Page 7 of Warrior Princess Assassin (Braided Fate #1)

Chapter Three

The Warrior

I t’s nearly dawn, and we’re already late—clearly the perfect time for one of the carriages to get stuck in the snow.

I raise a hand, calling a halt to my short cadre of soldiers. The driver snaps his whip and chirps to the horses, but the carriage doesn’t move. Wood cracks.

Fuck .

We’ve been riding for hours in the frigid moonlight, without a single lantern, torch, or bonfire to be seen for miles.

The darkness has been absolute, creating wide swaths of gloom in every direction, making travel reckless and challenging.

On any other night, I’d draw a ball of flame to sit on my palm, something strong enough to warm my men and light our way.

But I gave my word that I wouldn’t use magic on Astranza’s soil, and I’ll keep it.

Then again, I made that promise when I thought this kingdom would have at least one torch lit somewhere.

The mountains of Incendar have never felt as bleak as these windy, snow-covered fields.

I wonder if this is normal for this time of year or if it’s a vicious display of King Theodore’s power—possibly an attempt to bait me into using mine .

Whichever it is, I can’t imagine his citizens are grateful.

We’re supposed to be allied nations in a matter of days, but this feels like the prelude to an attack.

The entire country seems to be trapped in a snare of apprehension.

Or maybe that’s just me. Even in the dark, we’re too exposed. A coil of tension wrapped around my spine hours ago, and it refuses to let go. I’ve been searching the swirling snow for any sign of movement, just waiting for an arrow to snap out of the shadows and pierce something .

I’m exhausted. And freezing, which is a good bit of irony.

Sevin Zale, the captain of my First Regiment, sits astride his own horse beside me.

He’s been quiet for at least an hour, and that’s unlike him.

I wonder if the weather and worry are getting to him, too.

When the horses can’t clear whatever stopped the carriage, Sev heaves a sigh and dismounts.

He looks at the four soldiers behind us, then jerks his head toward the carriage. “Callum. Garrett. Let’s push it free.”

My men obey, but they’re as silent as he was. No one is having fun on this journey.

Callum and Garrett throw their strength into the task, their boots slipping in the snow as they attempt to shove the carriage free. Wood cracks again, and one of them swears.

“It must be stuck in a rut,” Roman calls from behind me. “You’ll have to lift it a little.”

Garrett snaps his head up to glare at him a little breathlessly. “Why don’t you get down here and lift it a little?”

If they start bickering, we won’t move at all—and we’re an easy target out here in the snow. I swing down from my own horse. “We need to keep moving. If you two lift, I’ll help push.”

But just as my feet hit the snow, shadows shift, and a figure takes shape in the darkness.

Without a thought, I have a weapon drawn. Every muscle goes tense, ready for battle. Garrett and Callum have shifted to block me, and moonlight glints on their own blades. Nikko and Roman are still on horseback, but their bows are raised, arrows nocked.

A male voice cries out in alarm. “Stop!” he shouts, and his voice sounds old, thin and cracking. His Astranzan accent turns every consonant flat. “Please! I came to see if you needed help!”

Moonlight beams down as clouds shift overhead, and I can see him more clearly. The man is old, with thick gray hair in a swirl around his head—and he’s alone. He also appears to be unarmed, with nothing more than heavy boots and a thick cloak. His gnarled hands are empty.

My heart settles—but only a little. It could still be a trap. I don’t put away my weapons. Neither does anyone else.

“Where did you come from?” I say.

The man points behind him, and I realize there’s a small house a short ways off, almost invisible among the shadows and snowdrifts. “Just there.”

While I’m staring, the man draws closer, his hands raised.

He’s short and stocky, with a heavy gut and a lumbering gait.

He peers at Garrett. “Your armor—Is that—” He breaks off, his eyes going wide when they fix on the circular crest stamped into the leather.

Even in the moonlight, the silver markings clearly reveal a sword and a hammer crossed over the outline of a mountain.

“Incendar,” he whispers. His eyes skip over us all, then flick to the gilded carriage that’s sitting a little crookedly, trapped in the snow. “You’re escorting your king to the palace in Perriden.”

Sev cuts me a glance, but all he says is, “Yes. We are.”

The man wrings his hands. “He’ll stay inside there, won’t he?”

My jaw goes tight. “Who?” I say flatly—because I know who.

The man draws back another step. “Your mage king,” he says quickly. “I don’t want any trouble. We’ve followed the orders.”

I sheathe my sword and sigh. This man is too anxious to be setting a trap for a wild hare, much less a contingent of armed soldiers. I move forward to brace my shoulder against the carriage beside Sev. “Have no fear,” I say, resigned. “Our ‘king’ will stay in the carriage.”

“Good, good,” says the man. But he wrings his hands again.

At my side, Sev murmurs, “You really should be in one of the carriages, Ky.”

He’s right. I probably should. Negotiations for this alliance took months.

I’d get reports from couriers and advisers about the demands from Astranza, and I often thought we might never come to terms. It’s clear these people don’t want me here.

Not really. But appearances matter, and a king shouldn’t show up to make a wedding proposal in battle-worn armor.

I should be in full court finery, reclining on a velvet bench, watching the snowflakes drift down through a tiny window.

But I’m not stupid.

“If anyone attacks, they’ll go for the carriages first,” I mutter under my breath.

Sev flicks his eyes skyward. “On my count,” he calls to the others.

Garrett and Callum take hold of the rear wheels, and Sev counts to three. We push, they lift, and a moment later, we’re all breathless—but the carriage is free.

Still on horseback, Nikko and Roman have lowered their bows—but arrows are still nocked. Their attention is split between the man and the horizon.

We’ve all seen far too much violence to fully trust any stranger on the road.

The man has backed away another step. He’s shivering now. “That’s it, then?” he says hopefully. “You’ll be on your way?”

I swing aboard my horse. “We’ll be on our way.” But then I realize what he said, and I frown. “Wait—you said you followed orders. What orders?”

“To douse all the flames at sunset.” The man’s eyes flick to the unstuck carriage again, then at the other two ahead of it. “So as not to tempt your king’s power.”

I set my jaw again. No wonder it’s so dark and cold.

“Well done,” I say, and my voice is still flat. I pull a coin from the pouch at my waist and toss it to him as we begin to ride away.

He catches it eagerly. “Thank you, soldier!” he calls after us.

I grunt in response.

Then we’re on our way again. My four soldiers fall into formation behind me and their captain. Sev is as quiet as he was the instant we stopped.

I glance over to find his eyes scanning the darkness to our east. “No stories tonight?” I say.

“I’ll have a good story tomorrow about why my balls are frozen solid.”

It makes me smile—until he falls back into silence. Then my face shifts into a frown. I usually count on Sev to talk my ear off when the world is tense and uncertain. In fact, it’s how we met.

Ten years ago, we were twenty, alone and cornered by two groups from Draegonis who’d killed the rest of our battalion.

We’d taken refuge in a narrow culvert near the border, sweat-soaked and bleeding.

We were nothing more than strangers in matching armor, united by fear and a will to survive.

I didn’t know it at the time, but enemy soldiers had already torn my father apart, limb from limb.

As the crown prince, I was their next target.

My magic was still new and wildly unpredictable, and in my exhaustion, I could barely summon a spark.

I was certain the Draeg soldiers would find us, and we’d both be killed—or worse, taken prisoner.

I didn’t even know his name, but Sev must have seen my panic.

Or maybe he was trying to hide his own. The Draegs were closing in on us from both sides, shouting from outside the culvert that they’d found our tracks.

I kept desperately sketching sigils in the air, trying to draw fire so we could drive them back, and Sev.

..he just started rambling. He started with a story about the girl he tried to charm by leaving tokens of affection at her door—only for her to confide that she was actually madly in love with his sister.

Then he told me about bedding a girl who ended up being the captain’s daughter, resulting in him eating slop for a week.

By the time he got to his fourth failed conquest, Draeg soldiers were pouring through the opening—but his distraction had worked.

I was ready to punch him to get him to shut up, but I wasn’t panicking.

My sigils flared, pulling fire from the enemy torches, swirling into an inferno that I turned back on the attackers.

Some escaped the flames, and it was then that I quickly learned why Sev had survived to make it into the culvert with me, after the rest of our regiment had been destroyed.

He was shockingly good with a sword. Together, we fought back the remaining soldiers, until we were the only two left standing.

We were soaked in blood and both a bit singed from the flames, and it took us two days to make it home to our commanders.

Sev never left my side.