Page 42 of Kingdom of Crowns and Daggers

Looking sheepish, Joha nods, turns, and jogs towards his rooms. Waiting until he’s out of sight, I roll my shoulders and neck, wishing I could escort him back. However, I have a job to do.

Growling down at the body, I prepare for a long couple of days. I need to discover if there are any more traitors in the guard, in my guard, and I need to make sure the palace is properly protected. An assassin was killed by an assassin.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I bend and lift the dead guard, throwing him over my shoulder. Usually, I’d have more respect for the dead, but this man attempted to commit treason, and I have zero respect for people who try to hurt my king.

Where was Alyx during all of this anyway? It seems convenient that she disappeared during the attack. I’ll deal with that in the morning, but for now, I have a body to bury.

Checking that the coast is clear, I cross the clearing and head to the place that I’d been heading to anyway, and the only place where you can hide a body without anyone finding it—the lake.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

ALYX

My hand drifts to the small cut on my arm. It’s not even bleeding anymore, but the skin is torn. I sweep my hand over it, smiling as I remember my shock at Joha landing that blow. Shaking my head at the foolishness of what we just did, I drop my hand and turn away, leaving my torn, bloody clothing on the floor of my rooms. I will need to move them before my ladies-in-waiting attend me in the morning, but for now, I’m alone and allowed to be just Alyx, not the queen-to-be.

I hurried back after Joha left, not wanting to be caught slinking around. Something about our encounter unsettled me anyway, so I wanted to get away so I could clear my head.

The candles flicker brightly, casting my sprawling rooms in warm white light and shadows. I’ve been assured these are very good rooms, and my ladies-in-waiting seemed overjoyed, but to me, it is just another place to lay my head.

I have not had a home since that night, not even my room in Crux’s kingdom.

My bed is set back in a rectangular addition to the suite with windows above it, which is currently shaded and covered. Before it is a sitting room with a formal table as well as all the knickknacks expected of a queen-to-be. To the left is a separate dressing chamber filled with more clothes than anyone could ever need, a mirror, and a vanity table. To my right is a private bathing chamber with a huge, clawfoot, metal tub and indoor toilet.

There are gilded decorations everywhere, along with ancient pottery and tapestries. It’s like they took all the opulence they could think of and threw it into one room. Take the ceiling for example—they hid the wooden beams by draping red, gauzy fabric around it, creating a soft, cosy interior.

It works, settling the nerves inside me, which isn’t necessarily a good thing. There are, however, lots of places to hide my weapons without snooping guards or ladies-in-waiting finding them. It was the first thing I did when I came in here.

Sighing, I slide a dagger back into the holster on my thigh, unable to sleep without one or two on my body. Wearing nothing but a blue sleep gown they provided, which I must admit is the comfiest thing I’ve ever felt, I begin the task of darkening the room from the many candles.

My mind drifts as I do.

I remember the look on Joha’s face as he left me there. I remember the way it felt to spar with him. It felt good. He wasn’t the king, and I wasn’t an assassin. It was just Joha and Alyx.

Snap out of it, I tell myself. Annoyed at my own feelings, I lean over and blow out a candle, extinguishing some of the light leading to my bed.

I stiffen, bent over as the air behind me changes.

It’s a slight shift, but one an assassin would recognise anywhere.

I’m not alone.

Dragging my blade from my thigh, I turn with a whirl and bring it up to gut whoever dares attack me, but I hit the bedding hard as a body clashes with mine, their hands capturing my wrist as if knowing my movements. My blade is flicked away, embedding in the wall to my left with a thud. I kick and twist, adrenaline fuelling my actions as I act on instinct. Freeing my hands, I roll us until the person is below me. I hold another dagger in my hand, having pulled it from my bedding, and press it to his neck before I truly look at who it is.

“Crux?” I frown in confusion, not understanding.

Using my hesitation, he flips us again, slamming my hands to the bed repeatedly until my fingers spasm and the blade drops. Gripping my hands in one of his, he presses mine above me, stretching me out below him. He sits on my thighs to stop me from bucking and freeing myself, and I freeze below him.

Annoyance and confusion swirl through me, as does a spark of desire as I stare into his tanned, scarred face. The candles flicker behind him, caressing his skin and lighting up his almost black eyes as he peers down at me silently.

I glare up at him as he grins down at me, a cocky, smug smile curving his lips. I jerk my eyes up and away from them, letting my irritation fuel me and ignoring the spark of desire that ignites inside me at being so close—pesky fucking thing. “What the fuck do you think?—”

He cuts off my words with his movement, his head tilting down. His intention is clear in his eyes.

My whole heart freezes, my eyes widening, but I do not have time to figure out how to react because his lips are on mine. He nips, licks, and kisses my unmoving lips.

Crux is kissing me, tasting every inch of my mouth as I lie shocked beneath him. Of all the times I have imagined this, I never thought it would happen, and now he’s here, in my rooms, kissing me . . . .

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