Page 67 of Warrior Princess Assassin (Braided Fate #1)

Chapter Thirty-One

The Princess

T he king leads us toward the back of the palace. I’m so struck by how empty it is. Even when Dane and my father aren’t in residence, the palace in Astranza is always bustling with people. Guards and servants and courtiers and noblemen everywhere. It’s almost impossible to be alone.

Here, Ky’s palace seems...desolate.

He seemed so enraged to find us at the doorway to his sister’s room, but truly, the bigger shock is that he thought we wouldn’t find him.

The exterior of the palace appears suitably appointed, but inside, there are so few guards, so few servants.

Asher and I thought for sure that we would be stopped or detained as we wandered through the halls, but the palace felt eerily quiet.

If I’d come here alone, I would have thought it was haunted.

The king claimed that he wasn’t expected for a matter of weeks, which.

..fair, but still. Certainly he must carry out kingly duties from here?

Or does he do everything from the battlefield?

I keep thinking of everything Asher said. He’s broken, too. Just in a different way.

When he told me about that, the explanation tore at my heart.

I never considered. From the second Ky walked into Astranza, he carried himself as a fierce warrior—and then, over the next few days, he revealed the kindness beneath.

I heard it today, in the low voice he used with his sister, or earlier, the way he took that little girl’s hand.

But he clearly doesn’t see that kindness in himself.

Or...maybe he does. Maybe that kindness terrifies him.

Maybe it doesn’t feel like kindness at all, and instead it feels like weakness.

When he confronted us in the hallway, I thought we were going to wage war right there.

He was so angry, and it reminded me of the way he lost his temper when we confronted his people.

I watched his hands flex, and even though I didn’t think he’d hit me, I did expect him to sketch a sigil and call fire.

But then Asher pushed him right up against the wall, and Ky seemed to...melt. I was surprised to find it lit a fire in my own belly, and it still hasn’t fully extinguished.

I glance at Asher. “Truly,” I murmur at him. “How did you do that?”

He shrugs. “It’s a skill like any other.”

“How is... that a skill?”

He looks at me like I’m insane. “Am I going to have to draw some pictures of what happens in a brothel, Jory?”

That makes me flush, which is ridiculous, because, aside from the obvious, I actually have no idea what happens in a brothel. “Maybe,” I snap.

“Oh.” He considers that. “People come for a lot of different reasons. Sometimes they come angry, and it’s better if they’re...not.” He shrugs. “Much like fighting in the arena, if you don’t want to end up with broken ribs, you pick up a little skill.”

Well, that’s sobering. His voice is so casual, but I glance over at him, and I can’t help the pity in my gaze. I realize the king is looking at him the same way.

Asher sighs. He flicks his eyes at the ceiling. “Sometimes it’s easier to be a shadow.”

I frown, but Ky has reached a large, ornate steel door, and he pushes through.

Cool air finds my cheeks and lifts my hair, and I realize we’re outside.

Well...sort of. The clear sky stretches overhead, and we’ve reached that point of twilight where stars have begun to twinkle to the east, while the last bit of sunlight still glows above the horizon in the west. The moon has risen, hanging just above the mountains, which tower above us.

But we’re still clearly in a room—or perhaps a low-walled courtyard, because there’s no ceiling.

Intricate metalwork is on display here, too, spires and twists stretching along the wall, reaching high into the air.

Flowering vines would be stunning in this room, but I wonder if the drought prevents them from growing.

The floor is marble, gleaming in the moonlight, and a dozen massive square pools stretch in two rows, leading away from us.

The water in each is tranquil, reflecting the stars above, creating a fascinating illusion that the sky has been captured in twelve distinct frames.

“The Hall of Stars,” says Asher.

Ky looks at him. “Yes,” he says, and he seems pleased.

Then he sketches a sigil, and light flares.

As he did in the hallway to my chambers, he touches his hand to the wall, and the flame catches, racing along the stone.

It streaks all the way around the room, coming back to where we stand at the entrance, brightening the space.

But as I watch, the ring of fire does not remain along the wall.

There are other, narrower paths, and flame crawls more slowly along the iron artistry, until all of it is lit and glowing.

Fire has also followed a dozen small trails to light up glass stones below these pools, similar to the basin in my washroom.

The entire space begins to glow and flicker, from the marble to the iron to the water itself, but the reflection of the sky never shimmers, never changes.

“Oh,” I breathe, because words don’t seem powerful enough to capture it. We have nothing like this in Astranza—and now that I’ve seen it, I never want to leave.

“I hate most of the palace,” Ky says. “But I do love it here.”

That gets my attention. “You hate the palace?”

He nods, as if that explains everything. “Come. Sit. You can ask your questions, Princess.”

He leads me to the middle of the room, where there are stone benches and wooden tables.

Some are lined with plush cushions, while others are bare.

The Hall of Stars is clean—pristine even—so I can tell it’s well cared-for, but the bleakness of the entire palace is shocking to me.

In Astranza, a space like this would never be empty. The fires would never go cold.

Ky gestures to one of the cushioned benches, and I sit. Asher drops beside me, and I’m startled when his thigh brushes mine. The king looks down at us both for a long moment, then turns one of the wooden chairs to face us, and sits himself.

All of a sudden, I’m reminded of the morning we met. We sat just like this, and I had a hairpin clutched under my knuckles. He disarmed.

We spoke honestly—or so I thought.

“I would like to begin anew,” I say, feeding him the exact words he said to me that morning.

As usual, his eyes spark with cunning, and maybe a little appreciation. But it’s only for a moment, and then they turn sad. “I don’t think that’s possible at this point, Princess.”

The word has never put distance between us, but just now, it seems to. “Jory,” I say softly.

“Jory,” he concedes.

Silence builds between us for a long moment, and I begin to realize Asher was right. The king can only set the field as an adversary. As if we were preparing for battle. As if this were truly an interrogation. Maybe that’s why he keeps saying I’m formidable. Maybe he doesn’t know any other way.

Very well, then.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your sister?” I say.

His mouth twists, and he glances away. “Victoria is...well. You only saw her for a moment, and perhaps a moment was enough. In many ways, she seems to have the mind of a child—though she’s not .

That said, she can be easy to manipulate, easy to control.

It would take nothing for someone with bad intentions to use her against me—or in place of me.

” He pauses. “She has always been kept very secluded, with private caretakers. When necessary, I can present her at court, for brief periods.” Another pause.

“She’s very direct, and often quite lucid.

She appears aloof, not addled. Very few people know the truth. ”

I study him. “What happened to her?”

He takes a long breath. “I don’t know for certain. I was young when she was born. Our mother did not survive it. The baby was...very small. Very weak. They told my father she would likely not last the season. So he took me to the battlefield, and left her with a wet nurse.”

“He left your sister to die ?” I say.

“And he took you to war ,” says Asher.

Ky’s frown deepens. “Again—I was young. I don’t know every thought that crossed his mind.” His voice sharpens a bit. “But his wife was dead, his daughter was close, and he had a son left with no mother. So yes, he took me with him.”

I understand the sharpness in his voice—because I feel the same thing. “My mother died, too,” I say quietly.

“And mine,” says Asher.

Ky sighs, then runs a hand across the back of his neck. For a flash of time, he looks heartbroken, but then it’s gone.

Oh . That’s why he hates it here. This is where his mother died.

This is where his most sorrowful memories are kept.

So his life is split between a place like this and a battlefield where he risks his life and his people perish.

He clearly loves his sister. I could hear that in every word he spoke to her—and I saw his pain when she seemed unaware of it.

But she’s vulnerable. She leaves him vulnerable—and therefore his kingdom vulnerable. He hates that, too.

I genuinely didn’t think anything could be more tragic than what Asher told me about himself. No wonder Ky is so desperate for this alliance—and so relieved that we discovered the truth about the assassins.

“What else do you want to know?” Ky says to me. The sharp edge is back in his accent, emotion locked away. He’s the perfect soldier again, ready for war.

“Does she have magic?” I say carefully.

“Yes.”

My heart thumps. “So she can sketch sigils—”