I look back at Asher. “Did you see the coins?”
“No. All funds are held by the keeper of the books. No one receives their share until the job is done.”
That seems convenient. I try to examine this from as many angles as I can consider, coming up with nothing. Neither Dane’s order nor “mine.”
“I did not do this, Princess. I swear to you. Untie me, and we can return to the palace, where you can question my men yourself.”
Jory says nothing for a moment. She’s stopped shivering, and her eyes are piercing as she studies me.
But then her gaze softens, and she shifts forward. I think she really is going to untie me—until Asher grabs her arm. “Even if it’s not him, Jory, this order came in before dawn. Someone from his traveling party did this in his name.”
“Then it’s a forgery,” I say to him. “Or a trick. My men were with me for the entire ride to your palace.”
But as I say the words, I realize they’re notentirelytrue. My men were with me until the last hour, when Sev and I split off.
But still. I can’t see the other four conspiring to have the princess killed and hiring an assassin in that final hour. Not together, and not individually. They all know how desperately Incendar needs this alliance. Besides, they wouldn’t bother with hiring an assassin. If any one of them wanted her dead, he just would’ve done it himself.
“I said the same thing about Dane and my father,” Jory says. “This has to be a trick.”
Asher makes a frustrated sound. “Those are both official orders, sealed by the Guildmaster. If these jobs weren’t completed by sundown, the price was to be cut in half, and they’d send another Hunter. Now that we’re gone, they probably alreadyhave.” His voice turns cold. “If you returnalive, the Guild won’t receive the full pay for these assignments—and you’ll still be at risk. IfIreturn alive, the Guildmaster will sell me away to make up the difference. I got you out of the palace, Jory. I gothimout of the palace.” A darker note enters his voice, something hollow. Somethinghaunted. Every muscle on his frame is tense. “But I’m not going back to the slavers. Not even for you.”
“Asher,” she whispers. She frowns and reaches toward his arm.
He immediately stiffens, drawing back. Her frown deepens, but she lets her hand fall.
My eyebrows go up. “Slavers?” I say. “There areslavesin Astranza?”
Jory glances at Asher, then back to me. “No. Not really.”
Asher says nothing. His jaw is a hard edge. He’s very deliberately not looking at her now.
“Not...really?” I say.
Jory regards him for a moment, then bites at her lip before answering. “They aren’t slaves,” she says, and her voice is quiet. “They’re indentured. It’s a debt repaid by service. Generations ago, it began with penalties for wrongdoing. If someone was found guilty of a crime, a fine would be levied by the Crown. If the criminal had no funds, there were wealthy nobles who would cover what was due and force the debtor into service until the balance was repaid. But now,anyunpaid debt can be sold for service, and there’s quite a business to be made selling the indebted citizens to those who need workers.” She hesitates, casting a glance at Asher again. “Admittedly, rumor says that some are more honorable than others. But it’s more equitable than leaving prisoners languishing in a cell, and fairer than leaving a family without food because of a husband’s gambling debts.”
On the surface, it’s an intriguing concept. Making citizens work off the penalties of their crimesdoesseem fair and equitable—and beneficial to the kingdom. I can tell by her voice that she has been raised to believe in this system.
I can tell by Asher’s expression that he thinks it’s complete and total horseshit.
Interesting.Because they might be friends, but I’m not sure the princess is aware of how deep his tension runs. I see the longing in his eyes every time he looks at her, and I can hear the devotion when he speaks. But I watched him withdraw when she reached for him. She spoke so matter-of-factly, while the sheer mention of these slavers seems to make Asher very unsettled.
I wonder what he did to earn thisindenture, whether he owed a debt or committed a crime. Based on this venture, I can probably guess.
He notices my focus. “Stop looking at me.”
“Did the slavers give you those marks?”
His eyes narrow. “I told you to stop looking at me.”
“So that’s ayes, then.”
He draws his dagger, quicker than lightning, but he doesn’t move from that spot. “If you don’t shut up and look away, I’m going to cut your eyes out.”
I hold his gaze. “Then do it, Asher.”
The princess sucks in a breath, but Asher goes very still, like a panther that’s spotted its prey and is waiting for the precise moment to leap.
I shouldn’t provoke him. If he actually attacks me, I have no way to defend myself. But I’d rather have him angry than anxious, and I don’t think he will.
