Page 48 of The Barbarian King's Assassin (Magic and Kings 1)

As if it would be that quick or easy. Having worked with mercenaries almost my whole life, I’d come to expect a certain amount of dicking around.

I dressed. My boots were mostly dry, but my cloak remained damp, so I draped it over my arm. I held the sword since I had nowhere better yet to tuck it. Konstantin waited, his trunk under one arm, the saddlebags over his shoulder.

I spotted the scraps that used to wrap the sword. How had it come to me?

As we headed downstairs, I noticed the empty room. Were his men even out of bed? He headed for the door, and I followed to find the crew outside and ready. Every single one had their stuff packed and the horses saddled to go. Done without a single command by Konstantin.

Impressive.

Not one grumbled about having breakfast before leaving or giving them a minute to have a shit. I just wished we’d had time for my clothes to fully dry.

Broon thrust straps in my direction. “Couldn’t find a proper sheathe, but this will allow you to hang the blade either by your side or down your back. Easy access.”

It took some adjusting since it had been made for someone much larger. It felt good to have the sword secured down my back.

While I fiddled with it, the king secured his saddlebags over my mount from the day before and strapped the small chest to its rump. I eyed the daunting height of the mare. Should I ask for help or climb? Before I could decide, Konstantin lifted and deposited me, just not on the back of my horse.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re going to ride hard today so we can make it to my summer house before nightfall.”

“And you’re giving me your horse?” I asked too sweetly.

He swung up behind me on his stallion. “We’re riding together, and before you complain, it’s for your own good.”

“I know how to ride.”

“Not like this you don’t. Trust me.”

Two words.

Oddly, I did. A strange sensation. Part exhilaration, part fear. If he ruined this fragile trust, I’d gut him.

A whistle broke through the din of preparation. Everyone settled and eyed Konstantin.

“Ride hard. We sleep in the summer house tonight.”

A simple speech. His crew moved off, massive wraiths that disappeared into the night. When the town woke in the morning, we’d be gone.

As his horse moved in a slow canter that didn’t make much noise, Konstantin held the reins loosely to the side.

“You’ll need to turn around,” he stated.

“What?” I must have misunderstood.

“Turn around so you’re facing me. Legs over mine, face tucked to my chest. It will protect you.” He pulled out some goggles and placed them over his eyes.

I arched a brow. “Isn’t this a little extreme?”

“Trust me.”

Again, those two little words. “If you want me to hug you, just ask. Dagger in the back is optional.”

“Good luck stabbing me with my armor.”

“A good assassin aims for the cracks.”

“Less talk. More action. We’re almost to the edge of town.”