Page 91 of The Barbarian King's Assassin (Magic and Kings 1)
“You don’t have a choice, Mama.”
She leaned forward and hissed, “Can’t marry that emperor’s spawn if she’s dead.”
“Don’t be so hasty.” Jrijori was the one to interrupt. “Think it through. What if your son did marry the emperor’s daughter?”
“He’d be miserable,” Seela declared, her pronouncement apparently a foregone conclusion in her mind.
“He’d be the most powerful man in the land,” Jrijori corrected. “Once he’s wed to her, if the emperor were to suddenly die, the zariina, as the only viable heir, would inherit the throne.”
“But Konstantin will be the one actually ruling,” I finished. “Brilliant.”
“Ifshe inherits. The grand vizier will hardly allow it to happen,” Konstantin argued.
“Please.” I waved a hand. “We both know the grand vizier will most likely be dead before the emperor. Ideally, he is killed before or after the ceremony. Then you and your new wife will pay a visit to the emperor’s palace with a few of your horde for protection, of course. Once inside the palace, it shouldn’t be hard to get rid of the emperor.”
His mother stared at me. “Marry him off?”
“To inherit another throne,” I pointed out.
“What if the zariina’s sisters argue and try to claim it for themselves?”
I shrugged. “Killing people in the way is what I do.”
To which Konstantin said, “Ilyana is not killing anyone.”
“He wants to ruin my fun, just like my father.” I rolled my eyes.
He didn’t appreciate the comparison. “We could have plenty of fun if you’d agreed to my proposal.”
“What proposal?” His mother’s eyes widened.
“Don’t start with that again.” I wanted to hide under the table. His mother’s scrutiny was too much.
So Konstantin just had to make it worse. “I told her I’d call off the wedding for her.”
“Don’t you start with that again. I’ve told you before. Not interested. I’m your assassin and bodyguard. Only.” I rose and slashed my hands through the air.
“I want more.” He stood and towered over me. “I want you as my lover. To wake up with you wrapped around me. I want to make you smile because they’re rare and beautiful.” He spilled more than I’d ever heard him say.
I eyed his mug. “How much did you drink?”
“Not even a full tankard.” He frowned and swiveled to glare at his mother. “What did you do?”
His mother’s smug smile showcased her guilt.
I gaped. “You put something in his ale?”
“And if I did? I could tell he was hiding something from me. You both are,” she accused. “So I mixed in a little something to loosen the tongue.”
“He’s going to be so mad.”
“I am mad,” he stated, his brows beetling. “We’ve talked about this before, Mama. I don’t like it when you drug me.”
“Too bad. How else would I have known you liked her?”
He glanced at me. “I like her, but I don’t know if she likes me back.”
My lips parted at his honesty. I bit back my reply. I’d not drunk the ale and didn’t have to admit anything.