Page 96 of The Barbarian King's Assassin (Magic and Kings 1)

“I’m not jealous in the least,” I huffed.

“Of course, you aren’t,” he placated.

“It’s more I don’t see how he can listen to her. She’s so fake.I’m so sorry,” I mimed in a high-pitched voice. “I’ll be such agoodwife.” My grimace must have been a sight to see because Jrijori eyed the door then me.

“I’m thinking you need to take a break.”

“I’m fine. Just need to get rid of her.”

I must have had that look in my eye because Jrijori snapped his fingers in front of my face. “You can’t kill her, Ilyana.”

“I know.” The plan hinged on them being wed. I was being crazy. Konstantin had told me numerous times he’d never bed her, but given what had happened inside the room? The way he dismissed me?

I’d been a fool. Anger must have been the reason my eyes burned hot. Anything else wasn’t acceptable.

“You’re right. I need some air,” I said, my voice thicker than I liked.

“A good idea, I think. I’ll watch His Majesty.”

Something in the way he said it had me eyeing him. “Are you mad at him?”

His smile was much too placid as he said, “Nope. Why would I be mad? He’s done nothing to me.” But the king had upset me, and Jrijori wouldn’t allow that to pass.

I felt better knowing I’d come back and probably hear about how the Barbarian tripped over his own feet and smashed his face.

“I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

Before I could leave, Jrijori cleared his throat. “Ilyana, be careful.”

“No promises,” was my breezy reply.

I stalked off, seeking out the highest point of the old temple.

I found it in a parapet that spanned the entire length of the citadel and offered an incredible bird’s-eye view of the falls. High and yet not high enough to protect me from the misting spray. I stood there, letting it moisten my skin, but I wasn’t so far-gone in my relaxation that I didn’t hear someone approach.

“That’s far enough,” I stated without turning. I’d been disarmed upon entering the castle; everyone was. Our weapons were confiscated and kept in a vault by the main entrance.

Not that I worried. If I needed my sword, it would find me—or so I hoped.

A male voice, with a crack of age seasoning it, said,“No need to fear, child. Just here to admire the view.”

Child? I whirled to blast the misconception, only to find the words caught in my throat at the strange appearance of the man on the parapet with me, old enough to be wrinkled with his long, wispy hair and beard a pure white. He wore a pointed green hat with a fat, gold fabric rim. A robe of dark blue velvet stitched with silver stars and moons hung to his ankles. His gilded slippers poked from under the hem with pointed, curled toes.

Only one person dressed so ridiculously.

“You’re the grand vizier.” Almost an accusation.

“I am, child, but who are you?”

“Ilyana.” I said it and waited to see if he reacted.

He remained pensive. “You look very much like someone I used to know.” He cocked his head and squinted.

Only one reason he’d know me. “Did you know my parents? Belnya and Pietro Lejza.”

Only the slightest flare of his nostrils gave him away. The grand vizier smiled and lied. “Sorry. I’m not familiar with the names.”

But I’d seen him react. “Are you sure about that? We used to live in Moruum when I was a child.”