Page 84 of The Princess's Chosen

"I'll go and—"

"No, let me," I said, putting a hand on Aric's shoulder. He frowned and looked me over. "Cresswell and I both served in the army. We know a little of what this feels like. Let me go and speak to her."

I kept my eyes on Bryony via Cresswell, saw the moment she came to a standstill at the heart of the warehouse. Cresswell dipped, speaking in her ear, and then a moment later they both veered quickly for the door. I didn't wait for Aric's answer, following the path toward the door, weaving my way carefully around the bright conversation of thieves and rogues and con-artists.

I reached the door and paused, taking a deep lungful of clean night air, letting it dilute the notes of copper and bile clinging to my nose. Footsteps clapped away from the warehouse, running toward the wall of the city. Cresswell followed at a slower pace, and I jogged to catch up with his back just in time to catch the sounds of retching.

"She should've let us do it for her," Cresswell said under his breath as we walked together to the crouching bundle of our princess, her hands braced against the wall and body knotted in on itself.

"She's strong. He was her enemy more than the men I fought on battlefields were mine," I answered. "But I wish she hadn't needed to. Let me."

Cresswell stopped, shoulders tense and eyes fixed to Bryony's heaving back. "I'll make sure no one comes out to see."

I moved slowly to Bryony. The crown was discarded on the ground, away from the mess she spat into the wide gutter bordering the city. She pushed off the wall and fell back on her ass, her palms bracing herself on the brick, head tipping back and face lifted to the open sky.

"I will be fine in a moment," she rasped, twitching at the sound of my approach.

I knelt down a few feet away from her and waited for her head to turn, eyes to slowly focus on me. "I wore myself hoarse throwing up every time I walked off the field," I said.

Bryony blinked. She looked a little drugged, not tired, but hollowed out. "I can't imagine you killing men."

"I don't remember if I did," I said, shrugging. "It was madness. I mostly tried not to get killed. But I remember faces. I don't know if I killed those men or someone else did, but I remember them. Just as you'll remember his."

Bryony's face crumpled briefly, eyes sparkling with sudden tears, and I slid across the mucky bricks of the city to wrap her shuddering body in my arms. She held her sobs in, shaking and biting off her moans behind clenched teeth. I buried my nose in her hair, took deep breaths, releasing them slowly, waiting to see if she would unwind or let my rhythm settle her.

"I had to," she squeezed out, the words grinding between her lips.

"Yes," I said, even though there wasn't a true answer. Not when it came to killing a man. No one everhadto kill someone. Bryony had made a choice and gone through with it, and I would never second-guess her.

"I thought I would feel better," she murmured, more to herself than to me.

I kissed the crown of her head. "You will." I looked back to the warehouse, where a group of men were carrying the body out through the doors to a cart, to dispose of it away from any watchful eyes. "For now, we'll go back inside."

Bryony hummed and let me help her up from the ground. She held her bloodied hand away from her and I ducked, tucking the crown back into my bag and fastening it securely shut. We didn't want someone snatching it, and who knew with thieves.

Cresswell joined us, blocking Bryony from the eyes of the men, and reached out with a dark cloth in his hand. Bryony grabbed it and began to rub her skin roughly, blood staining the cloth and flaking away to the ground.

"What am I supposed to say to these people?" Bryony said, breath catching as she began to scratch at her own skin.

"Nothing," Cresswell said.

I caught her hand in both of mine, hiding the remaining stains from her eyes. "Go in, and wait for them to come to you. If they have any sense, they'll keep to themselves."

* * *

For the most part,the court did give Bryony room, and this time her Chosen stayed close at hand. Aside from Aric, we might not be thieves but we werehers, and we were going to stand at her side.

"Well, lass. You certainly make an impression on a man."

For the most part they avoided us, but there were a handful of minor kings in attendance and they each took their turn examining the newest member of their rank.

Bryony's smile was somehow hard and coy at the same time. "I hope from here on out it is the right impression. Clearly, some were left confused."

The king before us, a weathered old man who was only as tall as Bryony and twice as wide, leaned back with his laugh. He'd gone directly to Aric, who was quick to defer to Bryony and Griffin, and both eyed the man like they were just waiting for him to make one more slight against them.

"I'd like to say we'll have learned our lesson, but we're a surprisingly thick-headed lot for being so deft in other areas," he said, grinning. Aric had introduced the old man as Gullet, which seemed like a nickname, but he'd never bothered correcting it.

"But for myself, I won't take many reminders," Gullet said, leaning into Bryony, just enough to lower his voice but not so close that she bristled. "My wife is my own brains when it comes to court, and I find my work better for it."

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