Page 32 of The King's Sword
They quickly reached the docks along the canal with ease. Glancing about, Sabine thought this was a different location than the one they’d arrived at yesterday.
Evander withdrew his arm and nodded to one of the boats. Without questioning him, Sabine stepped in, taking the front bench and noting this was indeed a different boat. She made sure to keep her hood low so no one could see her face as she sat with her arms on her legs, hunched over, trying to look like a man under the cape.
Evander stepped in after her and untied the boat. He shoved them away from the dock, and they made their way toward the center of the canal where they immediately caught the current, heading south. Evander sat on the bench behind her.
After a few minutes, she turned around to face him. “You just killed five men.” Six if she counted the one from the house. It had been terrifying and mesmerizing to see. Evander had moved as if a brush stroke from an artist’s hand—smooth and unwavering.
He kept his focus on their surroundings, not bothering to respond. While Sabine knew he was an assassin and the leader of an assassin guild, seeing him in action was very different from knowing it. She had no idea if this was the sort of thing he did daily, weekly, or monthly. While killing those men seemed like nothing to him, it was something to her. He’d saved her life. But was her life worth those six men?
Shifting the topic, she said, “I want to thank you for the, uh, snake thing.” She scratched the side of her neck.
At that he looked at her, his green eyes dark under the hood of his cloak. “I didn’t think you were going to jump in time. That’s why I killed the snake.”
Interesting that he justified the snake’s death but not the men. “I assumed killing the snake was your plan all along.” She clutched her hands together, playing with the ring on her finger.
He shook his head. “I was afraid if I missed, I’d infuriate the creature and we’d both wind up dead.”
“It doesn’t seem to me that you’re the type of man who ever misses.” He had to have spent an inordinate amount of time honing his skills in the art of killing. She’d never seen anyone fight the way he did or throw a dagger with such precision. If she were a betting person, he was a man she’d never bet against.
“I don’t,” he said, confirming her suspicions. His piercing gaze remained on hers.
“What was your childhood like growing up?” she asked, genuinely curious how he’d spent his days. While he didn’t have the large muscles Rainer did, Evander was lean and toned, indicating a different sort of fighter.
A wry smile slid across his face, softening his features. “I have three older sisters,” he replied. “I think that explains enough.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, trying to imagine a younger Evander being fussed over by a handful of women. While Sabine had grown up chasing after her brothers with a wooden sword, Evander had probably played with dolls.
“What about you?” he asked. “I’ve heard some scandalous stories about the wild princess from Bakley.”
“All lies, I’m sure,” she said, appalled that she’d been hailed as wild. As the sixth born, she doubted anyone cared enough about her to investigate the sort of person she was.
Evander scanned their surroundings, not looking at her as he said, “When my father began looking for a proper wife for me, he considered you.”
Shock rolled through Sabine. Until Rainer had inquired after Alina, she never thought her or her sister would marry someone from another kingdom. She’d mistakenly assumed they weren’t important enough. Now, she realized how naive she’d been. “I had no idea,” she replied, dumbfounded by his admission. Her parents had always made it seem as if she didn’t matter, which was why she’d always thought she’d marry for love. How wrong she’d been.
“Once my father learned you ran wild with barnyard animals, were rude, and what was the word he used? Oh, yes, you behaved barbarically, he deemed you an unsuitable match.” Evander chuckled.
“Are you serious?” How ironic that they should consider her the barbaric one when Evander was the one running around killing people. This assassin-pirate-prince. She folded her arms, irritated. “I don’t recall your father ever sending a delegation to Bakley to meet me.”
“He didn’t. He sent a spy.”
She raised her eyebrows at that. “And your spy determined all of this about me?” She found that hard to believe. Granted, she liked to ride her horse, run through the fields barefooted, and help feed the animals in the barn by their castle.
“He did. At first, my father assumed he was joking because it is well-known that women from Bakley are proper, refined, and generally prudes. But when he sent a second spy who confirmed what the first spy said, we knew it had to be true. You were deemed unfit to marry into our family. I think my father said you were clearly a farmer’s brat.”
Sabine’s eyes widened as embarrassment set in. Yes, her father was the king of a kingdom of farmers. Yes, she tended to do as she pleased. But she knew how to behave. At least, when she wanted to. “Maybe he should have investigated my sister, Alina. Had he done so perhaps you would have been engaged to her since she is—was—a proper woman. Maybe then she’d still be alive and my family not tied to Lynk.”
“I think I was ten when he sent his spies to Bakley.”
She wanted to hit him. Here she’d been thinking all of this had recently transpired. If he’d investigated her character when she was only ten, then yes, she was a wild child.
“Today, when you took hold of that branch and pulled yourself up, I knew, without a doubt, that all the stories were true.”
“Why’s that?” she asked.
“Because you were strong enough to climb a tree and you didn’t hesitate to do it.” He glanced at the shoreline.
She had no idea what to say to that.
