Page 66 of Warrior Princess Assassin (Braided Fate #1)

Chapter Thirty

The Warrior

T he palace is so quiet, even in the center of Lastalorre. It’s well known that I spend little time here, and I’ve never seen the sense in keeping a full staff of servants and guards for an empty castle. Especially now, when I wasn’t supposed to return for weeks .

But it’s a double-edged sword, because the relentless silence is part of the reason I hate being here. At nights, I’ll lie in bed, stare at my ceiling, and think of what’s happening to my soldiers on the border. During the day, I’ll endure endless meetings with advisers. It’s interminable.

Even my afternoon was full of nothing but melancholy and dread.

My chambers are lavish and well-appointed, so soaking away days of travel grit should have been calming.

Soothing. But lying in the warm water was the exact opposite.

Every time I ducked my head under, I came up expecting to find attackers waiting.

I can never sleep here. At the same time, I don’t want to be awake.

If Sev were here, I’d be in his quarters.

He’d be pouring me whiskey, and I’d be dealing cards.

We’d wait out the day until sleep overtook us both, and then we’d start over again tomorrow.

We wouldn’t talk about angry citizens or wildfires or potentially fractured alliances, but we’d know , and that would be enough.

But Sev is already gone. I need reports from my other captains, and if Draeg soldiers are sneaking across the border from Astranza, I need to be prepared.

Sev took Nikko and rode out almost immediately.

I haven’t seen Callum and Garrett, but I have no doubt they headed into the city—and Roman would have followed, if for no other reason than to make sure they didn’t get into trouble.

I wish I could join them.

Instead, I’m here, and there’s one part of the palace that I don’t hate.

Victoria’s room is down a long hallway on the second floor.

I used to have extra guards stationed at the opening to the hallway, but I quickly learned that it led people to believe something especially valuable was down this way, so I had them reassigned.

Now it’s simply my sister’s suite, and it’s known among the court that Princess Victoria prefers to keep to herself, valuing her solitude, using her time to read and reflect on the state of Incendar.

It’s known among my closest circle that Victoria rarely leaves her quarters at all.

When I stride down the hallway, I look for any new signs of damage. The walls are bare stone and steel, so there’s nothing that can burn, not for a good fifty feet. But when her magic flares, sometimes it will spark into the palace. Today, nothing seems new.

It’s not a relief. If there’s no mark in this hallway, it means her magic flared somewhere else —like the crops we passed when we rode up the hill.

When I reach the end, the door is open, and there’s an elderly woman in a rocking chair just inside.

She looks up in surprise when I step into the threshold.

White hair is tightly bound back from her face.

One bright blue eye blinks at me in the sunlight.

The other is lost in a mass of burn scarring.

“Ky,” she says fondly. She was my nanny when I was a boy. That was well before Victoria gave her the scars on her face.

I dread the day she can no longer look after my sister. I sometimes worry I’ve kept her to this role too long.

“Norla,” I say. “How is she?”

Her face breaks into a warm smile. “She’s doing very well—this week. She will be happy to see you.”

This week . I wonder if that means she destroyed the crops last week.

“I’ll visit with her for a while if you’d like to fetch some dinner.”

That smile widens. “I will, thank you.” She swats me on the arm. “Your Majesty.”

I lean down and kiss her on the forehead. “You have my gratitude, as always.”

She squeezes my arm. “I know.”

Then she’s gone, and I step farther into the room.

Victoria is near the back corner, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor, wearing a simple linen dress.

She has a colorful array of a hundred metal and glass tiles on the floor in front of her, and she’s arranging them in patterned lines—one of her favorite games.

Her hair is lighter than mine, a golden blond, and it’s so long that it reaches her waist. When she was young and difficult, Norla used to cut it short, but when Victoria grew older, she grew to love having her hair combed.

Now she’ll sit for an hour every morning, just letting someone run a brush through her tresses.

She doesn’t look up as I approach, but I know she’s already aware I’m here.

Our father used to get frustrated that she wouldn’t greet him with excitement when he returned, but I figured out early on that Victoria seems to have an odd impression of time.

It doesn’t matter how long we’ve been gone.

As soon as we’re here , it’s as if we’ve been here all along.

“The red and black is missing,” she says.

“No, it’s not,” I say. I drop to sit cross-legged in front of her, the tiles arrayed between us. I’m very careful not to touch any of them. “You’ll find it.”

She slides the tiles around. They’re very pretty, a mixture of thick glass and steel, forged so hot that the glass doesn’t crack, even when she drops them against the stone floor.

“Are you hungry?” I say. “It’s close to dinnertime.”

“No.”

“Norla said you’ve had a good week.”

“We went for a walk.”

“You did?” My heart thumps as I think about the wildfires that no one can stop.

“Yes.” She picks up two tiles, one blue and yellow, one green and orange. Then she smiles at me. She’s really very beautiful, and when she smiles like that, I sometimes see the young woman she might have been, if she hadn’t been birthed into tragedy.

I also think about the men who’ve dared to try convincing me that they have the skills to “help” the princess with her condition.

“We saw two butterflies,” she tells me, bouncing the tiles. “These colors.”

“ Two ,” I say. “That sounds very lucky.”

“Norla said one was a moth. But she was wrong.”

“Silly Norla.”

“It’s not silly. It’s ignorant.”

I snort, glad I sent the nanny away. “ Vic .”

She sets down the tiles. “The red and black is missing,” she says again.

“It’s not. You’ll find it. You always do.”

She surveys the tiles, moving them carefully along the stones. “Who are they?”

I frown, because for a moment, I don’t understand the question—and then I remember that I have guests in the palace, and almost no staff to stop them from roaming.

I snap my head around. Jory and Asher are in the doorway. Their eyes are a little wide, a little confused, a little concerned. I have no idea how much they’ve seen or how much they’ve figured out, but it’s clearly been enough .

Rage and panic go to war in my chest. I told them to stay put. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to react.

I know it would be very bad for my sister to have a reaction to their presence. I never know how strangers will affect Victoria.

Jory’s eyes go a bit soft. “Ky. I’m sorry—”

I lift a hand and shake my head sharply.

Her eyes widen, but then she nods.

“Ky?” says Victoria.

I turn back to face her. Her eyes, the same honey brown as mine, look right into my face, never quite making eye contact.

I keep my voice low. I have to clear my throat. “Yeah.”

“Who are they?”

“They are...friends. Jory. And Asher.” I hesitate, wondering how much to share. “They will be staying with me in the palace for a short while.”

She shuffles her tiles again. “I want them to sit down.”

Well, I don’t .

Introducing new variables to Victoria’s environment is always risky. But refusing her is risky, too. Especially since she’s already seen them.

“Just until Norla comes back,” I say. “Then they have to leave.” I look back over my shoulder. “Come. Sit. Say nothing. Touch nothing.” I keep my voice soft, but I leave no room for disobedience in my tone.

“Why do you tell them this?” says Victoria.

“Because I don’t want them to break your tiles.”

Asher and Jory sit.

“The red and black is still missing,” Victoria says.

Jory points. “It’s there.”

I smack a hand over my face, then drag it down.

Victoria looks up, then follows Jory’s finger. And indeed, there is the red and black piece, just under her left foot.

“I wanted to find it,” she says.

“Oh!” says Jory. “I’m—”

I shake my head at her, then hold my breath.

But Victoria only takes the line of tiles she’s already arranged and scrambles them all up in a pile again.

“I’ll start over,” she says.

“That will be more fun,” I say.

Jory’s mouth is clamped shut now, but she looks between the two of us, then glances at Asher.

I keep my eyes on my sister. After everything that happened this afternoon, I’m not sure how to handle their appearance here of all places.

“Ky,” calls Norla from the doorway. “I’m back. Oh! You have guests.”

She sounds surprised—which I can appreciate.

“They have to leave now, Norla,” says Victoria. “Because you’re back.”

“I’ll return in the morning,” I say. I reach out and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “Maybe we can go for a walk and you can show me where you saw the butterflies.” I pause. “Or we could read a story together. One of your favorites.”

Victoria says nothing to that. She places the first tile in her line, a blue and orange one. She’s focused on her game now, and she has no further time for conversation.

It tugs at something inside of me, but I know better than to acknowledge it.

I look at Asher and Jory. “Out.”

The princess looks back at me, and I watch pity flash through her eyes.

That is the last thing I need. So I square my shoulders and turn for the door.

I DON’T SAY anything until we’re well away.

It’s unlikely that Victoria would hear us—or try to follow—but I won’t risk it.

I storm down the staircase toward the main atrium, but there are guards near the main doors.

I don’t want our words to be overheard, so I turn down the first hallway I find, and there, I finally round on them.

“I told you to stay put,” I say, and it takes effort to keep my voice down. “Do I need to put you in a cell? Chain you to the wall?”

Jory’s eyes light with fire, and she inhales like she’d set me ablaze if she could. “So I’m to be your prisoner ? I thought I was your guest. ”

“ Guests do not intrude on—”

“No,” says Asher. “We’re not starting this way.”

Rage sparks in my chest. He’s so defiant. So cavalier. They both are.

I round on him. “ You have no right — ”

“I know, I know. You’re so powerful.” He puts a hand against my shoulder. Then, quicker than thought, he shoves me right into the wall.

Jory gasps, but I’m bigger than he is, and I know I can throw him off.

But Asher ducks right inside my movement and jams his forearm into my throat.

As always, he’s remarkably fast, and the movement pins my neck to the wall, his arm pressing up against my jaw, his weight blocking me.

I readjust to strike, fighting for leverage, because I have the strength to break his hold.

But instead of attacking, his arm slips away and his hand slides up my neck.

His thumb presses beside my windpipe, the same way I held him on the first night.

I’m suddenly so aware of each rise and fall of my chest pressing into his, each beat of my heart.

His grip is looser now, and I could throw him off if I wanted to. But it’s so startling and unexpected that I go still. My thoughts can’t realign, can’t parse out this way of fighting. I don’t even know if we are fighting.

I don’t think he does, either. Because he may have caught me against the wall, but this has shifted from aggression into something more like vulnerability. The wolf, unsure if it should bite your fingers off or lick your hand.

I keep my eyes on his, waiting to see what he chooses.

That familiar flicker of challenge flares between us, but it’s different now.

More charged. Asher shifts his weight, and the press of his body moves against mine.

Such a tiny, simple motion shouldn’t affect me, but it does.

I can’t tell if he’s letting me go or pressing closer.

Either way, I’m instantly hard, and my breath goes a bit ragged.

Do you want to fight? I think. Or do you want to fuck?

Considering everything I know about him, I think it’s both.

His blue eyes haven’t left mine, and when he speaks, his voice is very quiet. “Ready to try again?”

“Fine.”

“Good boy.” He smacks me on the cheek, too rough to be friendly, then draws back, letting me go.

I’m still angry, but the edge is gone. I can’t focus, and my breathing feels too fast. I run a hand down my face, willing my body to cool. “Fuck you, Asher.”

The princess is looking between the two of us, both hands pressed to her mouth. Her eyebrows are up, her eyes wide. Her cheeks are bright pink.

“How did you do that?” she whispers at Asher.

“Please. Men are easy.”

My pride sparks. “I am not—”

“Do you want me to do it again?”

That makes me flush, and I’m not ready for it. “No,” I grind out.

“Exactly.” He glances at the princess. “Jory has questions for you.”

I fold my arms. “ Questions .”

“That’s why we came looking,” Jory says. “But you must have somewhere better for a conversation than a hallway.”

My brain can’t keep up. I can’t believe we’ve shifted from arguing to fighting to seduction to interrogation, all in the span of one minute.

Actually, considering everything I know about the two of them, I should have expected nothing less.

I run a hand back through my hair. After what just happened, it would be torture to lock ourselves in a cold strategy room. I definitely don’t want to go back to my bedchambers.

But then I remember our conversation from the ride here, right before my people attacked us and everything unraveled.

“Come,” I say. “I have just the place.”