Free Assassin's Gambit: The Hearts and Thrones Series by Amy Raby Page B

And he had something on underneath—a mail shirt, which meant yet another layer below that.
    Remus climbed onto the bed, knelt beside her, and checked the knots that bound her wrists to the bedpost. “I don’t understand it,” he said. “I’ve seen dozens of beautiful young women like you throw themselves at Lucien. And for what? Gifts? Money?”
    “Dahatrian tea. Have you tasted the swill they brew outside the palace?”
    Remus gave her a withering look. He untied and retied the knots, yanking them tight until she winced. “You think it’s funny, joking about how cheap you are? Whore.”
    “And you’re such a paragon of virtue,” said Vitala.
    He chuckled. Satisfied with the knots on her wrists, he moved down and untied her ankles. She willed the riftstone to reveal itself on his neck, but it stayed hidden.
    He pushed back his syrtos and pulled down his leggings, displaying his cock with a flourish, as if he expected her to marvel at it. He lay atop her, covering her body with his own. “Kiss me,” he commanded.
    She obeyed, without enthusiasm.
    “Good girl,” he murmured. “Relax, and you might enjoy it.”
    She hissed in pain as he entered her. She had some residual wetness and swelling from her encounter with Lucien, but it wasn’t enough. Remus didn’t notice or care. He thrust into her, occasionally fondling her breasts or kissing her. She tried to ignore it.
Mild discomfort,
she told herself.
It’s mild discomfort, nothing more.
    She called a Shard into her right hand, maneuvered it into her fingertips, and angled its razor-sharp tip toward the rope that bound her wrist. Remus was oblivious. Though she had no leverage and couldn’t exert much force, the Shard separated the fibers of the rope like an oar parting water. Her bonds loosened. With more room to maneuver, she cut through the remaining coils of rope, freeing her right arm. Though it ached from its uncomfortable position, she kept it where it was, pressed against the bedpost.
    Now she had a problem. In her rehearsals with Bayard, she’d never been tied up. She’d always held her hand close to her target’s body, usually resting on his back. That allowed her to strike with lightning speed—a necessity, along with distraction, for bypassing the war mage’s gift of anticipation. But her hand was far away. Could she strike quickly enough to make the kill? It was a lot of distance to cover.
    She’d lain passive as Remus kissed and pinched and penetrated her. Now she kissed him back, moaning deep in her throat. She moved her body in time with his strokes.
    Remus chuckled, thrusting harder and faster.
    She inched her right hand downward along the bed. When Remus’s attention momentarily drifted toward her hand, she moaned as if in need and drew him back to her. Slowly, one finger’s breadth at a time, she moved her hand.
    Remus’s body stiffened in a way she was well familiar with. She could wait no longer.
    Vitala drove the Shard into the soft flesh of his hip and released the death spell. He began instantly to thrash. She scrambled out from under him, plucked the Shard from his hip, and kicked his flailing body away in disgust. She cut her left wrist free from the bedpost.
    Remus twitched and seized, making little gasping sounds. His wide eyes stared at her; she had no doubt he was still conscious, but he couldn’t speak; the spell had paralyzed his throat. Bloody froth leaked from the corners of his mouth. She was tempted to tell him,
Relax, and you might enjoy it,
but taunting was unprofessional. She scooped up her syrtos from the floor.
    How much time did she have? Not much. Remus had said half an hour, but it was not impossible that the next man could arrive early.
    Remus gave one final, convulsive gasp and lay still. Vitala threw on her syrtos, went to Remus’s sweat-dampened corpse, and peeled the mail shirt and tunic back from his neck. There was his riftstone. Topaz. She’d made the right decision. She slipped the tiny stone