Page 38 of The Barbarian King's Assassin (Magic and Kings 1)

“I take it I’m not allowed to gut any of them?”

He didn’t reply to my query but posed one of his own. “Thirsty?” He held up his hand, and a servant jumped to serve. He handed over the first filled goblet to me and waved his hand when they would have poured another. He preferred the large tankard set in front of him.

To drink or not? Did I dare get even slightly intoxicated amidst this group? I didn’t know yet if I trusted any of them. Was his offer of paying me to be his protector legitimate or a ruse?

“Who taught you to fight?” He tossed the seemingly random question at me.

“I’ve had many teachers. The bullies in the city I grew up being my first.” People often thought only the boys resorted to fisticuffs. The girls could be more devious. We also faced more kinds of threats. If your family couldn’t afford its own guards, then you had to learn to defend yourself, especially from the taunts that tried to name me bastard. My parents were married, and I was their daughter, even if I resembled neither.

“How many have you killed?” he asked, starting to lean back and catching himself in a jerk as he suddenly realized these were benches, not chairs. He shifted and leaned his forearms on the table instead.

“How many have you taken out?” I countered.

“Too many.” A bleak reply.

“Same.” I lifted my wine glass. “To not keeping count.”

It took him a moment before he clanked his tankard with my glass. We sipped, and I almost choked as a giant chose to collapse onto the bench beside me. Had I been on the edge, I might have flown off. I certainly bobbled until the vibration of the seat leveled off.

“What are we toasting, eh?” asked the red-headed giant with the same tight-shaved head and beard as his king.

Konstantin waved his mug. “Joor, you just missed a drink to not counting how many we’ve dispatched to the Void.”

“I would have drunk to that.” Joor scowled and cradled his mug.

I held up my glass. “I say we toast again. Hail to my fellow non-counter of killings.”

The widest grin split Joor’s face. “I like her, Majesty. She’s funny.”

“She’s not entertaining. She’s an assassin,” Konstantin corrected.

The giant actually giggled. “This cute, tiny thing?”

My dagger poked him in a most uncomfortable spot. “Would you believe it if I said I like knives?”

Joor swung an arm around me and hugged me. I would have knifed him in the spot his arm joined his body, and yet, he was quite harmless if I ignored the powerful stench of him. “I do like this one, Majesty. So will the others. Awoooooo-ga!” Joor bellowed, drawing the attention of the horde.

They might not like seeing me threatening their fellow soldier. Since I wasn’t actually going to castrate him, I put my knife away. Just in time, as more giants joined us.

Joor took to introducing them. “That fellow with the ugly mustache”—a luxurious pelt on an upper lip that curled on the ends—“is Broon. That’s Hoolia. She steals food so don’t let her sit next to you.” Hoolia offered a rude gesture as she took a spot on the end beside Droga, who curled an arm around the bowl set in front of him.

One by one, I met the king’s closest soldiers. Eleven in total. It hardly seemed enough for a man with so much power. If he were to die, it would be the catalyst to a cascade of events.

Konstantin leaned forward. “You are too serious. Why?”

“Where is the rest of your army? You can’t tell me you came all this way with so few.”

“A threat that requires the backing of an army is one that should be avoided. And it is easier to move quickly with a small group on rapid mounts.”

“That’s if you need to be strategic. Your engagement announcement on neutral grounds was about your image.” I waved to the group. “What does this say when the emperor sends four times this many with his daughter?”

“That he worries people hate him.”

I wanted to argue; however, that was amusingly true. “Explain then the sultan who is well liked yet even he came with twice the number you did.”

“And they weren’t even worth two of my people. After all, it’s not how many that count but their worth in battle. Joor can handle three opponents on his own. Hoolia, four.”

“I saw you take on six.” It didn’t take much stretch of my imagination to realize he valued quality over quantity. “Are these your best warriors?”