Page 50 of Kingdom of Crowns and Daggers

Nobody can resist a damsel in distress. Sniggering to myself, I hurry past them since they are distracted and open the wooden door, striding into a long room where men sit around a table. All turn to me with wide eyes, a mixture of shock and anger greeting me. They wear an array of coloured robes, which swish as they surge to their feet. I ignore them all, my eyes focused on a bored-looking Joha, who quickly blinks and stands, frowning at me.

“Alyx?” he queries, his gaze dropping to my body. His eyes widen as he takes in my dress.

I’ll admit that it feels good to see him checking me out, but we have more important things to deal with.

“My king, this is improper,” one of the scholars protests.

“Very.” I nod in agreement. “You will have to excuse me. I just had to see my king.” I bow my head respectfully, demurely, and look up through my lashes. “This is all so new to me, and I am very lost. Please excuse my ignorance, my lords. I know how very busy and important you are, but may I steal a moment of your king’s time?”

It works—flattery always does with men like this.

“Well, we can understand it’s a lot to learn. Things may be different here than in your land, Princess,” one of the men replies.

“You are too kind, sir.” I bow deeply, laying it on thick.

“You are all dismissed,” Joha booms out, eyeing me worriedly.

“My king?—”

“I said, you are dismissed,” he warns, turning his eyes to the table, giving them a dark look. I have to hide my smirk as I watch. It’s a very sexy look on his usually emotionless face. Ignoring their grumbles, we wait for them to file out of the room, and only when the doors shut do I straighten. Ignoring him watching me, I head over and hop onto the table, swinging my legs as I watch him.

I expect him to be angry at me barging in, especially after last night, but what I don’t expect is for him to slump in his seat, his chin perched on the palm of one hand as he rubs his head with his other hand. “Thank you, that meeting was so tiresome. I mean, how many times must we discuss taxes?” he complains.

Laughter tumbles out before I can control it. “You’re welcome. I’m not here to rescue you though.” I wink as I slide off the table and lower my voice, all traces of laughter gone. “I need to know the description of the person who saved you last night.”

His eyes cut to me. “Orion?” he queries, knowing he was the only person who would tell me this. I smirk, and he rolls his eyes at my lack of an answer. “Why?”

“I have a theory. Indulge me, my king,” I reply.

“I have a feeling indulging you wouldn’t be wise,” he mutters but straightens and quickly lists what he remembers of the person who rescued him last night.

Just like I thought.

Cruz saved the king, but why? He hates him, and he would take any opportunity to get me back home, so surely letting the king be killed would accomplish that?

“Well?” Joha prompts, interrupting my thoughts, and I blink and bring him back into my vision. “Alyx?”

JOHA

Her eyes flash as she stares at me, lighting up with recognition. She knows who saved me. I wait impatiently, my eyes sweeping down her body once more before I jerk them back to her face. She looks different today. The juxtaposition of the leather-clad assassin last night with this perfect princess is throwing me off. The deep emerald dress only enhances her tanned skin, and the way it drapes across her body protectively reminds me of armour, yet the cut-out across her chest has me swallowing hard.

I remind myself that Alyx is an assassin and her body is an extension of that, a weapon that she wields effortlessly. Even now, as she slides from the table, each movement is lithe, graceful, and purposeful. She exposes some of her tanned leg, drawing my eye there to seduce and distract me.

Does she even know she’s doing it?

Does she even know that I have to fist the wood of the chair to stop myself from reaching for her? She is beautiful, and that is just as much of a weapon as any blade. She is deadly, and I can’t afford to forget that. She is no mere woman, she is death itself, and falling into that trap might bring pleasure but also my end.

Would it be worth it?

Would death be worth it for one taste?

Her words snap me from my dangerous thoughts, and I ignore the heating of my cheeks as I force my eyes to meet hers. “I know. I’ll be going now.”

“Who was it?” I demand as I stand.

She stills, eyeing me. “Death. If you see him again, run, Joha. Run and do not look back.”

“I am not afraid. I have faced you, and you are like the Grim Reaper,” I joke, but it falls flat as she steps closer with a swish of her skirts, almost touching me, and my breath catches at her proximity. She peers up at me through her lashes, her painted lips curving in a wicked smile. She is enough to tempt any man, never mind a king.

---