KINGSLAYER

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I cocked my head, regarding him through narrowed eyes for a moment. "I will be sure to secure you a front row seat when I crush your master and secure my throne. And once you see that everything you have strived for is pointless, I will put you out of your misery if I am feeling merciful."

"That fate is preferable to this."

At last, I decided not to grace that insult with a response, and instead looked back out the front to watch the scenery passing by. We were traveling down a quiet lane, lined with straight-trunked trees on either side. No other carriages had passed us by; the only sounds were birds chirping, the horses' hooves and the occasional clattering of stones under the wheels.

It was midday when the man began to slow the horses. At first, I assumed he wished to stop for lunch, but then he said in the Eastern Language, "One of the horses has a shoe loose. I apologize; this should only take a moment."

Once he hopped off the high seat, I caught Khan's eye. He was unbothered, visibly reveling in my unease.

Another moment passed and a strange feeling overtook me. It may have been the Gods or just my intuition, but I always trusted my instincts, especially when they were this powerful.

I stood, the crown of my head nearly bushing the cover of the carriage. "Get up. Now."

To my surprise, he obeyed without having to be threatened. I opened the back of the carriage. As soon as my feet hit the ground, my hands began to crave the feel of my swords' hilts. Khan stood beside me, looking much more at ease than I felt.

Suddenly desperate to find the man, I circled the carriage. He was nowhere to be found, not even ducked down near the horses. My heart began to race in sickening anticipation.

"Is something wrong?" I whirled to find him behind me, eyebrows raised. But he carried none of the necessary tools to secure a horseshoe.

From the start, I had known he was trouble—I had simply not known when he would make his move. Until now.

I made the grave mistake of taking a step back, preparing to draw a sword. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw a group of men gathering on the other side of the carriage, having slipped forth from the trees. A hand grasped at my nearly-healed arm, sending my heart into my throat. I twisted, but he held fast.

Using my spare hand to draw my sword, I sliced into his arm, the blade sinking below the flesh until he eventually loosened his grip.

Several more thieves grabbed at me, and I half-wondered what they wanted. We had barely any belongings. It was more likely they wished to sell us as servants to some rich merchant who stuck his nose up at the law.

I took a few more painful blows before gaining the space to draw a second sword. Swinging them through the air, they met the blades of my attackers with a clattering scrape. I had to flick them out and parry every one of the enemies' advances before they could wound me badly enough to hold me down.

As I spun to avoid being caught between two groups of enemies, I caught a view of Khan fighting off the thieves with his bare fists. Though it was only a second's glance, I could feel the raw physical power radiating off him. Perhaps I had the upper hand with weaponry, but he could certainly outfight me in hand-to-hand combat. I hoped he would apply those skills to destroying all our shared enemies and only that.