But I’m too slow, or maybe he’s just too fucking fast. Asher explodes out of the carriage, and before I can blink, he’s got a chain around Garrett’s throat.
Chapter Seventeen
The Assassin
Ithought they were never going to open the stupid door. When I heard that asshole argue with Jory, I thought for sure he was going to stand guard in the snow, leaving me locked in here all night. I broke the seat support an hour ago, and at first I was worried they’d hear it and drag me out. But the wind and the snow must provide for good insulation, because no one stopped the carriage to investigate. I thought about trying to slip out while we were moving, but the king was right about one thing: I have no boots, no cloak,nothing. Just the few woolen blankets they left me with. If these Incendrian soldiers didn’t kill me, the weather would’ve taken care of it.
So I hid deep in the corner of the carriage, tucking myself against the velvet seams.
And then I waited.
When the door opens, I spare one second to enjoy the king’s surprise when he realizes I’m “missing,” and then I explode through the opening. I’ve got the steel links of my shackles wrapped around the knuckles of one hand, and he snaps back when I hit him. It gives me enough distance to land a solid kick to his sternum, and that clears the doorway. My branded shoulder is screaming at me, but I grit my teeth and try to ignore it. That soldier Garrett is swearing, already reaching for weapons, but I’m too quick. I grab hold of his armor, leap onto his shoulders, and get that chain around his neck.
Just as the king summons a handful of fire.
I freeze, tightening my grip, my knees pressing into the soldier’s armor. We’re all breathing hard, breath fogging in the night air.
Well, Garrett’s not doing so well with that. Not with the tension I have on this chain.
“Asher,” says the king. “Let him go.”
“So you can melt this chain through my arm?” I saw the way hemade Jory drop the dagger. I have no doubt he could do it to this chain, too—if I didn’t have it wrapped around his soldier’s throat. “No, thank you. You already tricked me once.”
“I didn’ttrickyou, I was making sure a man who attacked me didn’t have the opportunity to do it again.”
Garrett is wrenching at the chain, but I dig in with my fingertips, using my knees to grip tight to his back. He’s even bigger than the king, and every muscle in my body is reminding me that I’ve been hit a dozen times today—and I haven’t eaten anything since that cookie I shared with Jory. Spots keep flaring in my vision, and I redouble my grip.
Then Garrett tries a different tactic. He whirls to slam me into the carriage. The hard wall collides with my shoulder, and I cry out, my suddenly slick fingers losing a few links. I scramble to regain purchase, to pull the chain taut again.
But now Garrett has a grip on it, and he dives forward into a roll. I see it coming and let go, trying to spring free so he doesn’t drive me into the ground.
Unfortunately, he’s too strong, and this timeI’mthe one who can’t break loose. I barely have time to tuck my head before he pulls me into an awkward somersault. My shoulders slam into the ground—and then he lands right on top of me.
I take his full weight: armor, weapons, and all. It knocks the breath right out of my chest. Those spots in my eyes turn to flaring stars.
Well, this went poorly.
I’ve lost track of the chain. I’ve lost track of how tobreathe. I barely realize when he rolls off of me, because I’m so focused on forcing air back into my lungs, and I feel like I’ve swallowed my tongue. I definitely taste blood in my mouth. Before I know which way is up, I’m dragged onto my knees in the snow, and the horizon spins. I don’t know what’s worse: the frigid snow against my bare feet, the fact that the king still has a ball of fire ready to incinerate me, or the soldier who’s found a blade and now has it against my throat.
“Garrett,hold.”
The king’s voice slices through my awareness, and his soldier goesstill. Garrett’s eyes are dark and furious, though. His own throat is scraped raw from where I got him with the chain. He’s standing over me, his free hand clutching the neckline of my shirt, holding me still. Breath clouds between us, equally rapid.
He wants to finish what I started. I can see it in his face.
But he obeys the king’s order. He draws back an inch, but his gaze is locked on mine, his focus on the dagger.
So I wrap the chain in one fist and use both hands to punch him in the crotch.
Well—I try. The king grabs hold of me before I can make impact. He shoves me hard, the movement forceful enough to make me fall back in the snow.
Garrett glares down at me. “Please, Ky,” he says. “Let me breaksomething.”
“Not yet.” The king reaches for my tunic, and I try to scramble back, but my body won’t respond quickly enough. When I swing forhimwith the chain, he grabs hold and pulls me upright. It wrenches at my shoulder and makes me gasp.
I wait for the chain to sear into my skin, but it doesn’t. Instead, he glares down at me. “You had my sympathy for about five minutes,” he says, that velvet accent clipped. “Now you’re just being a pain in the ass.”
I don’t know what to say to that, and he uses the grip on the chain to jerk me closer. I’m still on my knees, so it puts me on eye level with his belt.
