Page 2 of Kingdom of Crowns and Daggers

“It’s true, he’s a stumbler, but I said enough. Walk away,” I command, swinging my sword with an effortless flick of my wrist to show them I mean what I say. “Or don’t. It’s been a while since I had a good stretch.”

Males like him can’t resist the challenge, and I knew that if I got involved, I’d be fighting at least one of them. They are bandits, they don’t care about right or wrong, and now they have a chance to prove they are stronger than an assassin, one of the great Daggers.

Grinning widely and showing me teeth as rotten as his soul, he chuckles. “Let’s put the rumours of the great assassin to the test, shall we?” the leader sneers, the nobleman forgotten. “Get her.”

“It’s your death.” I shrug nonchalantly, adrenaline flooding my body as I prepare for what I do best and duck the first two males coming at me. With a spin, I slice and bring my sword up to block an incoming knife. One howls as he stumbles away with a cut across his neck thanks to my quick movements—he didn’t even see it coming. Smirking at the one with his knife pressed to my sword, I throw my head into his, taking him by surprise and knocking him backward just as arms wrap around me from behind. When they lift me into the air, I use the momentum and flip us, landing on my knees in the mud before pushing up and slicing with my blade.

It’s a warning shot. The man’s shirt flutters away as he watches me, wide-eyed, before I turn and see another running towards me with a war cry. Jumping to my feet, I sprint towards him, only to throw myself to my knees in the mud, bend backwards, and slide through his open legs. Coming up behind him, I bring the pommel of my sword down on his head before he even has a chance to realise what’s happened. He crumples onto the wet, slick ground as I race to the nearest wooden wall. Running up it, I use my momentum to flip over the man chasing me, landing behind him. They aren’t about to stop, and they certainly aren’t just trying to injure me. These are kill shots, so I give up warning them. Wrapping an arm over his shoulder, I use my other arm to swipe my sword across his neck. He has a split second to realise what happened as he turns, attempting to cover the killing blow with his hands. I knock him to the ground with a kick to die like the dog he is.

Swinging my sword, the bloody tip bright in the darkness, I face the remaining bunch. “Still want to play?” I call mockingly as I move my legs into a defensive position and gesture for them to come at me with my free hand. They race at me at once, and I grip my sword with both hands. That’s the problem with these bandits: they don’t know how to work as a unit or coordinate their attacks.

As I meet the first of them, my sword hits his blade and snaps it. When the broken metal flings up into the air, catching the light as it reaches its peak and begins to fall again, I bring my leg up and kick. My timing is perfect and hits the shard where I wanted, and I watch as it flies towards one of the other men. It buries in his chest with a satisfying thud before he falls back.

The nobleman grabs for one of the men coming towards me, but I slam the flat of my sword into him and spin, kicking his chest until he stumbles back into the mud with a grunt. “Don’t get in my way,” I snap. “Stay down.” I quickly fling myself back into the fray.

I make quick work of the two that circle me. Feinting left and then diving at the one on the right, I run him through with my sword so he falls hard, blood seeping through his hands as he attempts to hold his guts inside his body. Turning to the other, I leap into the air and slice down, watching his head fall from his body and roll through the mud towards the final bandit. It’s poetic, really, and way too easy for me. I’m not even out of breath. I would have thought they would be harder to kill when this is their job.

I grin at the leader as his nostrils flare, dirt sprayed across his face and body. I feel it dripping down me as well, coating my body and hair, and I’m sure that along with blood, it’s even smeared along my face. Fighting in the dirt is always messy and my favourite type, since I was never allowed to before.

“Come on then.” My tone is impatient, but I’m relishing the chance to do this. However, he glances at the nobleman one last time before turning and hightailing it out of the alley.

Rolling my eyes, I sigh at his cowardice and slide the hilt of a dagger into my palm. I flick my wrist, watching the blade sail through the air, feeling grimly amused as it hits the fleeing man so hard it pins his body to the side of a wooden house. As I stroll over, I notice that one of the earlier men I incapacitated is trying to get to his feet. Bringing my sword down with a casual movement, I end his life. When I reach the now dead leader of the bandits, I press my knee to his body and pluck my dagger free. Wiping it on his pants, I slide it back into place before grabbing the coins in the leather pouch at his hip and shoving them into my pocket. I remove my knee and step back to avoid being hit by the body as it falls to the ground, now that it’s no longer being held up.

Turning back, I see at least one of the bandits has fled, but the others lie in broken parts around the nobleman, who is watching me with wide eyes.

I stroll back over to him, and he kneels there, watching me. His once pristine cloak is covered in mud, the arm cut away and barely hanging on by a few threads.

“Thank you,” the man says, reaching up for me like I will help him to his feet.

I crouch instead, using the tip of my bloody blade to lift the golden, shiny chain from his neck, holding it between us as I meet his blue eyes surrounded by long lashes. “You are a fool for wearing such things here.” I cut the chain away and catch the chunk of warm gold in my waiting hand. “My fee for saving you,” I say by way of explanation and pocket it. Standing, I tug my hood up and prepare to leave. “Go home, rich man, where you belong. I will not save you a second time, you moron.”

Chapter

Two

JOHA

Ihave never been called a moron in my entire existence. Truthfully, I am not even sure what the strange word means, but as I watch the retreating form of the female who saved me, I realise two things.

One, I want to know what it means.

Two, she is unlike anyone I have ever met.

Stumbling to my feet, I slip in the mud for a moment before catching my balance. I’m glad she’s facing the other way as I wobble, my cloak almost falling off in the process. Securing it while ignoring the tattered arm, I clear my throat and call out, “Wait!”

I hurry after her, stepping over the fallen bodies and cursing myself for my own stupidity. I thought I had hidden my station well, but apparently, I was wrong. It has been too long since I have been over the walls of the palace and in our lands. I had not realised the depths of despair and ruin it had fallen into and how I would stand out so much amongst them. That is exactly why I ventured here in the first place, and if not for the amber-haired beauty, I would be dead.

When I manage to catch her at the corner of a building, I grip her arm to get her to stop. What I did not anticipate, however, was how she would react to this. She spins in a move too quick for my eyes to follow and slams me into the wooden building. I have to smother every instinct to fight back and remain meek and dumb, continuing to pretend to be the person everyone thinks I am.

This woman and the bandits called me a stumbler. The look on her face as she spoke about it makes me think that whatever that is, it is not a good thing.

For a moment, I get a good look at her face. It’s shaped like a heart, pale, and dusted with the same coloured freckles as her hair. Her skin looks soft and perfect, not marred at all, unlike most from the lower part of our lands. I have the insane urge to reach out and brush my fingers against her skin to see if it’s really as soft as it looks. I manage to catch myself, though, as I would likely lose my hand for touching her again. After what I just saw her do to those bandits, it would be easy for her to take my life. Knowing this should make me fearful, but instead, I continue to stare at her, noticing how her unruly, curly hair is slipping out from beneath her hood, the colour reminding me of burning flames, warmth, and home.

Her eyes shine like the finest jewels of the king’s crown.

Her lips are full and pursed in fury, and they are the palest shade of pink, as if run across by the berries from the south. She is remarkable, and more beautiful than most court ladies that flock to me, yet unlike them, she watches me with barely controlled anger and annoyance.

When her voice comes, it is silken and contains a familiar lilt, yet her words are coarse and crude. “Fuck off, rich man. Touch me again and I will take your hand like your soldiers did to my family.”

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