Page 55 of The Assassin's Dancer
My heart settles.
For once, I’m not scared of the dark. It feels safe, warm. It reminds me of dark leather, dark hair, dark green eyes.
My breathing steadies to a more relaxed pace.
And then, before I can even think about giving my body the sleep it desperately needs, I’m leaping up from my sheets and throwing on my travelling gown.
20
KASIMIR
My townhouse kitchen is silent except for the scrape of the whetstone as I drag it across my blade, over and over again. It’s sharp already – has been sharp since night crept in through the windows and I had to light a candle to see – but I don’t care. I have to be doing something. Because if I’m not sharpening my blades, I’m fantasising about dragging them through the heart of that golden-haired prince.
Orion.
Fucking Orion and his sparkly shoe buckles.
Why did she smile at him like that? I’m fond of ballet too. Or did she think my reaction after watching her perform at the tavern was not obvious enough?
It took every ounce of self-control not to whisk her away after that dance: to throw her over my shoulder, strip off that white tempting slip of a gown and claim her against the wall behind the tavern.
But she deserves more than that. A princess like Amaryllis deserves to be worshipped. I’d take her by candlelight with her legs spread bare across silk sheets, and I’d be gentle too – the first time, filling her tight entrance just enough to hear her moan.Those fucking moans.And then?—
“Stop thinking about her.” A low voice yanks me from my thoughts.
Turning, I see Meera leaning against the wooden countertop. She’s scowling, arms folded over her black tunic while her hair’s been pulled back into a messy bun on top of her head.
Normally, I’d be happy to see her. Any other night, I’d pour out some whiskies and the two of us would share a drink, but not right now. Not when my head’s a jealous mess and her sharp, judgemental eyes tell me she can see all the nasty thoughts in my mind.
“I’m not thinking about her,” I grunt.
Meera laughs, throwing her head back. “Don’t lie to me. You’ve been quiet ever since she left, and it’s not just that, you’ve,” she scrunches her nose, waving her hand in my direction, “you’ve been acting weird. Like you’ve gone all broody. It’s not a good look for you, Kaz.” Her coal eyes burn on the dagger in my hand. “And this is the third time since dinner you’ve been in here sharpening that thing. Please tell me you’re not thinking of using that on a certain new prince?”
I sniff out a laugh. I’d told Meera about the carriage incident after returning from the palace.
She’d clapped her hands and called Orion’s arrival a blessing in disguise. But I could think of a few other ways to describe the posh twat. Devil in disguise, for starters.
“Stop it, Kaz,” she sighs. “Enough is enough. That girl is bad news.”
“I know, damn it, I know.” My blade hits the floor. “That’s why she’s in the palace and I’m in here, alone and perfectly happy. Or at least I was, until you came in.”
Meera’s lips flatten. But before she can reply, we both flinch at the sound of a knock on the front door.
“I’ll get it,” she huffs, marching out of the kitchen.
There’s silence for a brief moment, and I almost return to my blades. That’s until Meera’s exasperated shout echoes through the townhouse.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!”
Leaping out of my seat, I charge out of the kitchen.
But then I stop dead in the hallway.
“Ruby?”
Princess Amaryllis stands shivering on my doormat, her fingers knitting together as she grips the edges of her woollen cloak. Her face is pale, and she looks just like how she did when I first caught her running through Night Alley. Lost. Desperate. Afraid.
Tears form in her violet eyes as her stare meets mine.
