Page 97 of The Barbarian King's Assassin (Magic and Kings 1)

“I’ve known many people in my lifetime. Can’t remember them all.”

“Would your memory be aided if I mentioned you had them killed?” I smiled as I said it. I knew how I appeared: petite, harmless. “I was there when your soldiers slit my mother’s throat. It’s why I killed them.”

His features tightened, and he finally dropped the pretense. “I see the rumors of your demise in that prison were false. Killed during a riot indeed.”

What? I’d not heard this story. Had Jrijori done something to hide my escape? Even more interesting. “So you do know who I am.”

“I do. But apparently you don’t. And we’re going to keep it that way. You should have stayed dead, Ilyana. Because I can’t afford to have your parentage discovered. It would ruin everything.”

My mouth opened to ask him what he meant, only an invisible shove to my chest sent me over the edge.

CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE

For the secondtime that month, I fell from much too high. Totally my own fault. I should have killed the grand vizier instead of chatting him up.

The cold water enveloped my plunging body, submerging me not only completely but deeply because of momentum. I lost all sense of direction. Up, down? It was all the same no matter where I looked. Water and bubbles everywhere. My lungs spasmed in my chest, screaming for air.

I need to find the surface.The wish pulsed inside me. Not a weapon that I could call to my aid, but wasn’t my desire to live a way of fighting back?

I could only hope I faced the right way as I stroked hard, my chest hurting. My need to breathe almost making me open my mouth. My head broke through the water into air, and I gulped it hungrily. I gasped as I bobbed along the current created by the waterfall. A glance back at the top of the castle parapet didn’t show anyone watching.

Would the grand vizier believe me dead? I hoped so. His expression when I showed up to kill him would be priceless. Although, before he died, I’d make him explain his cryptic words about my parentage.

I slogged ashore downstream from the city, wishing I had my sword or daggers. Stupid security stripping me of them. My encounter with the grand vizier would have ended differently if I’d had a knife.

Or maybe not. I’d thought him harmless, weak looking. In my defense, I didn’t expect a magical shove. Konstantin had warned me. Told me of the grand vizier’s power.

I wouldn’t be taken unaware again. I’d be on my guard once I got back to the castle, which was now far away. Even though I’d washed ashore, with the road mere paces away, the trek on foot, up the hill to return, would take me a good hour or more. A miserable hour in soaking-wet clothes.

I grimaced at my dripping frame. Maybe I shouldn’t rush. Jrijori currently watched the king, who flirted with the Zariina, and I had a few hours until dinner. Time enough to dry out a little—and stew.

With a little scouting, I found a rock flat enough and big enough to handle me lying down. It felt nice to rest and plot the murder of the grand vizier, a murder I’d do for free because he’d made it personal.

I’d begun outlining the basics to my plan when the gallop of hooves warned me I had company. I leaned up and watched a familiar rider pounding toward me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Joor.

“Hoolia and I saw you jump.”

“I didn’t jump. I was pushed!”

“By who? Tell me and we’ll beat them to a pulp.” Joor slammed a fist into his open palm.

“I’ll do that myself, thank you.” I shoved to my feet, grimacing as my damp clothes showed little improvement.

“Good thing I saw you fall. Figured since the king wasn’t around to rescue you, I’d better come find you.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t care. The king is making nice with his bride-to-be.” Sour as the bile in my stomach at the reminder.

A disparaging sound emerged from Joor. “She can bat those lashes all she wants. King ain’t fooled. You’re the only one he wants in his bed.”

“Says you.”

“Says the way he acts with you.”

“You didn’t see him with her. He was courteous and charming.” I scowled.

“Which is his public face. As fake as that bulge in Broon’s pants.”