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

“I am late,” Gil announced.

The prince looked as if he might choke. “By the One, you’re alive!” He crossed the room in a rush and greeted Gil by clasping his arms. Relief made his shoulders go slack, but a moment later, his lip twisted. “What’s happened to your face?”

“I’ve been forced to admit that between the two of us, you are more handsome.”

Now it was Thea’s turn to choke. The statement was thick with the sarcasm of some long-running joke, but it fit with what she had heard. Prince Rilion’s looks were the whole reason she knew who he was. He was dark-eyed, dark-haired, and bore such strikingly attractive features that half the women in Kentoria fantasized about somehow finding themselves his royal match. Elia had gone through a phase of it; she was of distant relation to some royal on her mother’s side, and in her teenage years, she’d thought it possible. Thea kept her hand clamped firmly over her mouth to hide her smile. What her cousin wouldn’t give to be in this random Ranorsh cobbler’s shop now.

“I always knew you’d come around to it someday.” Rilion exhaled hard and raked his hands through the hair at his temples. “Light, how could you do this to me? Getting to that outpost was no small feat, and then when you didn’t arrive—”

Gil held up a hand to forestall him. “I don’t fault you for leaving. I only feared you’d try to take things into your own hands. We have need of shelter, somewhere to hide while I evaluate the situation and prepare for the next step. Are you able to host us?”

“We?” Rilion repeated. His eyes darted to Thea.

She didn’t know whether to bow or merely greet him, given the informal way he spoke with Gil. In the end, she gave an awkward curtsy and bowed her head.

“A Threadmancer,” Gil said. “I will tell you everything, but you know we have little time.”

Rilion straightened as if the title impressed him. “That explains your face. I can give you someplace to stay, but my father must not know. You’ll be restricted to one of the guest houses. One of my personal guards will escort you there, and I will join you after I’ve supplied a sufficient excuse for why I am not at dinner.” His mouth twisted with a caricature of a smile.

Gil snorted. “Be hasty, then.”

The prince stepped away, but not before sharing a rude gesture.

Gil waved a hand and moved to Thea’s side. Rilion gave orders to his men with just a flick of his fingers. One remained while the others fell in beside him on their way back to the palace.

“Now you see why trying to reach him at home was a poor idea,” Gil said dryly. He fished the last of his Ranorsh currency from his pocket and left it on the counter before he nodded to the one guard who remained.

Thea could have laughed at the absurdity of it all. “And you didn’t think to warn me?”

“The fewer people who know what we’re up to, the better.”

The guard led them from the cobbler’s shop and Gil closed the door securely as they left. His statement had not been posed threateningly, but it left her unsettled, so Thea remained silent as they followed the guard through the city’s streets.

A few curious people stopped to watch them pass, but no one lingered long. Thea worried their guard escort would draw unwanted attention, but the one leading them was not the only guard wandering the city. After she spotted two others speaking with people on the street and giving directions, she relaxed. Bothering members of the guard with something as menial as navigation was unthinkable in Kentoria; it gave the armored men here a softer image.

Eventually, they reached what she could only describe as a manor. The guest house sat in a yard ringed by a stone wall that wasn’t too tall to climb, though the gardens on the other side were pristine enough to indicate no one tried. The guard opened the wooden gate and ushered them through. The house itself was built of stone inside a frame of towering logs and boasted two and a half floors. The windows were dark, but a lamp of golden glass burned by the front doors. That it had two doors reminded Thea of the red granite palace in Samara. She’d only seen it twice; both times had ended with executions. A shudder ran down her spine unbidden.

The guard preceded them, but instead of opening the doors, he knocked.

A long, awkward silence dragged past before a maid answered.

“The prince’s guests,” the guard offered as explanation.

The maid smiled and opened a door wide. “An honor to host you, milord. Milady. Have you taken your meal?”

Gil stepped forward first. He walked with his hand on the hilt of a dagger. His cloak almost hid it. “No. His Highness intends to join us, but we are uncertain when. It would be rude to enjoy his hospitality without him.”

“Of course, milord.” The maid gave a tiny curtsy. “Will your escort be joining us?”

“I will await His Highness while the guests settle,” the guard replied.

Thea climbed the two steps to the door and found herself wishing she wore a skirt. The simple outfit she’d made for travel was hardly appropriate for dining with a prince. Rilion hadn’t seemed to notice their state of dress, though. Perhaps appearances meant little in matters of assassins and kings.

The manor’s furnishings were well-suited to entertaining noble guests. Rich tapestries and plush rugs decorated the space and antlers of various shapes crowned the walls. The furniture was all dark wood, the upholstery a deep gold. Thea couldn’t recall the last time she’d been anywhere that had upholstery. Her own family had given up such luxuries when her mother passed.

Gil scarcely looked around. “If I know Rilion, he’ll be late. Prepare a room for us.”

“Two rooms,” Thea corrected.

He glanced at her, startled, but wiped his face clean of expression an instant later. “Of course.”

“Two rooms,” the maid repeated pleasantly. “Shall I draw a bath?”

Thea’s heart leaped. “You have the facilities for that?” After weeks of travel, she couldn’t imagine anything better.

“Well, the house is too small for each guest’s quarters to have their own bath, but we have a nice central space for private ablutions.”

“I believe she would enjoy the comfort,” Gil said. “Show us where we may take our rest first, if you please. Then draw the lady her bath.”

The maid nodded and beckoned them with a hand. “This way, milord. Milady.” She slid through the house with a flowing grace.

Thea was all too happy to follow, her dusty travel clothing forgotten.

They trailed up the stairs, where the maid pointed them to separate rooms. She gave Thea long enough to deposit her bags and the sewing basket in her assigned quarters, then led the way to the private bath. A wide, square wooden basin sat in the center of the bath chamber. Beyond it, a merry fire crackled in a wide stone hearth. A black cauldron steamed above it.

“Do you always have bath water at the ready?” Thea asked.

“Oh, yes. We never know when the royal family will need to host guests. There’s always someone here, and the house is always ready to welcome visitors.” The maid smiled so her eyes crinkled. They were the same rich brown as Prince Rilion’s; the same brown she’d unknowingly given Gil. It was no wonder that man at the inn in Heartroot had believed Gil was Ranorsh.

“Well, I appreciate the foresight.” Thea slid her fingers through her hair and studied the shelves against the walls. Several held jars of oils and soaps. Others held herbs and flower petals. She picked one up and turned it to examine its contents through the glass. “Am I allowed to use these?”

The maid busied herself with scooping water from the cauldron into the bath. “Of course, milady. Shall I help wash your hair?”

Thea almost said yes. At the last moment, she remembered the illusions. Once her clothing came off, her hair would be red, and her trickery would be revealed. Rilion knew she was a Threadmancer, knew she’d created an illusion for Gil, but the fewer people who knew about her power, the better. “No, thank you. I can manage on my own. After being on the road for so long, I’d appreciate the time to soak and relax in private.”

“Of course, milady.” The maid curtsied and finished transferring the heated water, then readied a towel. She said nothing else.

After the maid departed, Thea checked the latch on the door. The lock was so flimsy she doubted it would keep anyone out. Her housemate was polite enough she had little concern about him walking in; she couldn’t picture him so much as trying. But the maid concerned her, so she locked it before undressing, all the same.

The reddish tones in her auburn hair had grown unfamiliar. She ran her fingers through her tresses as she regarded the water. It was not as hot as she might have preferred, but she had gone years without the luxury of a whole bathtub. Weeks without the luxury of soap had been bad enough. She contemplated that for a time, then selected several jars and bottles from the shelves. She had to make herself presentable for their company. Smelling pleasant was a good start. Yet as she sank into the water and opened each container to breathe its aroma, she found it wasn’t Prince Rilion who crowded her thoughts.

What sort of fragrance might Gil like? She thought something with spicy notes. Or maybe he’d prefer if she were as feminine as possible. Something sweet and floral, then. One of the bottles contained an oil scented with honeysuckle. She smelled it twice, then nodded. That would do. She’d perfume her hair with it when she’d washed, and then…

Her brow furrowed. Then what? They’d speak with Rilion, he’d make the necessary arrangements for Thea to stay in Danesse, and Gil would leave. In a few months’ time, he’d send documents rendering whatever persona he’d chosen in his passport deceased, and she would be alone.

That word hit her thoughts hard. Alone. Not free. Danesse no longer offered freedom, and she was no longer sure what freedom was. The ability to do as she pleased? She was losing that, too. Freedom wasn’t just choice any longer, she realized as she sank shoulder-deep into the wooden tub. Freedom was the way her heart fluttered when he’d kissed her, when his fingers tangled in her hair, when her soul was set alight by the soft sweetness of his words. She wouldn’t taste that—or him—again.

When Thea had washed, she reconsidered the honeysuckle oil. It was a foolish idea, the whims of a love-struck and naive girl. Yet they were still to meet Prince Rilion, and she still needed his help. Allowing herself some feminine charm could be beneficial.

As she dried her hair and begrudgingly donned her grubby travel clothes, she wondered if there had been any point. Perfume wouldn’t hide the dirt.

Her assigned guest room had been arranged to welcome her back. A tray of dried fruits with a pitcher of some sort of cider waited on the dark wood table, just in case she’d grown hungry. A variety of dresses lay on the bed, giving her pause.

“There ought to be something there to fit you,” the maid said as she bustled in with an armful of wood. A little fire burned in a narrow fireplace in the corner of the room, chasing the chill out of the air, and she left the wood beside it so the flames could be fed through the evening. “His Highness said milord and milady would look a good bit different after freshening up, so don’t worry. The prince keeps interesting company. We’re all used to it by now.”

Thea couldn’t help her thoughtful frown. “Is Prince Rilion here already?”

“Just arrived. Settling a horse for milord in the stable out back. He’ll be in to join the two of you before long. Shall I help with your hair?”

“Please.” She couldn’t fathom why Rilion would betray their illusions so readily, but she wouldn’t pretend to understand the machinations of royals or assassins.

The maid closed the door while Thea selected a dress. The green one drew her attention, but the color made her hesitate. It was similar to a shade she could accomplish with cocklebur, but who knew what had been used? The fabric she’d used for Gil’s cloak had been one she dyed herself, a mixture of crushed flowers and copperas.

“You’ve heard the stories too, have you?” the maid asked. “Don’t worry. Ranor has mountains aplenty, but we’re sparse on mining facilities. Our mountains are good for rock and not much else.”

Reassured, she shed her dusty clothing, grateful to have it back off her newly clean skin. “You believe the rumors about dyes making people ill, then?”

“Oh, it was all the gossip about Danesse. The king’s always refused to import textiles, saying it would be bad for the wool market here. He’s been looking to push exports instead, since Ranor’s artisans can prove our dyes are safe.” The maid took the dress from the bed and helped Thea into it. It buttoned up the back, an unfamiliar style and one obviously meant for noblewomen. She would have never been able to get into the dress on her own.

“Is there demand for brighter dyes in Danesse?” Those she had experience with were made primarily with plant-based components, though she’d tried her hand at a few blends using earth-based pigments.

“That, I couldn’t say. Working for the royal family, I already see the best there is to be had. There’s no shortage of bright colors in royal wardrobes, but I’m sure you know that.” After the last button was secured, the maid crossed to a small vanity where a polished silver mirror hung against the wall. She fetched a brush and ran her finger over the coarse boar bristles before she pulled back the vanity’s stool. “Come, sit. Don’t want to keep His Highness waiting.”

Thea doubted they’d wait for her. Rilion’s business with Gil had been delayed enough already.

The maid worked the tangles from her hair with a deft hand, then produced a bowl of pins from a drawer. She wove strands above Thea’s ears into braids and pinned them together at the back of her head, covering the meeting point with carefully positioned curls. “There. That’s suitable for dinner with a prince. Come, milady, I’ll show you to the dining hall. Cook will be ready for me to serve things by now.”

“Thank you.” At the height of her father’s success, Thea’s family had hired servants. Now, that seemed such a distant memory that she couldn’t recall how she was meant to reply. She checked her reflection once, then made herself follow the maid. Her bare face was far too plain. A hint of something on her cheeks or lips would not have been amiss, but there was nothing more to do.

Thea smoothed her hands down the front of the dress and steeled her resolve. She would meet with the prince and speak of her needs, and with fortune, the night would bring peace.