Free The Virtuous Assassin by Charlotte Anne Page A

to her leg, she flung it across the room. The dagger slammed into Elric’s chest. He let out a small puff of air and collapsed on the floor.
    Cateline darted from the room and back down the stairs.
    Her heart thumped an uneven rhythm.
    If she was captured, she’d be tortured.
    If she was captured, her identity would be compromised.
    The chest! It was still in place. If they questioned her, at least she ’d be able to prove her reasons.
    What if there ’s no evidence?
    No. She couldn ’t afford to think like that.
    She sprinted down a corridor, heading towards the servants ’ stairs that would take her out of the residence hall. Just ahead, a door opened, and a man stepped forward. His hair was ruffled as if he’d just woken, and he wore nothing but a pair of tight breeches.
    Cateline was running too fast, and the momentum carried her forward even as she tried to stop. He snaked out an arm, wrapping it around her waist, and she shuddered to a halt against his chest.
    “ What are you running from?” he asked, his chin gently grazing the top of her head with each word.
    “ I . . .” Cateline pushed away from him, her hands on his bare chest. How could he not see what she’d done? There was blood on her tunic.
    His brow creased as he stared into her eyes. This close she could see him clearly. His hair was golden brown and cut short. Day-old stubble marked his face, while a scar cut through his eyebrow, causing his left eyelid to drag a little.
    Late twenties, Cateline guessed then took another step back as a new fear rushed through her. His power could not be concealed. He stood a head taller than her, his legs long and his arms thick with muscle.
    But when he spoke, his deep voice was mellow. “What are you so afraid of?”
    “ I b-broke curfew,” she stuttered, thinking fast. “N-now the soldiers are chasing me.” She only had one dagger left, and it was strapped to her ankle. She wouldn’t be able to reach it without him realising, and he would most certainly overpower her.
    “ Please,” she begged, lowering her eyes as if she really was a servant, “I won’t do it again. Just let me—”
    He grabbed her arm, twisting so her back was pressed against his chest, and clasped his other hand over her mouth. He was warm and sm elt a little of leather.
    “ Quiet,” he mouthed against her ear. “They’re coming.”
    She froze. Footsteps were definitely heading their way. Crashing against the wooden floor, it sounded as if a thousand men were after her and there was almost nothing she could do.
    She glanced at her ankle. She had to kill him. Cateline tightened, preparing to grab her dagger.
    “Here.” He pulled her into his room and kicked the door closed behind them, blocking out the rest of the world.
    She stood perfectly still against his ches t, as if she thought he’d give her up at any moment.
    He took a deep, shaky breath. Her body fitted perfectly against his own, her curves resting against his solid lines. His hand dropped an inch, grazing the sharp bone of her hip.
    Outside, the footsteps passed, fading into nothingness. “They’re gone,” he whispered and dropped his hand from her mouth.
    She scuttled away from him, turning her head from left to right, taking in their surroundings. Her long hair was beginning to come loose from its bun, and soft brown locks framed her face. He frowned. He hadn’t seen her before—he would have remembered such a beauty. Maybe she’d sought sanctuary from the war within the castle walls and had only recently been assigned to the serving staff.
    Her gaze paused on his sword, unsheathed at the end of his bed, and Josse quickly picked it up. Most women didn’t understand his need to sleep so close to his weapon, and he didn’t want to scare her any more than she already was. He bent to lean it against the wall, and pain stabbed his leg. He gasped, a hand jumping to his war wound.
    The girl startled, glancing from the door to his face.
    “It’s fine,” he