Page 32 of The Barbarian King's Assassin (Magic and Kings 1)
The insult overrode my common sense.
I lunged with my knife. He dodged. I recovered and slashed again, only he wasn’t where I expected. By the time I pivoted to find him, he’d grabbed my wrist, squeezed it hard enough that I dropped my knife. Good thing he didn’t know about the other one or the fact Jrijori had trained me to be proficient with both hands. The other blade emerged and slashed, only he somehow ducked, twisted, and before I could recover, a blow to the head—
I woke, pasty mouthed and uncomfortable. Probably because I lay face down over a horse.
Kidnapped.
CHAPTERNINE
Despite my illustriouscareer as an assassin and mercenary, this would be the first time someone ever abducted me. I had to admit to being impressed.
I blinked to try and get a sense of what was happening and where I found myself.
I lay over the back of a horse, face and legs down. Not the most comfortable spot, but better than dead. While stiff, I felt no stabbing pain indicating any injury. I didn’t recognize the oversized garb on me. I tried to not focus on the fact I’d been vulnerable enough to be stripped and dressed. There was no soreness between the legs, also a big relief.
The horse was still, and I could see the ground littered with forest debris and spotty clumps of grass. I didn’t appear bound, so I could technically slide off the back of the horse, a very tall steed with shaggy hoofs just like the one slightly ahead of mine. I blinked at the big horsey butt in front of me. Only one country raised and rode these massive four-legged beasts.
Weztroga. The Barbarian King had taken me prisoner.
The tail in front of me twitched to the side. I averted my gaze before the shit show.
My glance landed upon the man who had managed to kidnap me. Konstantin knelt by a stream, uncaring he’d left me at his back. Rude. He obviously had no respect for my talent. I did some exercises to loosen my muscles. I wouldn’t get a better chance to kill him than while he remained distracted and thought me unconscious.
As I crept up on him, he tugged off his cloak and dropped it beside him. Next, his thick hauberk came off, making my task easier.
To my surprise, there was no need to scrounge the saddles for a weapon since the knife strapped to my calf remained in its sheath. It meant someone let me keep it because they had to have seen it when they changed my clothes.
But whom? The king? He better not have done anything to me.
I fisted the dagger and stalked closer, ogling as the shirt peeled to reveal a massive upper body. His muscles had muscles, bisected by scars, some old and white, others more recent and still pink. A man who’d seen battle.
I made it within a pace, arm lifted to strike, when he said, “You should have moved faster.”
He whirled and blocked my descending knife then countered with another forearm, knocking me back. I began slashing and kicking, trying to force an opening. He countered every move.
For a man his size, he moved fast. Faster than me. As quick maybe as Jrijori. I wouldn’t win in a straight-out battle.
I changed tactics. I let him land a blow and faked injury, faltering, giving a short, pained cry and dipping my knee.
A chivalrous barbarian, he held back.
I didn’t. I swept his ankles, knocked him over, and pounced. I straddled his upper chest, my knees pinning his arms, and held my knife poised at his throat.
He didn’t appear worried. He fixed me with those gray eyes of his. I felt a shiver. One I didn’t understand.
“Are you going to kill me, my little Yanna?”
“It’s Ilyana, and you’re worth a lot to me dead,” I reminded him and myself. Why did I not plunge the dagger?
“If I’m dead, we can’t have fun.” He waggled his brows.
I frowned. “I’m not interested in you in that way.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“You’re not my type.” A lie, because he totally was.
His low chuckle, which rumbled his chest, tickled me between the legs. “For an assassin, you are a bad liar.”