Page 31 of A Broken Promise

ASSASSIN

16

“You look rather wrecked.”

I sharply opened my eyes to a curvy female figure standing directly above me. Any previous resemblance of sleep quickly abandoned me. She took a few steps back until her back leaned against a small water ivy across from me.

“I don’t know what rathole you’ve come from but considering the damage...” She scanned my exposed body covered in large bruises and burns. “I am guessing you weren’t here for a great swimming lesson, were you now?” She sneered, though her voice was sultry and low. Her eyes wandered off to my still wet dress.

“No, I wasn’t,” I replied, quickly getting up to my feet. I grabbed my soaking dress and started pulling it back on my body.

“Oh, for the cry of all holy.” A long sigh came out of her. “Here.” She pulled a silky tunic out of her bag and threw it at me. “Are you a slave?” she asked with intrigue.

I held the fine fabric and looked cautiously at her. She was drop dead gorgeous. Her features were attractive; dark, tanned skin perfectly smooth without a single imperfection. Her black, thick lashes long and curly. Her full, round lips soft pink. A thick, long braid dropping down to her navel, with just a few strands of large chestnut curlsfree. She was dressed in extremely well-fitted brown leathers, extenuating her flawless, hourglass shape and rich curves.

She was striking.

“If you stare too much your eyes will fall out,” she snarkily replied. I couldn’t quite get where her accent was from; it was unlike any other I had heard before. Every word from her sounded like music, a sensual melody. “I asked, are you a slave?” she repeated, raising a perfectly trimmed brow in question.

“Not anymore.” A calculated risk.

I pulled on her dry tunic over my body.

“Rock Quarriers or Royals?” she asked, tilting her head just a bit.

“Does it really matter?” I said, shaking off the sand in my hair, taking a quick look at my surroundings. My head throbbed with a lingering headache, mind in a fog as if someone was roughly shuffling between my thoughts, my memories, my feelings.

I needed food and proper rest.

I needed a plan.

“Thanks for the tunic, but I have to go.” I gathered my wet boots in my hand and took a few steps, not failing to notice the well-hidden, elongated daggers strapped to her thighs and short knives at her hips. She was armed to the teeth, yet each piece of armory was almost undetectable, sheaths smoothly woven into the leathers.

It was time for me to go.

“You are not going to get far in these lands, Freckles.”

I watched her hand caress the dagger’s hilt, though her eyes were still on me.

“So, what do you suggest I do?” I was aware of the clear display of my desperation.

“You could come with me,” she offered, straightening up and throwing her braid behind her. “I am in dire need of a servant girl.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, clenching the wet boots tighter to my body.

“So, trade one slavery for another? And who am I to trust a stranger deep in theseRoyal lands?”

She wholeheartedly laughed. Her laugh was rich and seamless.

“Smart. I like you, girl. You can stay with me for the night and then leave if you wish. But if you do end up wanting to work for me, I would pay you.” The stranger walked past me, giving me a teasing glance.

Half-naked, hurt, and hungry, I didn’t have many options. And whoever she was, she clearly knew that.

“Fine. But only one night,” I replied with a sigh. No longer a slave, yet still chained by my circumstances.

She loudly clicked her tongue and grinned with her perfect white teeth.

“Deal.”

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