Page 37 of The Barbarian King's Assassin (Magic and Kings 1)

“If I’m just another failed assassin, why hire me to protect you?”

“Because, of them all, you got the closest.”

“I never left a mark on you.”

“Only because you hesitated.”

“Did not,” I huffed.

“You did.” Then more softly, “We both did.”

A puzzling thing to say, and before I could reply, he trotted off.

CHAPTERTEN

The rain hitus before we reached town, meaning a bedraggled group cantered to a stop in front of the inn. The hanging shield painted with a boar roasting over a spit had me hopeful for dinner.

As we entered, I noticed the place was empty and later found out the king had sent one of his horde ahead to rent the entire tavern. For savages, they had plenty of coin to spend.

Konstantin escorted me up the stairs to a room. “I probably have a shirt big enough for you to wear.”

“I am not wearing your shirt. Mine will dry quickly once I place it on the stove.” A metal fat-bellied heater sat in the corner.

“You’re coming down to eat dinner naked, then?”

The thought of warm food made me salivate. “I need more than just a shirt. Find me some clothes.” I didn’t snap my fingers, but he arched his brow at my imperious order.

“As my protector, shouldn’t you be coming with me?”

“We’re inside an inn with all your people. Not to mention, no one has had time to plan anything since you left in the middle of the night and made excellent progress. So you have time to get me some clothes, seeing as you kidnapped me.”

“You’re bossy.”

“I am. Get used to it.”

“Very well, my little Yanna. I shall fetch you garments.”

He left but got his revenge. He sent a dress sporting a low, square-cut neckline, tight in the bodice and waist and flaring at the hips. I gnashed my teeth at how feminine I looked. Not dangerous at all. I calmed myself. This could be a good thing. I just had to use it to my advantage.

I descended the stairs slowly to the main floor, hearing voices falter then stop. Many eyes rested on me, but not those of the one man that interested me. Konstantin sat at the long trestle table, his back to me, casually drinking ale. A calculated move on his part, which had me sitting across from him.

Ignore me now.

Even he couldn’t or risk appearing petty. He perused me, his gaze resting overly long on my hint of cleavage. “It fits.”

“I would have preferred pants.”

“Prerogative of a king. I get what I want.” The grin he bestowed was wide and deserving of the kick I aimed under the table at his calf.

He didn’t grunt or utter a cry, but the corner of his lip lifted. “Does your protection not come with a bruise-free guarantee?”

“You assume I’ve accepted the offer to work for you.”

“Because you have so much choice,” he mocked.

“Wouldn’t you prefer someone vested in keeping you alive?”

“You should be vested because if I die, they’ll all be very angry.” He didn’t have to gesture for me to know who he meant. The horde could pose a problem if I got on his bad side.

---