The Assassin
The inn sports a tavern on the first level, and it probably wasn’t crowded when we arrived, but the addition of the king’s men, along with the princess and her lady, means the room is rather full when we walk in. Warm, too. Jory spots us almost instantly, but so do the other soldiers. This is already humiliating enough, so I grit my teeth and keep my head down. I still feel every pair of eyes in the tavern look from the king to me, and then to the chain linking us together.
I wish I had my jacket, so I could hide under the hood. The Incendrian soldiers might be unfamiliar, but I know what this looks like to every single citizen from Astranza. I’ve got a shackle on my wrist and seven stripes on my face. Probably a fair share of bruises, too. The spot where Dane split my lip still stings.
I hear a sharply indrawn breath, and I glance up to see a mix of shock and anger wash over Jory’s expression. I have no idea what she finds the most infuriating, whether it’s the blood that’s surely on my neck or the bruising that’s left over from my treatment in the dungeon. Or maybe it’s just the chain tethering me to the king. Her hands are planted against the table, and she looks ready to march over here to punch him in the face.
Ah, Jory. She couldn’t stop her brother, so I doubt she can do anything now.
I never wanted her to see me like this.
The tavern keeper stops in front of us, blocking her view. He looks from the king to Garrett, and then, very briefly, to me. He’s an older man with a heavy paunch and thick gray hair that’s thinning on top and pulled into a knot at the back of his head. His eyes aren’t unkind, but he looks tired.
“As I told the other soldiers,” he says apologetically, “we don’t have much left. Everyone’s been after a hot meal since the decree was lifted,and it’s late. But we’ve got ale, and we’ve got a bit of stew left over the fire.” He casts a dubious glance at the others, then back at us. “Itshouldbe enough to share, if you don’t mind meager portions. A few loaves are left, too, but we’ll have more in the morning.”
Meager portions. My stomach clenches hard. I’ve seen the size of his soldiers. That means I won’t be eating.
Nothing new there.
“We’ll make do,” the king says. “You have our gratitude.”
The tavern keeper glances at the crest of Incendar in the center of his armor. A worried line appears between his eyebrows. “Ladies of the court are with you. Will your king be coming through tonight as well?” His hands curl together, his knuckles showing white. “We’re all very worried about our princess. Your king is such a harsh man, and Princess Marjoriana is such a kind creature...or so the stories say.”
“You have nothing to fear,” Ky says. His tone is resigned, and something about that is surprising. “Our king will not be stopping on his journey. And no harm will come to your princess.”
“Good!” the tavern keeper says, clearly relieved.
This man is the king, I want to shout.Right here! There are enough of you. Kill him while you can.
But Ky would probably break my jaw before I could get all that out. I know Garrett would.
I need to get away from them. If I can get away, I can figure out a way to getJoryaway.
Being chained to the king is going to present a problem. As usual, I’m powerless to help her.
I clench my jaw and glare at the ground again.
The tavern keeper continues, “I can have my son take your bonded man to the stable.”
The king is silent for a moment, and I hear the confusion in his voice when he says, “The footmen will see to the horses. If you could send a meal to them as well, I’d be grateful.”
“No, yourbonded man,” the tavern keeper says. “Unless...” His eyebrows flick up suggestively. “Unless he’s of the kind you like to keep at hand.”
The king is staring at him like he’s speaking a different language. A frown line on his forehead deepens. “I’ll...keep him at hand,” he says.
“Ah, yes. Very well, then. I’ll see to your meals.” The tavern keeper turns away. “If you take a seat at the end, I can bring you a straw mat. If you like.”
The king glances at Garrett, who looks just as puzzled, and is maybe a bit angry about it. Poor baby.
This would be hilarious if I weren’t the one being discussed like a piece of livestock.
The king runs a hand over his face. “Why would I want a straw mat?” he demands.
“Oh!” says the tavern keeper. “Of course.” His eyes flick to the lines on my cheek. He must catch a glimpse of the blazing fury in my eyes, because his gaze skips away immediately. “No mat for this one, then. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
I scowl. The man dashes away before saying anything else.
The king sighs, but he must be too hungry and tired to caretoomuch, because he turns toward the table. I follow because I have no choice. Garrett moves to the far end, but the king heads for the closer side, across from the princess and his captain. She refuses to look at him, glaring at the wall behind him instead, her eyes iced over.
