Page 9 of Warrior Princess Assassin (Braided Fate #1)

Chapter Four

The Princess

W hen we snuck through the palace as children, Asher and I never really worried about getting caught.

No one would punish a princess, and Asher’s mother was the queen’s first lady-in-waiting.

It’s very possible that we weren’t fooling anyone, and the actual staff simply endured our antics because of who we were.

But it felt powerful, like by changing our clothes we could also change our skins, becoming someone else entirely.

When we were teenagers, we learned to be stealthier, but it wouldn’t have been a huge scandal if we were caught.

If I’m caught dressed as a maid on the morning Maddox Kyronan is due to arrive, it would absolutely be a scandal.

When I slip out of my bedchambers in the stolen uniform, the halls are quiet and dark—and cold. Soft voices echo from somewhere nearby, so I scurry away from my door, keeping my head down.

It’s early enough that few people are out and about, and it helps that the lack of torches and lanterns keeps the halls very dark.

When I pass a footman in crisp livery, I keep my eyes on the floor, but he doesn’t glance in my direction.

I chance a look up, but I can barely make out his features in the shadows.

Maybe this will be easier than I thought.

By the time I make it to the central atrium of the palace, the soft hum of activity is echoing off the vaulted ceilings.

I’m at the top of the main staircase, allowing a wide view of the sprawling room below.

Servants and footmen and guards are everywhere, standing along the wall, arranging flowers, dusting fixtures, placing chairs, fluffing the tapestries.

There’s a bit more light here, from the stained glass along the front wall that paints vibrant shades of blue and orange along the walls, to the massive windows beside the main doors that allow the first glow of dawn into the room.

I search faces, but there’s no sign of my family.

My gaze stops on Drewson, the head butler, who seems to be engaged in a tense discussion with two men in black armor.

Black armor! Are these soldiers from Incendar? I creep closer to the steps.

“You there!” a woman hisses from behind me. “What are you doing?”

I whirl, choking on my breath. A hall maid stands behind me, and she’s older and pencil-thin, with hair drawn back in a tight bun. When she meets my eyes, I expect her to gasp and curtsy and say, “Oh, Your Highness ,” in appalled shock.

But she doesn’t. She repeats her demand with more emphasis. “ What are you doing ?”

I stare at her, my mouth working, but no sound coming out.

She snaps her fingers and points past me. “The servant stairs are that way,” she continues in a furious whisper. “You new girls can’t seem to manage to follow the simplest rules. You’re not serving mead in an alehouse anymore. What is your name?”

I can’t help but stare. I don’t know if I want to snap at her for being so irascible or if I want to hug her for not recognizing me.

When I don’t answer, she gives an aggravated sigh. “Well, I obviously won’t need to know it for long. Get out of the main stairwell!” She points behind me again, like I’m a disobedient hound. “Get! Go on, get !”

I get .

But as I cross over to the servant stairwell, I realize one of the soldiers is looking up at me.

His hair is brown—no, dark blond. There’s a night’s worth of beard growth along his jaw, too.

The crest of Incendar is stamped into the black leather of his armor, though he’s too far to make out much detail beyond the sword and hammer.

It’s his eyes that catch me, because he’s staring up at me so boldly.

My heart kicks again, giving an odd little flutter, and I have to remind myself that I’m dressed as a maid.

No common soldier would dare stare at the princess.

A flare of challenge sparks in my gut, and it takes me by surprise.

No one ever challenges me, not really. I’m protected.

Sheltered. Dismissed. Ignored. Never challenged , not even by Asher.

I want to stop for a moment, just to stare back and see who yields first. But that maid is still behind me, clearly waiting to make sure I obey, and these brutes from Incendar might stare at everyone. I avert my eyes and hurry along.

As I cross to the other side, I can’t help glancing back at the soldiers. The man isn’t looking at me anymore, and it sounds like Drewson is arguing with them now.

“You will stand to the side,” the butler is saying, his tone exasperated. It sounds like he’s given this directive more than once. “We will alert His Highness as to your arrival once your king is in attendance.”

The darker haired soldier draws himself up sharply. “You are speaking to the—”

“As you say.” The blond one gives Drewson a nod, then looks to his companion. “You heard the man, Captain. We will wait.”

Then I can’t hear any more, because I’ve reached the narrow entrance to the servant stairwell. Once I’ve gone down a few steps and around a tight bend, it’s suddenly pitch-dark from the lack of torches and lanterns. I can hear my own breathing, and I freeze on the steps.

I’m not afraid of the dark, not really, but the hair on the back of my arms stands up.

For a terrifying moment, this feels beyond reckless.

There are strangers in the palace, and I’m hiding in a dark stairwell.

I think of Asher, the way he slips through the shadows.

Someone could kill me right now, and no one would have a clue who did it.

But if I turn back, that old maid is going to pitch a fit, and I’m going to have to tell her who I am. She’d be humiliated, and likely punished if my brother heard about any of this.

And those soldiers are at the base of the stairs. Would they hear what was going on? Would they report back to Maddox Kyronan?

Or...would I be at risk? They have no idea who I am, and everyone seems to be afraid of these men and their king. Perhaps this is the most reckless part of my plan at all.

But I’m so desperately curious—especially since Dane kept me away from the negotiations. Everything I know about Incendar has always been a matter of rumor and hearsay.

But these are real soldiers, and they’re right here .

The steps end at a door, and it’s so dark that I nearly walk right into it. I push gently, unsure of what’s on the other side, hoping I don’t find another maid waiting to yell at me.

Instead, I find myself on the main floor of the atrium, in a bit of an alcove between two tables full of striking flower displays.

I’m also right behind the two soldiers.

I catch my breath and hold it. From behind, there’s something very tense about the set of their shoulders, the way they’ve taken a spot to the side of the room. They stand at ease, like soldiers awaiting an order, but they’re speaking in low tones to each other.

This close, I can hear every word.

The dark blond one from earlier is saying, “Now it’s a power play, Sev. We’ll be forced to wait for the others.”

His voice is low, but he has an accent that I didn’t expect, softening every word.

Does everyone from Incendar speak like this?

My lungs are screaming, so I let out my breath slowly to keep from making a sound.

I wonder who’s making the power play, whether they’re talking about my father or my brother—or maybe they just mean Drewson.

The other soldier is an inch taller, but not quite as broad through the shoulders. His hair is pitch-black, and long enough to be pinned in an unruly knot at the back of his head. “Well, we didn’t have to wait for the others.”

The first man snorts, then turns to look at him. He breaks off sharply as he spots me instead.

I bite my lip and quickly busy myself with arranging flowers that don’t need any arranging.

“We have an eavesdropper,” he says. His accent softens his r ’s and lengthens his vowels in a way that’s almost...tender. For soldiers who are known to burn armies to the ground and cut up what’s left, I can’t believe one of them can sound like that.

To prove him wrong, I completely ignore him, fluffing leaves, tilting stems this way and that.

I expect them to fall silent and stand at attention now that they’re aware I’m here, the way soldiers from Astranza would, but this one turns fully to face me.

“Or perhaps a spy,” he adds.

I don’t dare look up. I can’t tell if there’s a hint of warning or intrigue in his voice, but either way, my cheeks are growing warm. “Surely you can see that everyone is working. I just happen to be working near you.”

“Ah. Coincidentally, I’m sure.”

That gets my attention, and my hands go still. I look up at him. “Are you accusing me of lying?”

I’m being too bold for a servant, and his eyebrows go up.

He’s taller than I thought, and he seems to be more heavily armed than necessary.

Something about him is making my heart pound, and I can’t decide if it’s his closeness, his weapons, or the fact that I’m definitely not supposed to be here, and he’s very likely not supposed to be talking to his king’s future bride.

“No.” His voice drops, his accent curling around every word. “I’m accusing you of spying.”

I fix my eyes on the flowers and set my jaw. “I’m not going to be questioned about my integrity by an Incendrian soldier.”

He takes a step closer to me. “You think Incendrian soldiers lack integrity?” he says, and there’s a note in his voice that’s simultaneously dangerous and amused.

“I know of your reputation,” I say, though my heart is pounding now.

“Truly,” he says in surprise. “Tell me about my reputation .”