My eyes burn and my breath hitches, and I force myself to swallow it down. I have no right to cry. Ky just watched one of his men die, and now he’s bound and gagged, being forced toward the back of the guest quarters.
I remember the moment he saw my bruised fingers. The sudden flare of protectiveness in his gaze.
He’s not trying to kill me. I know he’s not.
I just needed a few more minutes to figure out how to ask him.
Asher drags the king into the washroom, the hobbled boots making each step shuffle. His eyes are cold, every muscle on his frame tense. I heard what Asher said when he convinced Ky to rise to his feet, and after what he did to the first soldier, I’m terrified that he truly meant every word.
In the washroom, there’s a small window above the water pump, but it’s nowhere near big enough for us to crawl through—especially with Ky bound as he is. The walls are paneled with wood, and I’m startled when Asher uses his dagger to pry one open, revealing a pitch-dark gap in the wall, with a wide bricked hole in the floor.
“I’ll take him first,” he says to me, his soft voice tight and clipped. “We need to be fast. Pull the panel closed behind you and follow us. I’ll wait at the bottom.”
“What?” I gasp.
But he’s already looking at Ky. “Jump, Your Majesty,” he says. “It’s not far.”
The king glares back at him, and he doesn’t move.
I remember listening to his gentle accent, watching the smile break across his face when he told me to call him Ky. I couldn’t imagine how someone like that could be responsible for all the rumors spoken about him.
But now I can. The king’s eyes promise vengeance. Furious, painful, deliberate retaliation. He doesn’t seem afraid. He seems like he’swaiting.
If that look proves anything, it’s that this man wouldn’t hire an assassin. He’d break me with his own two hands.
Asher isn’t cowed, though. He steps forward with the dagger. “You can land on your feet, or I can push you.Jump.”
The king’s eyes flash with fury, but he jumps. Whatever he lands in makes a wet, squelching sound. Then the smell reaches us, and I realize what we’re about to jump into.
Asher’s eyes flash to mine, and he’s become so intimidating that I step back before I can stop myself.
He blinks in surprise, a tiny frown line appearing between his brows. For a flash, he’s not a terrifying assassin kidnapping the king of a rival nation; he’s Asher, my gentle childhood friend, the man I welcomed into my room in the dead of night.
“Jory?” he whispers.
I swallow, and my throat is so tight that it hurts. “You killed his soldier.”
“No. I—” He breaks off when we hear the king take a step in the muck down below, and Asher looks aggrieved. “Remember to pull the panel,” he murmurs. And he jumps into darkness, too.
Then I’m alone in the washroom, my breathing a roar in my ears. I’m tempted to pull the panel closed in front of me, trapping them down there together. I could check on the fallen soldier—or more likely, I could collapse in a pile of sobs right here. I imagine the Incendrian soldiers finding me in the washroom, leaning against the wall, choking on my heartbeat.
“What king?” I’d say. “There was akinghere?”
A near-hysterical laugh bubbles up from my throat. This is insane.
Before I can think too closely about what we’re doing, I step into the small space and pull the panel closed. Then I hold my breath, tuck up my skirts, and jump.
I expect it to be horrible, but it’s worse. That hysterical laugh nearly turns into a sob. It’s almost pitch-dark down here, and the smell is an assault to every fiber of my being. My eyes burn. I remember Asher vowing that I have no idea what life is like outside the palace, and Ihate that this is my first taste of it. Surely being hung can’t be worse thanthis.I refuse to drop my skirts. I’ve never been more grateful for the suede boots I chose to wear, instead of the satin slippers Charlotte usually sets out.
“Breathe through your mouth,” Asher says. “Put your hand on my shoulder, Jor. I’ll lead us out.”
For the first time in my life, I don’t want to touch him.
I also don’t want to stay here, and the thought of losing track of him in the darkness is just as terrifying as everything else. I put a hand on his shoulder.
As we walk, our feet squish with every step. We find so many turns that I can’t imagine how Asher learned them all. But it’s not long before I learn why he insisted that we be silent: we can hear voices from above. Sometimes there are spots where the floorboards are worn and light peeks through. I listen for cries of alarm, some sign that someone has realized the king is missing.
But there’s nothing. My chest clenches.
