“Are you sure you don’t have something simpler?” I asked. This was too much.
The look Remy gave me was almost tender. “I’m sure. Call if you need anything.” He pointed at a golden cord attached to a lever on the wall. “Enjoy your bath.” Then he ushered the surprisingly quiet Legacians into the hallway and closed the door behind them.
I drew a steadying breath. Grandmother’s tutors had prepared me for court life, but I’d never expected to actually use their lessons. The castle was overwhelming, and despite thesixmen fate had given me, I felt out of my depth—and alone.
I rolled my tired shoulders, shuffled into the bathroom, and stripped off my travel-stained clothes. I opened a crystal bottle and poured its contents into the quickly filling tub. The scent of flowers bloomed in the air, and bubbles floated above the water’s surface.
I slid into the hot water, and for a moment—just a moment—I let myself imagine I was safe. The warmth seeped into muscles knotted with tension. But even as I tried to relax, my ears strained for sounds beyond the bathroom door. Footsteps in the hallway. Voices that didn’t belong.
I squeezed floral-scented gelée onto a cloth, scrubbing away the road’s grime. This level of luxury felt wrong—too much, too easy.
How many times had I cheated death in the past few weeks? And now I was supposed to soak in a marble tub like nothing had changed?
I washed my hair with shampoo that smelled like hyacinths, but my mind wouldn’t quiet.
When the water cooled, I stood and wrapped myself in the softest towel I’d ever encountered.
It was only then that I realized I didn’t have clothes to put on. Much as I loved the leather leggings and blue tunic, they were filthy. I wanted something clean.
I took a moment to brush the tangles out of my hair, tightened the towel around my chest, and ventured into the bedroom, hoping there were clothes in the closet.
The fire in the hearth had dimmed to embers, casting long shadows, and I crossed to the balcony doors. Outside, snow whispered against the glass. The world seemed hushed, waiting, and a trickle of dread slid down my spine.
Without thinking, I summoned the rose-handled dagger. “Who’s here?”
Silence stretched until it was as thin as a spider’s thread.
I kept my shoulders loose, ready, and breathed in the unfamiliar scent of cold steel and vinegar. A stranger lurked in the darkness.
“Enough.” I adjusted my grip on the dagger.
A figure emerged from the shadows. Tall. Bulky. A man. Clothed in black. A mask hid his face. And twin blades glinted in his gloved hands.
His left blade sliced through the air toward my throat—a silver blur.
But I was ready. I raised the dagger, and steel met steel.
He was strong,
I barely had the strength to parry his first blow.
The assassin lunged low, and I leaped back, my bare feet finding the edge of the hearth. I kicked the iron poker into the air, catching it in my hand and parrying a second strike.
Sparks danced like fireflies where his blade met the poker.
“Who sent you?”
The assassin didn’t answer. Instead, he swung again, his blade screeching against the stone mantel when I ducked.
I rolled under his next slash, grateful for the countless hours I’d spent training. If I made it through this, I’d have to write to Grandmother and tell her the tutors and instructors were worth every penny.
He thrust a blade at my heart, and I retreated into the center of the room. He was too fast. Too strong. I had split seconds to react. No time to form a plan. No time to call upon my magic.
He followed me, and our blades met in a tremendous screech of steel.
When we parted, I rolled across the foot of the four-poster bed, the magical vines brushing my shoulders as I came up on the far side. The bed served as a barrier between us.
For half a second.
