed to bed me,” I say.

Asher snorts. “I overheard that part, too.”

I consider how his life outside the palace always makes him seem so much more worldly, and I wonder again whether other women have caught his eye. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Do you know if it’ll hurt?” I say, and my voice is very low, very quiet.

He goes absolutely silent, as if he’s startled by the question.

I twist to look at him. “I’m sorry to be so bold.”

For a moment, I think he’ll tease again, but his eyes stay serious. “You’re not being too bold,” he says softly.

I swallow. “Do you know?”

“It shouldn’t hurt.” He pauses. “Not if it’s done right.”

That makes me go warm again. But I’m imagining him now, not the man who’s going to drag me away to Incendar.

Asher is so still behind me. “ Never , Jor?”

I turn away and shake my head against the bedclothes. My cheeks are growing hot. Of course never . I’m never alone, never unguarded, never unchaperoned.

Except for now.

I twist to peer back at him. “Have you been with many women?” He hesitates, so I flush immediately, turning away. “Don’t answer that.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and then his voice is low against my hair. “I don’t want to be indelicate.”

I flush deeper. I’m such a fool. That probably means he’s been with dozens of women.

Well, of course he has. I have eyes.

But he won’t let me touch him.

Is that just because I’ve always been destined to wed someone else? I don’t know. I don’t know if I want the answer.

Especially since he’s touching me now. He breathes against me, and I relax into his warmth.

After an eternity, a new thought occurs to me.

“What if he hurts me?” I whisper. This time there’s no keeping the fear out of my voice.

At my back, Asher goes still, and I feel the tension in every muscle of his body as he reacts to the question. “You’ll meet him tomorrow. Be brave, be strong, and be smart.” He pauses, and a dark note enters his voice. “And if you need me, send word.”

“How?” I whisper, and my voice shakes. “I’ll be alone.”

“You’ll find a way.” He strokes that bare finger over my lips, and that simple touch causes my flush to spread everywhere. “Even in Incendar,” he says. “I’d find my way to you. King or not, magic or not, I’ll do whatever needs doing.”

My eyes meet his and hold them. He’s so protective. The swirling fears in my gut stop churning quite as forcefully. The tension in my body eases away again. Asher is here.

For now.

My lips part as I gaze up at him, and his gaze flicks to my mouth again.

I want him to kiss me so badly—so when he closes the distance between us, it feels like a dream.

But his mouth is warm and real against my own, and my heart hums. I taste his breath, sweet like the cookie, then feel the slight brush of his tongue against my lip.

As soon as I feel it, I want more: my body seems to crave him.

His hand twists in my hair, and I reach for his face, pulling him closer, desperate, wanting.

Molten honey seems to flow through my veins, and I press myself fully against him, my legs shifting against his.

His strength is apparent in every touch, and I long for him to press me into the bed, to feel the weight of his body on mine.

But he draws back, his mouth releasing mine.

The kiss is over. Gentle. Chaste.

And nowhere near enough.

My breathing has quickened, and I stare up at him. He says nothing, but then I realize that his kiss wasn’t a beginning—it was an ending. A goodbye .

Tears suddenly prick at my eyes, and we settle into a silence that seems to stretch into an eternity. His body is so warm against my own, and I can almost believe that time has stopped, that morning will never come, that we can stay like this forever.

“Sleep,” he says softly, his voice so lovely and deep. “Just sleep, Jory.”

I nod, then turn to stare out at the moon, but this time it’s not mocking me. Not with Asher here, safe and warm, where I can lose myself to the weight of his arms. The chill has slipped away for the first time all night.

I don’t want to sleep, because if this is all we’ll have together, I want to savor every last moment of it.

I’ll remember that kiss until the moment I take my last breath.

Even now, I’m replaying it, wishing he would do it again, wishing that could be our eternity.

But like everything else in my life, my body doesn’t care what I want.

I seem to blink, and when my eyes open, my room is lit with the first threads of sunlight, my breath fogging in the frigid air.

Asher is gone.

My throat threatens to close up with emotion. But when I shift my blankets back, there’s a folded up maid’s uniform, a tiny slip of paper tucked under the apron.

Just in case. —A

A sob breaks free of my throat. As much as I desperately want to escape all of this, I can’t. I can’t. I won’t condemn my country for my own selfish desires.

But I stroke a hand across the fabric, and I remember all the mischief we used to get up to when we were younger.

We’d sneak through the palace in disguises just like this one, practically invisible because no one ever looks at a servant.

It’s no different from the way Dane wouldn’t look at Charlotte and the seamstress.

He never looks at anyone he perceives as beneath his station.

As soon as I have the thought, I go still.

Dane, who’s going to be meeting with a warrior king this very morning—a meeting I wasn’t invited to.

You’ll meet him tomorrow. Be brave, be strong, and be smart.

My chest is still tight, but I take a deep breath. There will be plenty of time for tears later. I swing my legs out of bed and shake out the uniform Asher left.

The kingdom is at stake. No matter how badly I want to, I can’t run away.

But I can choose how to face my destiny.