Page 33 of Decoy

“The outside.”

He grinned. “That makes things much easier.”

“I beg to disagree. It gives me very little to work with, especially when I lack the proper tools that might aid my escape.” My usual trick with the hairpins was impossible with the new lock that had been placed firmly on the outside.

“That’s only a problem if you lack an accomplice. Have you forgotten you’re not the only one with the ability to scale walls or slink along rooftops?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

My heart sank as I understood his meaning. “Is the odious man you have in mind up for the task of doing so with guards posted below?”

He snorted. “I can more than handle a few guards.”

Unfortunately, I had no doubt they’d be no match for him, yet I refused to immediately humor him. I made a show of considering. “On second thought, perhaps I should instead seek the aid of one my maids.”

His shoulders slumped theatrically. “You wound me, Princess. Here I provide a gallant offer of assistance, and you reject me?”

“I have no reason to trust your sincerity. Need I remind you that you tried to poison me only yesterday?”

He flinched at my mention of poison, and for a brief moment his careful mask faltered, revealing an expression of vulnerability and almost…regret? Though guilt seemed the last emotion an assassin would experience after lacing my tea with lethal poison of his own accord.

“I’m not offering you poison now, nor have I slit your throat despite having ample opportunity. You asked for my help, and I’m offering it. You can choose to take a risk in accepting it…or you can choose to limit your freedom by remaining trapped in that room.” Puzzlement furrowed his brow. “I find it strange you’re locked inside. With the way you’re treated, it’s almost as if…you’re not a princess at all.”

It took considerable effort to keep my expression impassive. “I’m told it’s for my protection, but living a life free of risk isn’t living at all.”

His look was searching as he studied me a long moment before he finally nodded. “I understand completely.”

This emotion filled the spaces between us…which only escalated my guilt for the circumstances that had led me to seek him out, not just for the convenient excuse to engage in another battle of wits, but to uncover condemning evidence to turn over to the crown.

I told the advisor about you. The confession burned my lips, a warning that would partially repay my debt to him…even as I reminded myself I had no interest in protecting a man who’d threatened me. One of us would be required to take the fall, and I was determined for it to never be me ever again.

Our upcoming battle presented a much-needed distraction. I gave the dagger he’d gifted me an experimental twirl to better accustom myself to the feel and weight of the blade; its obedience to my touch made it easy to wield, which would ensure the accuracy of my aim. “Are you ready to compete? Unless you’re worried about being bested.”

His lips twitched. “On the contrary, I find myself quite curious how our competition will play out.”

Confidence in the outcome in this particular battle made me absent of my usual curiosity. While the nature of his profession made this man quite skilled, thanks to my own rigorous training I rarely missed even the most difficult targets.

To my delight, he was visibly impressed when I succeeded in hitting my first target with speed and precision. “I have to wonder what background allowed you to develop such skill.”

“A woman has many secrets.” In truth, the real story wasn’t particularly interesting, though it was undeniably special—I’d enjoyed watching my older brother train and had begged him to teach me so I could spend more time with him. The hours we’d spent secretly training together had provided a welcome reprieve from the circumstances brought about by the relatives we’d been foisted on after our parents’ execution; even the turmoil that came from hours of being worked to the bone on little food had melted away in his dear company.

After his own subsequent appointment with the gallows, throwing daggers took on a more significant meaning by keeping his beloved memory close, a balm that numbed me to the constant ache where my heart used to be, allowing me to momentarily forget I wasn’t completely alone.

A lump formed in my throat to think of him before I forced myself to lock the memory away along with the others concerning my deceased family.

I continued to hit increasingly difficult targets. I felt Luke’s heated gaze boring into me with each throw; a stolen glance revealed him watching with a blazing expression. I might have wondered if the look signified attraction if the thought of him being drawn to his prey wasn’t so absurd.

Yet I couldn’t deny that very feeling when his turn came and he flawlessly threw his blade, an emotion quickly overshadowed by annoyance that the insufferable man was good at this too. As our competition continued, I realized with increasing horror that his ability surpassed my own when he suddenly whipped out two knives to throw at the same time.

I gaped at the two daggers perfectly symmetrical at the center of the target before manifesting my wrath via a withering glare. “Why are you so good at this?”

He chuckled. “You’re complaining as if you’re not good yourself.”

“That’s not enough; I want to bebetterthan you.”

Especially as he was already good at everything else—whether it was sneaking along the roof, breaching the royal armory, disarming me, or slinking through the shadows. My fluster at the injustice of it caused my usual careful focus to falter, so when I next threw my dagger my hold slipped, causing the blade to nick my forearm.

I swore—behavior that would have the royal advisor after my head if he’d heard me utter such a foul word while under my princess guise—and dropped my knife. I gaped at the crimson blood trickling down my arm. Thankfully the cut wasn’t very deep, but it’d likely scar, which would only draw unwanted attention. I’d forgotten a handkerchief, which meant I’d once more be forced to rely on my enemy.

I sighed. “I beg your indulgence yet again. If you were a true gentleman you’d have offered me a handkerchief to—” My words ceased the moment I glimpsed him bent over as if he’d suffered a blow. I took a cautious step forward. “Luke?”

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