Page 29 of The Assassin's Bride

“Did you want to be?” she asked before she caught herself. The moment he glanced her way with puzzlement in his eyes, she wished she could take the words back.

“To be what?”

What if she didn't like the answer? Then it was better to know now, she decided. Whatever comfort she felt in his presence didn't guarantee him a place in her life, and they were close to Ranor now—close to parting ways. She made herself straighten as she replied. “On the throne.”

“No,” Gil said, the single word a laugh of its own. He gave a rueful grin and shook his head. The simple, honest answer—and lack of hesitation—put her heart at ease. “I've never wanted anything to do with leadership or politics.”

“Your profession would say otherwise.” Thea couldn't resist a smile of her own as relief swept the tension from her shoulders.

“Well, it's not as if I chose it. The path I would take for myself would be different. Very different from this.”

She raised a brow, invitation for him to go on.

Instead of continuing, he spat a curse. An arrow whistled past his head.

“What's happening?” Thea cried as he caught her arm and spun her out of the way. She expected another arrow. Instead, a handful of brigands spilled from the brush that crowned a ridge.

Gil tore a dagger from its sheath and met them head on. The blade was tiny compared to the notched sword the leader carried, a difference that lulled the man into a false sense of security. He swung hard and Gil flowed beneath the blade like water, slashing at the back of his arm. The man howled as the dagger struck. Gil's fist plowed into his jaw a second later.

Before the man even hit the ground, Gil was on to the next, but the new opponent brought an axe down hard. It cracked against the edge of Gil's blade and sent the dagger flying. Gil had another in his hand by the time it landed in the dust at Thea's feet.

Its hilt was still warm when she closed her hand around it.

The second man hit the ground. Thea didn't see what Gil had done, only that he swept sideways to intercept the two brigands that remained. One launched himself at Gil while the other skirted just beyond his grasp.

Thea braced herself and held the dagger ready as memories of her brother flooded back.Feet apart,his voice rang in her thoughts.Don't let them take you down.

The man surged forward to grab her.

She hooked a foot behind his ankle and kicked back as she heaved her shoulder into his chest.

Another dagger flashed in Gil's other hand as he toppled his bandit. His shoulder hitched back, ready to throw.

Before he could, Thea's opponent hit the ground and she pinned the man with a knee on his chest, the dagger in her hand hovering at his throat.

Gil remained still, poised to strike. The brigands on the ground behind him rolled over and groaned, but neither seemed eager to attack again.

Emboldened by her small victory, Thea brushed the dagger's tip beneath her attacker's chin. “What do you want?”

The man's mouth moved without making a sound.

Metal rasped. Gil planted a boot on the back of the man in the dust before him and turned to glower at the others. The first had picked up his sword, but instead of swinging, he scuttled backwards.

“Not worth it anyway,” the leader sputtered as he retreated. “She ain't even pretty.”

Indignation surged white-hot in Thea's chest and she shot the man a glare. The distraction proved a mistake. The brigand beneath her shoved hard, spilling her to the dirt as he scrambled free.

Before he'd made it a step, Gil slid between them, daggers ready and a warning of danger in his illusion-brown eyes.

One of the men spat, but all four stumbled over the ridge. Only when the crash of their passage through the dry growth faded did Gil return his knives to their sheaths and turn to offer his hand.

Anger and shame made Thea's cheeks heat. She scowled and ignored the offer of assistance as she pushed herself up.

“You can fight,” he said as she dusted herself off. It wasn't quite a remark, but it wasn't a question, either. An observation touched with curiosity, she decided.

She smacked her thighs to shed dirt and crumbled leaves. “If I could fight, do you think I would have let you drag me out of Samara like you did?”

“There's a vast difference between fighting with a common highwayman and fighting someone like me. I think you were wise not to try it.”

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