Page 102 of The Barbarian King's Assassin (Magic and Kings 1)

“That’s impossible. This is where they were brought.” Jrijori appeared puzzled.

“Are you sure they weren’t being transported until morning?”

His lips flattened. “Maybe they decided to move them early.”

We both ran up the hall and burst into the room with the three sleeping guards, startling the one that walked in, his arm around a woman. The soldier’s jaw dropped. He followed it to the floor as my fist shot out and clocked him.

His companion took one look at me and retreated with hands up. “I saw nothing.”

We flowed up the stairs, exposed for the moment and unsure of what to expect. Would we emerge to find soldiers? The stairs ended in the bottom of the tower separating the east wing from the central part of the temple.

Jrijori looked up. “We could escape right now. The top floor isn’t being used currently. We could pop out a window and get to the west side.”

“I’m going after Konstantin.”

“Are you sure?”

I yanked on the door. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Determination didn’t mean I found the Barbarian. Nor were the Jaamans readying to leave. Everyone was abed according to the night cook. whose job involved prepping the pastries for breakfast.

If Konstantin wasn’t here or in the dungeon, then could it be he’d escaped? Given the sentiment of those on the west side, he might have had help.

“Time to go before we’re noticed.” Jrijori tugged me into an alcove to whisper.

“Okay.”

But as he slipped into the tower to head back to the west wing, I shut the door behind him and barred it. No need to drag him into what I planned next.

I ignored his knocking and headed up the stairs I’d spotted to settle a score with the man who’d tried to murder me twice.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE

The grand vizier’squarters proved easy to find. He had a pair of guards stationed outside his door. I shook out my hair and unbuttoned my shirt. Couldn’t do much about the sheath on my hip, but hopefully the sight of breasts would distract.

I sauntered into view. “Hello there,” I purred. “I hear someone has a birthday.”

“Uh, n—” The quick jab in the ribs cut off whatever the soldier would have said.

“That’s me,” said the jabber, puffing out his chest.

“I’ve got a present for you.” I crooked a finger as I neared.

Their slack-jawed faces went even more limp when I got close enough to act. I kneed one hard enough in the sac he couldn’t breathe. The other I grabbed by the head and dropped, using my full weight, which wasn’t much compared to a Weztrogian but enough for this more regular-sized fellow.

He hit the floor. Rapping his head off the stone a few times knocked him out. The other, still gasping for air, went to grab me. I scissored my legs around his and twisted, bringing him down. The thump of our struggle was louder than I liked. Given Jrijori’s earlier warning, I abstained from killing them in order to avoid problems with the priests. I knocked them out instead—against my better judgment.

No one emerged from the rooms flanking the hall to ask about the noise. Everyone was asleep or unwilling to be bothered.

The door the soldiers guarded opened easily, not locked or barred. Height of arrogance or stupidity? Could even be a trap. Didn’t stop me.

I slid inside and shut the portal quiet enough it didn’t even click. I paused to orient myself and caught the rumbling snores of someone asleep. The lamp left burning on a dresser lit my path to the bed and the lump beneath the covers.

The grand vizier woke as I neared. The old man with bleary features popped to a sitting position, his hair a wild halo as he hooted, “Who?”

It amused me to say, “Death.” The tip of my sword rose level with his face.

The grand vizier blinked. “You! You’re supposed to be dead.”

---