Prince and Assassin (Perilous Courts, #1)

by Tavia Lark

“Are you nervous about something?” Julien moves forward, enclosing Whisper with the scent of soap and coffee. “What gave it away? The rambling?” He touches Whisper’s chin. “I’m not used to waking up next to beautiful men. I usually chase them away before morning.” Whisper’s breath hitches. “Maybe I was just too tired to run.”

Julien doesn’t look angry at all. He leans closer until his arousal clearly presses against Whisper. Voice low and predatory, he asks, “Is it weird that watching you interrogate him was unbearably hot?” Whisper’s hand slides to Julien’s chest. “It’s a little weird, Your Highness.”

She seems surprised when, instead of snapping, Julien laughs. “If we’re being candid, I’ve been close to a wide variety of men, in far less convenient circumstances. I once jeopardized a trade deal by making the Fellrian ambassador late to his audience with my mother—two mornings in a row.”

Julien waits until she’s gone to drop his face into his hands. He isn’t suited to strategy like Audric is. He’s used to scheming, not leading. And he doesn’t want to admit to anyone—not Elinor or Nadine or Lucien—especially not himself—that he too has lingering doubts about Will Hadley.

Julien spins them around as the door slams closed, their bodies hitting the wood in an echoing thud. Cradling Will in his arms, Julien seizes his lips in a ravenous kiss. The way Will surges into him is intensely gratifying. His lips part immediately, welcoming Julien’s tongue, and Julien tastes a hint of ale. He could get drunk on kissing Will. He pulls back just enough to say, “Hi.”

“Not who wants to kidnap you?” “I’m not important,” Will says, his gaze lowering under crescents of golden lashes. He touches Julien’s forearm. Slides his hand into Julien’s. “They were just using me to get to you. You’re the one they want to hurt, and you’re the one I want to protect.” And Julien keeps ungratefully doubting him. Heart hurting, Julien squeezes his hand. “You’re very important.”

“I took this scar for you,” Whisper says. “That’s not a bad thing. I’ll never regret it.”

Julien’s mouth is hot and wet against his throat. Whisper buries his fingers in Julien’s thick hair, arching back— None of this hurts, but he’ll carry every moment forever. Bruised into his soul, never to heal. “Now,” Whisper says, desperate. “Fuck me now, please.”

“I said I was going to fuck you proper this time.” “What does that mean,” Whisper whines. “I can’t remember,” Julien says. “Slow. Thorough. Romantic. Rose petals on the bed. I was going to blow your mind.”

“I tried to resist you,” Julien says, his voice penetrating into Whisper’s soul. “I’ve wanted you since the day I first saw you, and the more I know you, the more I want you. Fuck, the sounds you make.”

“I never expected to see you here again. Are you hurt? Did His Highness order you here?” “No, and no,” Whisper answers. Dury waves the rag. “Are you sure? I can give you this rag, so you can bind off your grievous wound yourself. Or a bottle of whiskey to grimace over as you stitch your own severed arm back onto your shoulder.”

By the way.” Dury locks up all the cabinets again, giving Whisper a sidelong glance. “You’re probably fine since you’re so attached to His Highness and all. But be careful of Lord Gaspard.” “Why is that?” “Because he’s a creep,” Dury says. “And you’re too cute.”

The young woman notices Julien first. She bows and comes up with a dimpled smile. Very young—sixteen at the oldest, with mischievous eyes. “I assume you’re Will’s prince?” “I like you already,” Julien says. “Will, who’s this?”

This job is a little complicated.” She laughs. “How? You get in, do your thing, get out. Easy as always.” Easy as always. He’s done this five times before. Except for his other jobs, it was his skin on the line, not Hemlock’s. And he hadn’t fallen in love with his targets.

He can’t make a scalestone knife look like natural causes, and when Julien is murdered and Whisper disappears, everyone in Silaise will know who to blame: The purple-eyed stranger in the prince’s bed. This place is a fucking tinderbox, Julien said. One spark, and it’s going to ignite. Whisper’s the spark.

“Hey, kitten. What’s wrong?” “Just a bad dream,” Will says, soft as evening shadows. “I can’t wake up from it.”

“Don’t stop.” But Julien has to stop. Will is about to cry, and something is very, very wrong. “I’m not fucking you when you don’t want it,” Julien says, more forcefully than he intended. “That’s not—” Will trembles, his eyes shock-wide. “I’m sorry. I want it. I’m sorry.” Bruises. Pain. Marks. Evidence. I wanted the marks. The proof that my failure had happened. The proof that the punishment had happened.

“They said you’re the weakest of your brothers. But I never had a chance, did I?” Julien’s grin is brutal. “I am the weakest. My brothers are just that good.”

Now that Julien’s left the room, everything hurts less. He’s just empty and numb. The only real sensation left is the aching sting at the join of his neck and shoulder, where Julien’s teeth dug into his skin.

The leather and iron null-collar looks too heavy around his neck, and the deep-bitten bruise in his shoulder has turned a brutal purple. “All right, first, who…” Julien frowns. Without turning around, he orders, “Give us the room.” Nadine clears her throat. “Respectfully, Your Highness, fuck you.”

Every hesitation. Every ebb and flow of reluctance and desire. The way he begged Julien to hurt him. To leave scars. If Whisper truly fell for him, knowing all along their days were numbered in blood… Julien’s eyes lower. Ignoring Nadine’s judgmental glare, he touches Whisper’s cheek. Brushes away the dirt, and says, “I made this difficult for you.” Whisper shudders. “If you apologize for me trying to kill you, I’m going to start crying.”

“He was lying,” Whisper says. “I found out tonight when Hemlock came to dispose of me. But I was stupid, and I trusted him, and—Julien, I’m sorry. I had to choose her.” “Of course.” Julien touches his pendant through his shirt. “I get it. I’d kill just about anyone to protect Bellamy.” If Whisper was the sort of person who would choose Julien over his little sister, Julien never would have fallen for him.

“Can you guess what I did when I realized she was planning to kill my father?” Whisper shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing,” Julien says, and Whisper goes still.

“Your Highness,” Nadine says, sounding tired and annoyed. “Are you done flirting with the assassin? Or spilling state secrets, or whatever you’re doing?”

“I’m just bragging about what an excellent judge of character I am. I knew you were suspicious, and in fact, just yesterday I asked Nadine to investigate you again. But I also knew you were a good person, so I fell in love with you anyway.”

Without hesitation, Whisper dives for his fallen dagger. His hand clasps around the hilt just as a blur of blue fur bursts from the castle door and flattens Gaspard to the ground. As Rumi snarls her ire, Julien and Fisk emerge from the garden gate behind her. Fisk’s eyes are focused on the floating phylactery overhead. “I think I can answer that,” Julien tells Gaspard. Then he turns his grin to Whisper. “Did you actually believe I was going to hide in my room while you had all the fun?”

Thorny roots pierce through the meat of his legs. They wrap around his bones, diving in and out of flesh, their rough surfaces slickening with blood. Gaspard struggles instinctively, and the roots tighten, pinning his legs to the ground.

“Your Highness.” Whisper offers the dagger hilt-first to Julien. “Take this.” Julien covers Whisper’s hand on the hilt, without taking the dagger. He touches Whisper’s cheek, and Whisper leans subtly into his palm. “Hey, kitten,” Julien says, and angles down to offer a kiss. He feels the moment Whisper’s reserve shatters, and the kiss in return is desperately sweet. Iron and earth. Salt and sky. Finally, Julien’s heart settles behind his ribs.

Fisk bumps his shoulder against Julien, then nuzzles his face against Whisper’s stomach with so much force that Whisper staggers back. Rumi sits behind Fisk, cleaning her paw with a large, raspy tongue. Tell the kitten I’m not speaking to him, but Fisk has forgiven him because Fisk is an idiot. She pauses. You are also an idiot. “Rumi’s giving you the silent treatment,” Julien says.

“How do I destroy this safely?” Julien asks. Whisper straightens up from Fisk. “You shouldn’t. You can use it to control me, even if you’ve never used blood magic before. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Ask me a question, and I’ll answer it truthfully.” Julien grins, though his heart hurts. “One, that’s very illegal in Silaise. Two, do I really need blood magic to get your obedience, kitten?”

“Use that to interrogate me. It will force me to tell the truth. Ask Dury to confirm how the spell works first, so you know I’m not fucking with you.” “Wait, why Nadine?” Julien asks. “I know I just refused to use it, but if anyone is going to illegally question you with the magic truth bottle, it should be me.” “You’re biased,” Whisper and Nadine say in unison.

Behind them, Nadine says, “First question, did I really hear him call you ‘kitten?’” Julien can’t control the grin spreading across his face.

Rising to his feet, Julien looks down at his cousin. “I could have died because I fell in love with him. Instead, I’m alive because he fell in love with me.”

“The blood magic means he’s not responsible for the assassinations under Silaisan law. The rest is his to tell, and I have a feeling I didn’t even scratch the surface. But I know what I need to know.” “Which is?” “He has the terrible taste to fall madly in love with you.” Nadine’s stern face softens. “And he’d rather die than hurt you again.”

When Whisper unfolds his cramped legs, Julien’s eyes blink open. He fixes Whisper with a gaze so piercing, Whisper doubts whether he was asleep at all. Voice raspy, Julien says, “You’re about to panic, aren’t you?”

How are you so calm?” “I’m not calm,” Julien says. “My cousin paid my lover to murder me, then tried to take him for himself. What man could be calm about that?”

“What token of mine were you planning on taking?” Julien asks. Another wave of guilt crashes cold through Whisper’s lungs. “Nothing.” Each word hurts. “Nothing was good enough, and I couldn’t forget you anyway.” “Fuck.” Julien reaches towards him. “And they call me a romantic.”

“I’m serious about needing a spy-master. But I’m also kind of making things up as an excuse to keep you here, so I can court you all over again.” Whisper stills. “I know you tried to kill me,” Julien muses. “But you hesitated. And you’re still just as clever, stubborn, and kind-hearted as you were the first time I fell in love with you.”

“You already know me. More than anyone else ever has.” He never dreamed this could be possible. He’s still not entirely convinced that it is. Julien knowing the truth of him—his true name and all it entails—and still wanting him? If it’s a dream, he doesn’t want to wake up. “I don’t deserve you,” Whisper says, voice breaking, “but I want you so much.”

Julien can’t tell whether Lucien actually thinks the technique will be useful against dragons, or whether he just thinks it’s cool.

“I received a letter today, too,” Julien says. “Oh?” “From my mother.” Julien tightens his embrace. “She gives us her blessing.” Whisper twists to look up at him, his disbelief clear. Julien presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Well. Her exact words were, ‘I suppose I can’t stop you, and better an assassin than that weaselly Pellerin boy.’”

Afterwards, they slump together on the bench, clothes pulled back into place but still hopelessly disheveled. Whisper cuddles into Julien’s side, and Julien slings an arm over his shoulders. “I’m so in love with you,” Julien says softly.

“I told him I don’t do seductions. He assured me it wasn’t, which is why I posed as a guard rather than a courtesan. I didn’t expect you to seduce me instead.” “I didn’t seduce you,” Julien says, feigning outrage. “I courted you.” “What’s the difference?” “Optics.”

“You.” Audric points at him with the hand holding the empty glass. “I leave you in Greenhaven for four months, and you’re fucking a Fellrian assassin?” Julien bursts into laughter. “Give me some credit! It only took me two months to fuck the assassin.”

“Come on, I handled it great. You wouldn’t have seduced anyone, so you’d probably be dead. Meanwhile, by fucking my assassin, I neutralized the threat, uncovered a conspiracy against the realm, strengthened the border, and found the love of my life.” Sipping his whiskey, Julien contemplates Audric’s expression. “Plus, the sex is amazing.”