When his breathing settles, he doesn’t pull away. I want to get him linens from the washroom, but I’ll wait until he’s ready.
But then he says, “I bit your shoulder. I’m sorry.”
I look down, surprised to discover he broke the skin.
I kiss him on the forehead again. “That, Asher, is a wound I’ll wear with pride.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
The Assassin
I’ve been sleeping beside the king for days now, so I shouldn’t be awake. It’s just so odd to have him on one side of me, with Jory on the other.
Despite what the king said about freedom and protection, there’s still a part of me that wants to slip out of the bed and flee the castle. I could return to the shadows, where everything is less complicated.
You don’t have to pick a fight every time.
The memory of the words makes my throat go tight.
That’s what I want to flee. That...awareness. Not just from him. From her, too. It’s too much. Too intense. I clung to her in the Hall of Stars. I clung to him just now. I’ve spent too many years locking myself away, and now I feel as though every wall has been torn down.
I’m not ready for it.
Jory shifts in the bed, turning a little. Her hand, light and soft, lands on my shoulder. I’m frozen in place, wondering if she’s awake, if she somehow sensed my indecision.
No, she’s still sound asleep. I sigh.
But then I hear a sound, and it’s so faint I could almost ignore it. Not a voice, not a scrape, just a whisper of movement.
I go completely still. I have no idea if this is a Hunter or another Draeg soldier, but if either one made it to Lastalorre, this palace has so little internal defense. Ky said he was checking with his guards before we retired, but it’s clear that he sends his most experienced fighters to the battle against Draegonis.
I wait, listening for another sound. My eyes search the shadows, looking for movement.
Then a blade is drawn, and as always, I’m lucky I’m fast.
I roll, then punch, then duck when another blade comes out of nowhere. Pain erupts in my forearm, but I roll again. There’s not enoughlight to see much, but I spot three shadows in the darkness. Jory shrieks, but the sound is a momentary distraction. I reach for her, but her shift is jerked away from me.
“It’s me,” says Ky. “I’ve got her.”
Then it’s not dark at all, because the king has called fire. It surges from his hand, catching anything within reach, almost too bright. I see his form, clutching the princess, and then I see one of the attackers—just before they’re all but incinerated, leaving nothing more than a charred corpse on the ground. It’s quick and vicious and the most horrific thing I’ve ever seen, and it steals my focus for a terrifying moment. I can hear the princess’s heaving breath, too. As we stare, fire leaps to the wall tapestries, and smoke begins to fill the room. The princess coughs.
“Asher,” the king snaps. “Get her out. The walls are stone. The fire won’t spread from this room.”
“There are two more,” I say, because I saw them. But they’re either dead in the sudden inferno—or they’re hiding, using the smoke and shadows to their advantage.
I inhale a lung full of smoke, and the decision is nearly made for me.
“Asher!” the king says again, and he shoves her in my direction.
Jory shrieks, but I catch her, and I drag her into the hallway. The steel door slams shut behind us.
Suddenly we’re cloaked by silence.
Jory stares at me, shaking. “We have to help him, Asher. We can’t leave him in there.”
I look back at the door. As usual, I have no weapons. No protection against the flames.
I reach out and touch the handle anyway.
