Page 47 of The Barbarian King's Assassin (Magic and Kings 1)

“I don’t know. But I’m not jumping to impossible conclusions.”

“Because you refuse to believe in magic.” For some reason his gaze dropped to my hand still clutching the sword.

Was he going to make a fuss about me using it? I lifted my chin. “I borrowed your blade to defend myself. Here. Take it back.” While reluctant, I held it out.

He shook his head. “Keep it. You’ll need it more than me. Besides, it wouldn’t have come to your grip if it didn’t want to belong.”

A strange statement to make.

“I’ll need a sheathe or a scarf so I can sling it.” I wasn’t about to refuse the offer. The sword did feel like mine.

Konstantin only had to turn his head and look at Broon for the man to say, “On it.” Broon left.

One gone. Now to deal with the others. Including the barbarian. “I see it has yet to occur to any of you that whatever did happen in this room was targeting your king.”

“It went after you,” Joor pointed out.

“Only because I was the one here. I will wager everything it expected the king to be sleeping here.”

“His Majesty was sleeping in the hall, though.” Joor offered the surprising reply.

Wait, the hall? Why had Konstantin not taken another room? “Whoever came looking for him didn’t know that and expected him to be in that bed.” I pointed.

“Only he wasn’t because you kicked him out.” Hoolia snickered, to which Droga shout-whispered, “Ain’t no woman ever done that before.”

I snapped my fingers. “Pay attention. I know it’s not easy with your pea-sized frozen brains.” Because everyone knew the west was an icy wasteland.

“Did she just call us dumb?” Joor gaped at me.

I sighed then put two fingers in my mouth and whistled. They focused on me. “Someone tried to kill your king, and they might still be out there!”

“You saying we should go looking for them?” Joor pursed his lips and looked to his king.

“It’s more likely the plumbing exploded.” Konstantin suddenly offered the most plausible explanation.

“I should have thought of that,” I murmured.

A much better scenario than one with mud golems. A modern city girl didn’t believe in fairy tales. Jrijori had tried to convince me they were real when I was younger, but I knew better. Every monster story I chased turned out to be coincidence mixed with superstitious nonsense. Like the witch supposedly poisoning the town with her cheese. Once I went after her because the town offered a reward, I happened to notice her cow liked to drink from a pond with a creamy yellow layer of scum. That was probably what tainted the milk. The woman was only guilty of selling it, despite knowing it glowed in the dark.

“Back to bed. Get out,” Konstantin ordered his people.

They didn’t listen very well, so I uttered another shrill whistle. In the silence that followed, I barked, “Out. There’s too many of you in here. You’re making it hard to breathe.”

“Big voice for a little body,” Droga grumbled.

But they listened. The giants filtered out until it was just me and Konstantin in a room suddenly more cramped than before.

“You can have the room,” I muttered. Only right since I found myself wide-awake.

“No.” A flat reply to my offer.

“I’m not sleeping anymore tonight. No point since it’s only two hours until dawn. I’ll get some exercise in before we leave.” It would work out the kinks from riding, and I could play with my new sword.

“Make it quick. We’ll be leaving momentarily.”

“Not going back to bed?”

“With everyone already up, might as well leave early.”