Page 27 of The Assassin's Bride

With the last letter, Gil snatched the paper away and took the pen from her hand. “Congratulations,” he said, a deep rumble of humor in his voice as he swept his own signature across the proper line. “We're married.”

CHAPTERTEN

Thea did not sleep,nor did she sew. After she signed the marriage license, Gil left her alone; he busied himself with completing the fine intricacies of the license. He worked on something else, too, and while she suspected it was a revision of his own passport, she never got a proper look, and he didn't ask her to sew it like she'd done for her own.

Even when Gil slept on the other side of the room, she didn't dare try to get up to look. He'd strapped his dagger back onto his thigh when she'd finished taking measurements, and somehow, he felt more dangerous now than ever before.

Why did he think it was funny? Why had he teased her? And Light above, why had he smiled at her that way? Like a cat in the cream, licking his whiskers in satisfaction. Like a spider who'd caught a lacy-winged moth.

Or an assassin who'd stolen a bride.

She squeezed her eyes shut. It was a lie. A forgery. Nothing real. Yet she'd caught him looking at her afterward, too, a shadowed and speculative light in his illusion-covered eyes. Acting, he'd said. Just how well did he expect her to play the part?

Not too well, she decided.

He kept to his own bed.

Thea set her jaw and covered her face with both hands. Light's mercy, why did that even cross her mind? They'd traveled together more than a dozen days, all hours of the day and night, and he'd scarcely touched her, save to help. He spoke to her kindly, considerately. She'd even go so far as to call him a friend. Yet a budding friendship felt little like protection. If anything, it tangled her up more. Because for one fleeting moment, she'd considered the thought of being married to Gil and decided it wouldn't be that bad.

Murder of the king and all.

And why should it be bad? She stared at the ceiling in the dark and bit back a laugh, lest she wake him with her bitter musings. He'd been decent. He'd offered to help her, to save her, when his plan went wrong. He'd shared secrets, small as they'd been. And even when she considered the treacherous act that had forced them together, it was hard to consider it terrible when Gaius had been a terrible king.

Whatever truth and mystery could lay behind Gil's quest swirled through her thoughts with all manner of confusion until near dawn, and she still had not slept.

“You're angry at me,” Gil said as the first sliver of light showed in the sky beyond their window.

She startled. He hadn't moved, hadn't opened his eyes. He did when she didn't answer, and their soft gray startled her more. When had he removed his cloak? She must have fallen asleep at some point, then. At least for a while. She'd never heard him move.

“No,” she said at last, when it became clear he desired an answer.

“Perhaps not angry, then. Unhappy.” He searched her face, his eyes thoughtful, gentle. How could he lay there and be so calm?

Thea pushed herself upright and scrubbed her eyes with the side of her hand. They burned, but there was little to be done for it. Today, they would climb the mountains to cross into Ranor. “What you did was a dirty surprise. You could have told me your plan at any point, and you didn't.”

He studied her for a time, but did not rise. When he spoke, he sounded resigned. “My plan is to take you somewhere safe and hope it serves as penance for how I've wronged you. How I was going to do that didn't come to me until I gained access to that office in the middle of the city and saw the marriage licenses were on a sort of paper I could obtain locally and without fuss. Originally, I'd hoped to find what sort of documentation might be used to prove Ranorsh heritage.”

“You're lying,” she said.

The way his smile twisted told her she was right.

She scowled.

“Imagine, if you would, what your face might have been like if I told you we had to be married. You would have fought me tooth and nail. Even knowing it's all a sham.” He shifted on his side, propping an elbow against his pillow and resting his head against his fist. “We've been traveling together for some time now, and I'd begun to suspect something.”

She couldn't fathom what. “That I can't escape without you, and that gives you the authority to do whatever you please?”

“That you're the sort of person who crumbles under pressure. All the fight goes out of you. You give up before you try.”

Thea opened her mouth to protest, but the observation cut so deep that she stopped to check the wound to her spirit first. She did crumble. She'd hardly fought when he first told her to run, when he told her to flee alongside him, when he'd decided she would make his illusions. It was no different than any other part of her life. She'd crumbled when her father gave orders that broke her heart. When clients demanded work for which they hadn't paid. When Ashvin had been taken away.

Gil continued before she thought of what to say. “Part of what I do involves learning how to manipulate people. You're free to think of me what you will because of it. But in this case, testing that suspicion was important for two reasons. For one, it allows us to continue with what I've promised will be done. And it confirms what I suspected, so that we can address that and ensure that no one will manipulate you ever again.”

She knew he probably meant it to be reassuring. Instead, it pricked at her like a hundred pins and needles. “Well, maybe I'll address it now and refuse to help you any longer. You've got your cloak and I've got my passport and papers. We can go our separate ways.”

“I don't think that's likely.”

Her hands curled to fists in the blanket. “Why not?”

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