Page 45 of The Barbarian King's Assassin (Magic and Kings 1)
I turned away lest he see the direction of my thoughts. “We need a more formal contract than just your word. I also require a deposit.”
“Done.”
“And private time to myself every day.”
“Once we reach my summer home—”
I waved a hand. “No, starting tonight. This inn is secure for the night.” He’d rented it out entirely again. We had two giants sleeping on the main level. The rest on this floor. “I want to sleep alone.”
“Promise you won’t leave.”
Why did he care? “I promise to not leave without speaking to you first.”
“How do I know your word is binding?”
My lips curved. “You don’t.”
He stared at me. “Very well. You may have the room.”
He didn’t argue. Didn’t flirt. Or even ask to stay. Just left.
I had the bed to myself. It was much too big. I tossed and turned before finally dropping into a fitful slumber.
The faintest of scuffs woke me. I lay still and listened. No breathing marred the silence, and yet I could sense movement in the room. The softest disturbance of air.
My first thought? Konstantin. He’d lied and planned to crawl into bed with me after all. How, though? I’d dropped the bar into place.
He must have found a secret way in. I’d show him why he shouldn’t be sneaky. I cast out my senses trying to gauge where he was in the room, only to be hit by a foul smell that wasn’t that of the Barbarian King.
I rolled just as something thudded into the bed.
CHAPTERTWELVE
The dark roomleft me at a disadvantage. The only weak light came from the window, which was to say a light rectangular shadow amidst the pitch black.
I had to rely on instinct alone. It made those lessons in the cellar with the hatch shut, which Jrijori had insisted on, more valuable than I’d appreciated at the time. I’d healed through many a bruise before I learned to trust myself.
Those lessons were ingrained now. so when my body wanted to shimmy left, it went left. Duck. I dropped down and felt the slight breeze as something swung and missed.
The knife I’d gone to bed with became an extension of my arm. I swung it and cursed softly as it got stuck.
It wrenched free, but my assailant didn’t cry out. I slammed the blade forward again. It sank to the hilt and stuck once more. I wiggled it, wondering what I fought that didn’t make a sound, not even a whimper even as it emitted a foul stench.
I hadn’t counted on there being more than one attacker. A blow from behind knocked me forward, and I lost my grip on the dagger as I staggered into the other thing. Thing being the only word that could apply to the putridness.
I flailed in a panic as it tried to hug me. I wiggled free, mostly because it appeared covered in slick slime. I shoved it, and it stumbled, crashing and causing noise. Its partner bumped into me, and I reeled sharply backwards.
I’d lost my knife, which left me with no real defense. If only I had a weapon. I flexed my fingers, wishing for a sword. Thought of the sword I should have kept.
Suddenly there was one in my hand. The hilt fit as if it belonged, and when I swung, there was a squeal and a spark, as if my blow had struck flint.
Distantly, I heard a bellow and a rattling at the door, which I’d barred after Konstantin left. I blocked that noise and sought rather the whisper of movement near me.
There, coming in low to the side. I dropped and spun, whirling the sword I’d somehow found. There was a grunt and then a high-pitched, whistling scream. I kept slashing, feeling no resistance to my strokes and yet hearing the dying wails of whatever I kept hitting.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The door slammed open, bringing with it light and a barbarian with a wild gleam in his eyes.