Assassin Queen (4 page)

“Can we return to the inn?”

“She might be nothing more than a common prostitute. I’m a realist. I’ve been gone a long time. That he occasionally takes comfort in a woman’s bed doesn’t mean he’s been unfaithful in his vow to me.”

“Mommy, Daddy….” Two kids raced through the crowded streets and threw themselves at the man and woman in a tackling embrace. The knight stopped kissing the woman and laughed heartily as he bent over to scoop the youngest one up in his arms.

“She might be a whore, but it looks like she’s also the mother of his children.”

Kirin looked over at Lilly, but her heavy riding cloak kept him from seeing the expression on her face. Still, he’d been working with her long enough to imagine her brow scrunched and her lips pursed in pain. He hated to think of her heart being broken. Not enough to wish her back with her knight. Enough to feel bad for her, however.

Lilly growled. “But he promised.” The words were strained and heavy with emotion.

As much as Kirin disliked the idea of her being deceived, he couldn’t let the man take the full weight of blame.

“You yourself admitted that it’s been a long time. Ten years can feel like an eternity. He’s a man, not a saint.”

The moment the words had escaped he wished he could take them back. The only thing more dangerous than a woman scorned was an assassin scorned. Giving her a reason to target her anger on him was beyond foolish. It bordered on suicidal.

“Then he should’ve done what half the male population does. Take a damn mistress. He didn’t have the right to wed and produce offspring with her. He promised that to me.”

“He didn’t know if you’d ever return.”

He couldn’t stop talking. He knew he should, but he couldn’t force his mouth to stay shut. What was worse was he didn’t even know why he was defending the man he’d spent a week fantasizing about killing. It felt wrong even to him. But, after seeing the man with his family, he no longer hated the knight. He’d gone from Kirin’s mortal enemy to just another random guy.

“He wanted a family. You can’t expect him to sacrifice his needs on the hope that someday you’d return.”

“Yes I can. I sacrificed”—she stopped and took a deep breath—“a lot over the years because I made a promise to him. My promise meant something. What did his to me mean, I ask you?”

She nodded at the family in answer to her own question. “He promised me he’d await my return even if it took an eternity. Yet his oldest child appears almost eight years of age. Is a year what passes for an eternity these days?” Her foot tapped with apparent irritation as she said the words. “Men. You have no idea what fidelity truly means.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you. If you find a man you can trust out of your eyesight, best keep a tight hold. He’s a rarity.”

“No. I’ll not make the same mistake twice.” She stared at the family for a moment longer before turning with a flourish. “I will not allow a man to betray my trust a second time. There will be no more betrothals. I’ll rule this land alone.”

His eye twitched with irritation at the bold—not to mention rather public—nature of her announcement. She never took things one step at a time. The only possible outcome in her mind was the one that pleased her. Ten years of living on the streets surrounded by thugs and mercenaries, and yet she was still a princess at heart. Everything had to work out the way she willed it to because that was the only way it could. The presumption drove him mad at times.

“First,” he cautioned softly, “you must take the land back. And that might be a little harder than you originally thought. It’s a safe bet the Guard isn’t going to side with you against the King.”

He followed her as she made her way through the city streets. Night was starting to fall, but torches hung from the tall poles that lined the streets. Their light would keep the darkness at bay for hours, yet he still felt slightly panicked about being out after the sun set. Something about this city put him on edge.

“You worry too much.” She walked so briskly that he had to rush to keep up.

“Need I remind you that getting the support of the Guard was our entire plan?”

“It was
a
plan. But it wasn’t my only plan.”

“There was another plan?” This was the first he was hearing of it.

“Certainly. There’s always another plan.”

“Do share. How do you plan on turning the support of the people to your favor and removing your stepfather from a throne I’m assuming he’s grown accustomed to?”

“Swaying the people is the easy part. Now that my mother has died, the people will be desperate for a true leader. They hold no respect for my stepfather. And that brat he spawned is too young to lead.”

“That brat is your brother.”

“Half-brother. And he’s too young to rule regardless.”

He had to give her that one. The people would have to accept a regent until the boy was old enough to rule. He couldn’t imagine why they would if given a true heir as an alternative.

“And what of your stepfather? He’s going to be hard to get to without the Guard’s aide.”

The sound of his name on the wind made him stop. When the noise came again though, he decided it was nothing more than branches blowing in the gentle breeze.

She turned toward him as they reached the large double doors of the inn.

“Bishop Thomas was hard to get to.”

She had a point. The corrupt religious leader had surrounded himself with the best mercenaries money could buy. And, since he controlled the gates to heaven—at least in his parishioners’ eyes—he had enough money to purchase what equated to a small army. Yet they’d brought him down. It had been a bloodbath that would live on in legend for centuries to come. But, in the end, dead was dead.

“He’s no Bishop Thomas,” she said sharply. She pushed open the doors and stormed into the inn with the grace and entitlement that could only be given to a person by noble birth.

He moved to follow her but stopped as he heard his name again. This time he was certain it wasn’t the wind. Something had called him. He stared out into the empty blackness just beyond the reach of the lights. There was something there. Watching him. He could feel it.

“Are you going to come inside or stand there all night letting the vermin in?”

The sharp cry of the innkeeper pulled him out of the trance just as he started to take his first step toward the presence.

“Are you feeling all right?” Lilly reached out to him as she asked the question, but he brushed off the touch.

His heart raced, and his palms were damp with fear. No. He wasn’t feeling good at all. But he refused to let her see how shaken he was. He walked into the inn and then shut the door firmly behind him.

“I fear there are strong compulsions lurking in the dark corners of the night.”

She glanced around the room but then gestured for him to follow. Their merry little group had booked three rooms on the second floor, and, as she started to make her way up the staircase, it appeared they were joining the others. When they reached the second landing, they made their way to the middle room. The group seemed to like to congregate there when they weren’t sleeping. Only after she tapped on the door in the coded sequence did she turn the knob and push it open. To do so any earlier would have resulted in her death. They didn’t take the threat of spies or mercenaries lightly. They couldn’t afford to.

He walked in after her and sank into the nearest chair. The others gathered around them, waiting to hear what had happened. As he glanced at their faces, he had to admit that they looked like the collection of thugs and assassins they were. But when one plots the murder of a king, these were the people you wanted at your back.

“Kirin took ill just as we got back to the inn.”

Lilly stripped out of the riding cloak and threw it on a bunk before turning to face him. She wore her usual black leather riding breeches and a matching corset. The outfit didn’t just show off her feminine charms; it also somehow managed to accentuate every damn curve. She swore she wore the outfit for stealth and comfort. And, though he understood how skirts would make it more difficult to ride and fight, he was fairly certain she wore the pants and corset just to drive him crazy.

“I didn’t take ill.”

He watched as she ran her fingers through her waves of silver hair. That alone was the reason she had to wear the heavy cloak whenever they left the confines of the rooms. She could be persuaded to don petticoats and a gown if need be, but there was nothing that could be done for her hair. It was a beacon of her royal birth.

Her boots clicked against the wood planks of the floor as she crossed the room. When she was standing directly in front of him, she crouched down so her face was level with his.

“You looked ill.”

She brushed her hand across his forehead like a worried mother, but he quickly shook off her touch. He didn’t want her to touch him. Not in that manner.

“Something in the night called to me. Twice.”

She stood once more and took a step back. “But no one knows you are here.”

“I didn’t say it was a person.”

She started pacing as she always did when she was in thought. “Are you saying there’s magic at work?”

“We haven’t been here long enough for me to be certain. It might be my exhaustion getting the best of me. I will know for certain by nightfall tomorrow, though.”

Tracking down another magic user wouldn’t be a hardship. And disposing of her wouldn’t be difficult either. He couldn’t remember the last time another magic user had rivaled his ability.

“If there is another caster in the city, I’ll make sure they’re no longer a threat when you go up against the King.”

“Good.” She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “I wouldn’t put it past my bastard stepfather to enlist the help of a witch.”

He felt his chest tighten at the insult but then forced himself to relax. He’d heard the slur enough in his life that it didn’t bother him anymore. Except it had when she said it. She wasn’t talking about him, but it still hurt.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

He looked up to see her studying him carefully.

“Yes. I’m fine.” He shook off the pain and forced his mind to return to the problem at hand. “I was just thinking about the caster.”

If his suspicions were right, they were dealing with something more powerful than a witch. The call had been too seductive to be that of a common practitioner. If Kirin were pressed, he’d put his money on an enchantress or siren.

He didn’t want to say anything to Lilly, though, until he knew for certain. There was no point in worrying her over a hunch. She looked tired and stressed as it was. And no wonder with what she’d witnessed that evening.

“But I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t handle.” He looked around at the rest of the men to include them. “And what of the knight? Is he going to need to be taken care of as well?”

A week ago, Kirin would’ve jumped at the chance. Now he found he was apathetic about the man. Lilly, however, seemed to have a more passionate response as her top lip lifted into a sneer.

“No.”

She surprised him with the simple declaration. She always wanted retribution for being wronged. For a moment he worried for the safety of the knight’s wife, but then she sat down and said, “He will not stand against me when I take the throne. And I do not turn wives into widows and rob children of their fathers out of petty jealousy.” She folded her hands neatly in her lap. “He made his decision and—if I have any say in it—he will have a life long enough to ensure he fully regrets it.”

He smiled as the brilliance of her plan took shape in his head. She certainly was a creative woman when it came to matters of revenge.

“Fitting fate.” To have her close enough to touch but yet out of reach was the worst torture Kirin could imagine. And he would know. It was his daily existence. A large yawn startled him out of the thought. The activities of the day seemed to have taken their toll on him as well.

“If you don’t mind. I believe I’ll retire now.”

Tomorrow was going to be a challenging day at best. Being sleep derived wouldn’t help.

“Take the first room. I find today has left me too anxious to rest. I’ve no plans of retiring any time soon.” Lilly handed him the key to the room she’d claimed as her own.

It was unexpected to say the least. But he hadn’t gotten into the inner circle of the Assassin Princess by questioning good luck, and he certainly wasn’t going to start now. He took the key from her and left before any of the others could challenge him for the room. Having a bed to himself was a blessing in the current situation. A whole room, however, was a luxury beyond imagination.

And it was an indulgence he intended to fully enjoy. As soon as he crawled into the bed, he closed his eyes and stretched out to take up as much of space as possible. He’d forgotten how comfortable sleeping could actually be when there wasn’t a three-hundred-pound brute snoring in his ear.

Of course, it wasn’t perfect. Not when every movement brought with it the fragrance of honeysuckle that trailed Lilly. It was challenging being around her during the day when they were both fully dressed and preoccupied with their current assignment. But it was infinitely more difficult when he was lying in her bed with nothing to think about other than her soft skin and perfect curves. Her scent alone made him hard with desire.

He tossed and turned for a few minutes but then gave up on the idea of finding a position that was comfortable with his erection. There was no way he was ever going to get to sleep in his current condition. He slipped a hand down his trousers before taking a firm hold of his dick. He couldn’t help but picture her face at the touch. But the mental image didn’t seem enough. It was more than her physical features that stirred him. True, her beauty was beyond question. The bards had sung of it in her youth. It had been her strength, however, that had truly fascinated him. And there was no way to capture that in a simple illusion.

Her story had been too unique to dismiss when they had been introduced. She had been exiled—forced to live on the streets of foreign kingdoms—when she was only sixteen. How many women would have died under those circumstances? Not her, though. She had found a home among the outcasts of society. She had thrived.