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soft hands. Hands that don’t work. Hands that don’t know a blade.” She leaned close to Margaret’s face and stared at her. “An assassin doesn’t care what is and isn’t genteel.”

The princess tugged her hands from Adelei’s grasp. “And when this assassin is gone? Would you have me return to my position with the rough hands of a… of a farmer?” Margaret picked at the tie at the base of her braid. Tears stung her eyes, and she stared at the floor so Adelei wouldn’t see.

“I don’t want to be a fighter.”

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder. “And I don’t want to be here. Sometimes, the Gods don’t care what we want, Your Highness, any more than assassins do. I’m not asking you to be a fighter, but you need to understand how to defend yourself and your kingdom.”

“Father handles that. Or Captain Fenton—”

Adelei whispered, “And when they are gone?”

The swift intake of air made her cough. “No, I refuse. This isn’t necessary.” Margaret strode to the door and as she reached it, a chair exploded into a dozen pieces of wood as it slammed into the wall beside her.

“One day, they won’t be around to protect you, Margaret. And if you don’t learn something, people will take advantage of you until there is nothing left of you to take advantage of.”

Margaret let the door close behind her. She made it to the third floor before the tears fell in earnest. Several servants nearby averted their glances, but the whispers moved down the hallway as she fled. Once in the safety of her room, the door securely shut and locked, she fell into her bed and cried.

I don’t have to be strong. I don’t.

Heavy footsteps sounded outside her room, too heavy for Master Adelei, and Margaret scrambled upright. Her eyes dashed around the room. She needed a weapon. Something. No swords awaited her in her bedchamber, nor daggers or knives. Oh Gods, please save me.

Whoever stood on the other side of her door jiggled the door handle, and Margaret covered her lips to muffle a scream. The handle shook again, and then an odd sound like a kitchen knife on a spoon. Margaret ran to her bathroom and leapt into her bathing tub.

If I stay here, maybe they won’t find me. She crouched down in the tub as silence reigned outside her bedchamber. Oh Gods, of course they’ll look here.

She stumbled out of the tub in her rush. Margaret raced to the bathing room door and put her back to the wall where she wouldn’t be seen. Her gaze landed on the stool near the tub, and Adelei’s words floated through her mind. Kick it at me so I stumble. Throw it at me. Wood in the face hurts.

Margaret dashed over to the stool and snatched it with both hands before returning to the door. Footsteps outside, quieter this time. As if they’re tiptoeing. Oh Gods, someone is trying to kill me. The shadow crossed the doorframe, and she held her breath. The person stepped away. Margaret exhaled, and they leapt through the door. Margaret’s stool hit the attacker straight in the face, and the person fell to their knees.

When she stopped running for the tub long enough to look back, it wasn’t an assassin who lay groaning on the ground, but Captain Fenton. “Oh, oh, oh. I’m sorry, Captain. I thought you were an attacker.”

The man wiped a streak of blood from his cheek as a second shadow fell across the floor. Master Adelei stepped around Michael and nodded. “He could have been. He still could be. Anyone in this castle could be your assassin. Don’t drop your guard because they’re down. Now is when you should be running.”

“No, not Captain Fenton. He’s been a family friend for years—”

“So was your father’s Grand Advisor, Goefrin.”

Margaret frowned, and Captain Fenton shook his head. “She doesn’t know, Master Adelei.”

Adelei swore.

“I don’t know what?” asked Margaret.

“Later,” said Adelei. She handed Captain Fenton a cloth, which he held to the cut on his face. “You did well to throw the chair in his face.”

“I thought he was an assassin.”

Captain Fenton stood and gave a quick salute to Master Adelei. To Margaret, he bowed before retreating from the bathing room. “I wanted you to think that because he could be. If you hear someone where they shouldn’t be, or you think you’re in danger, save yourself. Run. Defend yourself if you must.” Adelei picked up a piece of the broken chair. “I’m going to add some lessons to your day, Your Highness. Some weapons work with the captain.”

Margaret opened her mouth, but Adelei shook her head. “Nothing too heavy. You won’t wield a sword for a long while, but it will lay the groundwork for skills you may need later in life. Especially if war breaks out.”

A bubble of laughter escaped. “War? There hasn’t been a war here since I was a child. With the Boahim Senate, who would dare?”

The way the Amaskan looked at her, Margaret wished she could crawl into a hole somewhere and hide. It was Adelei’s are-you-really-that-stupid look, the same one Margaret’s tutors sometimes gave her, and she flushed under it. Chair pieces in hand, Adelei gave Margaret a short bow. “You will still meet with me for self-defense training. Anyone can be a killer, Your Highness.”

“No one can live that way. I can’t see shadows in every light in front of me. It’ll drive me insane.”

Adelei grinned, showing too much of her white teeth. “Now you understand more about Amaskans,” she said, and she was gone. Margaret squatted on the bathing room floor and wrapped her arms around her knees. She didn’t want to understand the Amaskan.

All I want is for things to go back to normal. Please.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Exhaustion was not a strong enough word for what Adelei felt as she folded her frame into the largest chair in the sitting room. Her legs stretched out closer to the fireplace as she leaned her head

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