The Assassin’s Bride: A Fantasy Romance Tale (Artisan Magic Book 1)

Voices carried through the house. Thea recognized Gil’s, muted as it was. His voice was strong, the cadence of his speech comfortable. It always was. By comparison, Rilion sounded soft and uncertain, but that could have been because of the matters they discussed. Both men fell silent when she appeared in the doorway with the maid. Her dress made her self-conscious, though she knew the cut was flattering. The high-collared neck turned down like the coats in the outpost village, exposing a panel of gold silk that matched the trim on the sleeves. A band of gold ran around the waist, too, accentuating the shape of her hips.

Gil had changed clothing, too. The soft gray of his shirt made his eyes stand out, and if his hair was darker, it was only because it was still wet. She didn’t know how he’d found time to wash, but he was good at making her wonder. He offered her a slight smile.

“Yes,” Rilion said, indicating she’d interrupted their conversation. “Shall I retrieve it? I think you’ll find it humorous.”

Thea raised a brow, but Gil’s smile widened. “Please do,” he said.

The prince shook his head and waved a hand before he excused himself from the dining hall. That he hadn’t greeted her left Thea uncomfortable, but the way Gil inspected her from head to foot chased away her worries. He liked what he saw. She recognized it in his eyes.

“I have just finished explaining why you are here,” Gil said when his attention returned to her face. “He is displeased with my chivalry, but there’s nothing to be done or undone now. We shall discuss your residency over dinner.”

“And your mission?”

His smile faded. “After that. In private.”

Of course. She tried to smile back, but faltered. There was no point in trying to hide her disappointment. Somewhere along the line, she’d begun to assume he would eventually tell her everything. Now, standing in a guest house belonging to the Ranorsh royal family and waiting for the prince to return, she had no choice but to admit she still knew nothing of value. She’d been given a vague sense of what his mission entailed, knew he’d taken it upon himself to pursue it, but nothing beyond that. How foolish it had been to think she had earned knowledge.

“Look, see?” Prince Rilion said as he returned. “You can’t deny it’s funny.” He unfurled a piece of paper. A poster, Thea realized. A wanted poster.

Gil burst into laughter, a sound so deep and merry, it warmed her heart and spiraled her into dismay at the same time, for her face was the one emblazoned on the decree.

“So you see,” Rilion continued with a wry smile, “my confusion was well-founded.”

One more laugh, then Gil wiped his eye. “Ah, Light’s mercy. He thought I’d been bested,” he explained.

“How in all the One’s glory did they decide she was the assassin?” Rilion laughed too, though he turned the poster to examine it more closely now. He didn’t go so far as to hold it up beside her, but it was obvious he compared the illustration to Thea’s face.

Her cheeks burned. It made sense. This was why she’d run. But why was it only her? “He’s not mentioned at all?”

“Not a word.” The prince’s demeanor softened some as he tossed the poster onto the table. “They delivered it by hand, demanding my father turn her over if she appeared. At first, I thought it a ridiculous mistake, but when I went to Post…”

A quiver of uncertainty ran down Thea’s spine. She’d expected to be a wanted woman in Kentoria. That whoever had taken control of the country might be able to seize her from within Ranor’s borders had never crossed her mind. She’d thought she’d reached safety. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

“The image does her no justice.” Gil drew back a chair and motioned for her to sit. The maid had vanished, but a rattle on the other side of a small door at the far end of the room explained where she’d gone.

Thea crept forward to take the offered place. Rilion positioned himself at the head of the table, and Gil put himself between the two of them. She only sat when both men had.

“I agree.” Rilion flicked the end of the poster and it rolled itself up again. “Now, introduce us, will you?”

“Of course. This is Thea, my Threadmancer, whose illusions kept anyone from noticing my resemblance to my wanted poster.” Gil’s voice was thick with sarcasm. “According to her passport, her name is Theadora Emroth. Thea, this is Rilion, Third Prince of Ranor. But I suspect you already knew that.” He lifted his eyebrows as if to goad a reaction from her.

“Named after the hero,” she replied sarcastically, too.

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Rilion made a show of rolling his eyes. “They should have given that name to my eldest brother. As it stands, I think they’re expecting entirely too much from me.”

“But you are helping me,” Gil said. “That may be seen as heroic in time.”

Thea laced her hands together in her lap. “If I may, Your Highness, why are you helping him?”

Rilion rubbed his mouth. “Because I’m a fool. But truthfully, because we are friends.”

“I thought assassins didn’t have friends,” she intoned.

Gil shrugged. “To be fair, I’ve never actually agreed with your assessment that I am one.”

She narrowed her eyes at his pedantry.

“I don’t think that’s an argument you’re going to win,” Rilion said. “Everyone who has ever sat at my father’s table knows what you do. You’ve just never been caught at it, and all that means is that you’re very good.” He reached for his cup, then paused with a frown when he saw it was still empty.

“I am good at many things. There are just only so many places I can be at once, and that is why I am here now.” Gil leaned across the table to grab a dark bottle. Its cork had already been removed and stuck back in place, so it would be easy to pour when the time came. He pried it back out of the bottle and filled the prince’s cup.

“You’re not supposed to do that,” Rilion said.

“I’m not supposed to do many things. It’s never stopped me before.” Gil smirked, but grew serious as he filled Thea’s cup. He left his own empty. “But we’ve spent enough time on idle chatter. I am in need of a favor.”

“Another, you mean,” the prince grumbled.

The maid returned with a platter on either hand. She laid them both in the center of the table and busied herself with carving meat and filling plates.

Thea leaned forward to address her. “Could you bring a pitcher of water, please?” She tilted her head toward Gil’s empty cup.

The maid nodded and bustled back to the kitchen, where the cook still rattled dishes.

“Yes, another.” Gil did not look Thea’s way, but his hand brushed against her thigh beneath the table. She froze. He’d never dared touch her before—not like that. Her chest tightened and her heartbeat thumped in her ears.

Rilion made a show of leaning back in his chair. “As if I’ve not done enough for you already. What is it this time?”

“I promised Thea the opportunity to start over. An apology, if you will, for accidentally upending her life.” Gil’s mouth tightened. “She will need to be granted residency under her new name. I have promised to pay for a building to help her establish a new business here. A Threadmancer’s services will be useful to your people.”

The prince made a face. “You know my father doesn’t allow women to lease or purchase property. Backwards and rotten old man. The only way she can hold a building is if she inherited it.”

“Or if my husband buys it,” Thea said.

“You are married?” Rilion asked as he reached for his cup.

She nodded toward Gil. “We are, yes.”

The prince choked on his drink.

“Forged documents,” Gil said, so quickly he came across flustered. Perhaps he was. “In order to take her past the waypoints in the mountains more easily.”

Rilion gave him an incredulous frown.

Gil straightened as the maid returned and filled his cup with water. “Those documents should allow us to settle things. The building will be purchased in my name—my assumed name—and passed to her upon my supposed death.”

“Dying again, are we?” Rilion asked dryly.

For a moment, Gil appeared aggrieved. “Will you aid me with this or not?”

Thea spared a glance toward the rolled-up poster, then averted her eyes. Half of her wanted to see all that had been written. Did the people of Kentoria really think she’d defeated Gil? It made little sense. The guards had seen them fleeing together. The country was sure to be in turmoil, though, and she knew how easy it was for information to become tangled.

“Fine,” Rilion sighed, exasperated. He took his fork as the maid finished serving each of them and excused herself from the room. “Explain what you need, and I’ll make it happen. You’ve run out of favors, but this…” He trailed off, studying Thea with a speculative eye. He nodded. “I will do this.”

Relief washed over her, a greater comfort than the warm bath she’d just climbed from or the soft bed that still waited upstairs. Thea sank in her chair and pressed a hand to her chest. “Thank you, sincerely. I never imagined I’d be forced so far from home. Until we reached Danesse, I wasn’t sure there was any hope left.”

“It hardly seems fair to punish you for being caught in his scheming.” Rilion pointed at Gil with the end of his fork. “Regardless of your reason for being here, I see value in welcoming more artisan mages into the city. You may know this already, but it’s not uncommon for those with the talent to leave Ranor once they become proficient in their craft. I fear our economy is not as robust as others. Many seek greener pastures.”

“I doubt there are many places better for a Threadmancer,” Thea said. “I saw the number of sheep your country possesses, and the quality of their wool, as well. Kentoria favors larger livestock. Cattle and such. There’s not much of a market for wool spun from cattle, if that’s something that can be made at all.”

The prince chuckled and gave an understanding nod. He was not charmed or flattered, but he was receptive to her needs, and that was all that mattered.

They discussed her plans for a shop at length. They spoke of design and where she could source supplies, her intention to provide woolen fabric dyed in new colors not commonly available, the types of magic she considered her own specialties, and what would be forbidden. She wasn’t surprised to learn illusions were outlawed in Ranor, but Rilion said nothing about the illusions she’d made for herself, or those Gil would surely continue to wear.

Eventually, though, as she knew it would, conversation lulled, and there was no way to avoid what was left to come.

“Well,” Gil said at last. He’d been silent through much of her conversation with the prince, letting her take the lead, allowing her the space and authority to explain her needs and how she planned to make herself useful. “Now that we’ve established what you can do for Thea, I suppose we must discuss what you’ve done for me.”

Rilian had been cheerful for much of their chatter. Now his mouth drew down and he grew solemn. “Yes.”

Gil raised a hand in signal for him to wait, though it was unnecessary. The prince leaned back in his chair and gazed at Thea, his dark eyes once more shaded with supposition. “The manor’s maid will see you upstairs,” Gil said. “I shall see you in the morning.”

“Of course.” She met his gaze, her expression as guarded as his. Thoughts of his hand on her thigh stirred butterflies in her chest. Instead of enjoying them, she envisioned herself crushing each of them beneath a boot. The time for that was past. She offered the prince a curtsy and excused herself from the dining hall. The maid met her at the doorway and waved for her to follow. Together, they climbed the stairs to her room.

“I’ll bring breakfast to your room in the morning, milady, no need to get yourself out of bed,” the woman said as she opened the door. “Have you any requests?”

“None for breakfast,” Thea muttered. The unwanted clothing had been removed from her bed, but she spied her illusion-imbued garments folded alongside them. “I do have one request, and I admit it may be odd.”

“Oh, that makes me curious,” the maid laughed.

Thea mustered a smile. “This clothing is beautiful, but I admit I prefer my own. Everything I brought with me is filthy after travel, and the dress I brought is in need of repair. Could you show me where the washing is done? I’d like to help wash my things so they can dry overnight and I can deal with them tomorrow.” The maid’s eyebrows rose, so she added, “I don’t doubt your skill with domestics, but I’d feel better if I could be the one to wash my damaged dress. Just to be certain of what I’ll need to repair it.”

“You’re right, milady,” the woman said slowly. “A very odd request. But…” Her eyes flicked toward the curtained windows, considering.

“I don’t think it’ll take long, not with the two of us.” Thea didn’t know if cajoling would help, but the maid’s expression softened.

Eventually, the maid nodded. “All right. Let’s get your things, I’ll take you out back and we’ll scrub it up all fresh before it gets too late.”

Thea released her breath in a whoosh. “Thank you. I can’t say how much I appreciate it.” She hurried to retrieve her cut skirt and bodice while the maid collected the trousers, tunic, and undergarments she’d abandoned earlier. They exited the room together, but the maid turned a different way than before.

“I’ll take you out the back way, so we don’t disturb milord and His Highness,” she said. “Knowing how men are, they’ll be up half the night talking stratagems and whatnot.”

The notion of the two men arguing over plans and possibilities made Thea snort. “I don’t know if Gil’s that talkative.”

The maid cast her a curious look. “Is that so?”

Something about the woman’s tone was off. Thea didn’t know what or how, but it left her unsettled. “Perhaps with the prince, he would be. They do seem to be good friends.” Despite Gil’s assertion that he had none. He’d refuted her suggestion he might, as he’d refuted her insistence he was an assassin. Before, she’d thought he was just being difficult. Now, she couldn’t help wondering how much of what he’d said had been subtle misdirection.

Misdirection she’d clearly fallen for.

“Here we are,” the maid announced as she opened a door and chilly nighttime air flowed in. It was cold enough to make Thea shudder, but once they started scrubbing, the cool air would be a comfort and a relief.

Just outside the back of the house, there was a stone-walled well and a small cobblestone-paved workspace. A washtub sat upside down beside the well, and the well’s bucket sat on the ground beside it. The maid lit a lantern, turned over the tub, and dropped the bucket down the well. It hit the water with a smack a second or two later.

“The washing bat’s over there, leaned up against the wall,” the maid said.

Thea retrieved it as the other woman filled the tub with enough water to suit their needs. They dropped the clothing into the tub and took turns pummeling the dirt loose, though Thea took more care with the dress. That, she scrubbed between her hands, working the fabric against itself. She hadn’t touched the skirt again since she’d climbed from the river with Gil’s help, a part of their travels that now seemed long ago.

“Goodness, look at the dust,” the maid exclaimed. Even in the dark of night, the cloudy swirls of dirt that filled the water were obvious.

“Now you see why I wanted to wash things,” Thea said with a laugh. “We hardly stopped. Just long enough for me to sew travel clothes. My dress wasn’t well-suited to the task.” She fingered the tattered edge of the skirt, wistful.

“Well, if you’re half as good a seamstress as it sounds like you are, you’ll have it fixed up in no time.” The maid nodded to herself, then pointed to a rope line. “Here, let’s rinse and string them up. I’ll check in the morning and if they’re dry, I’ll bring them up with your breakfast.”

Thea wrung as much water from the garments as she could. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

“Always happy to help, milady. Sometimes folks hardly know how much they need it, but it’s always nice when one sees the truth of things.” A bit of a spark lit the woman’s eyes.

“I haven’t asked your name yet,” Thea said.

“Oh, begging your pardon, milady. I’m Inaley, though most visitors just call me Ina. You’re welcome to use either, of course. Are you ready to head back to your quarters? I’d be happy to take you, milady.”

“Thea, if you please.” She’d like that better; she was no one here, closer to the maid’s social station than that of the men inside. Or, that of the prince, at least. Surely Gil’s position as the crown’s assassin had given him some sort of rank, but Thea grudgingly admitted she didn’t know that, either.

“Of course.” Ina grinned at her, then tilted her head toward the door. “Let me stop by the kitchen to get some coals from Cook’s fire. We’ll warm your bed right up.”

Warm blankets sounded heavenly. “Thank you.” Thea savored the idea as she finished spreading the wet clothing across the lines. She didn’t want to dry her hands on her dress, so she shook them and rubbed her chilled hands together until they were no longer dripping.

Minutes dragged by and Ina did not return. Had she gone ahead to the room? Thea hadn’t realized she was meant to follow. She crept back through the doorway by which the maid had led her out, but the hall was dark, and she heard nothing. No rattle from the cook in the kitchen, and no whispering footsteps from the maid.

Thea retraced her steps through the hallways and up the stairs. The lights in her room were lit, though Ina wasn’t there. Farther down, light spilled from another door, open little more than a crack. Voices spilled along with it. Wary, Thea paced closer.

“I’ve done everything you asked, but I won’t do this.” That was Rilion; there was heat in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

Gil’s followed, but it was low, dangerous, again the voice of the assassin who had spirited her out of Samara and into the wilderness. “Then everything you’ve done has been fruitless. I will not be deterred. Not now, not when I am so close. I will continue to Angroth, with or without you.”

Angroth. The country lay to the north, just beyond the northern ridge of mountains that framed Ranor. Was that where Gil’s destination lay?

“You’ve been to Angroth,” Rilion snapped. “You’ve been to Lyrangroth, to Vahar, to Helmsor, to Havrek. When does it end, Gaius?”

The name hit her like a thousand pound weight. Thea’s stomach lurched and her stomach constricted.

No.

“It ends when he’s dead,” Gil said. “Or when I am.”

No.

“Then you’ll die alone.”

Shadows breaking across the light warned her of movement, but her feet were leaden and she could not make herself move.

The door opened wide and Rilion stepped into the hall. He scarcely glanced her way as he stormed past. Gil followed, drawing a breath to continue the argument, thunderheads unlike anything Thea had ever seen brewing in his eyes.

Until they fell on her.

He froze.

Thea stared. “Gaius,” she said. The name she’d so hated was no less bitter on her tongue as she looked upon him, her heart twisting in her chest.

She hoped he would correct her. Pause and explain whatever she’d misunderstood.

Instead, the storms in his eyes grew cool as winter wind, and a hard shield of neutrality shut his anger away. “Yes,” he replied, though his lip curled with disdain.

Her hand went to her chest, as if to catch the pieces as they shattered, but his words reduced her to dust.

“I am your king.”