The King's Assassin

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The King's Assassin Page 1

by M.M. Brownlow


The King’s Assassin

  M.M. Brownlow

  Copyright 2010 M.M. Brownlow

  This book is also available in print at most online retailers

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Eryk came striding out of the castle, pushing his thick leather hawking gloves into his belt. Servants and courtiers scrambled out of his way as he descended the broad stone steps that led into the courtyard, especially when a look of irritation crossed his handsome face.

  “Where’s my horse?” he demanded, glaring in the direction of the grooms.

  One man struggled through the crowd, leading a black stallion. “He’s right here, your Highness.”

  Eryk grabbed the reins from the groom’s outstretched hand and practically threw himself into the saddle. His abrupt movement caused the horse to dance a little, and the prince reined him in sharply, taking his anger out on his mount. He was irate and distracted, thinking about the mess he’d left behind him. If only his father would realize he wasn’t ready to ‘settle down’ and choose a bride yet. He couldn't stand the thought of having a clingy, needy female following him around everywhere, curbing his freedom and leeching his will to live. It wasn’t like all the young men were heading off to certain doom, needing heirs waiting in the wings in case some of them didn't return home.

  Branden, braving Eryk’s mood, guided his horse closer and leaned over in his saddle.

  “So what’s wrong this time?” he asked.

  “The same as always,” Eryk replied. “Father and I were arguing again.”

  Branden laughed. “So that explains the quick exit, even if today is a perfect day. I would have expected you outside eventually anyway.”

  Branden was the only son of Lord Collin, the king’s chief advisor, and he’d been Eryk’s good friend for as long as either of them could remember. He was the opposite of Eryk in every way – blond hair compared to his friend’s black, slightly shorter than average where Eryk was taller than most. He was grateful for being the opposite in this particular situation too, thankful that his father wasn’t as anxious to see him married.

  He could understand Eryk’s lack of interest in choosing the woman he would be with for the rest of his life. Eryk was very handsome, and quite popular with the ladies around the court – nobly born and not. Branden knew that he wouldn’t want to have to choose just one lovely lady. Granted, there was a certain amount of leeway given to the men in the royal family, but nobody wanted bastard-born children running around.

  Branden knew that Collin was hoping that Eryk would choose Alexius, Branden’s sister, as his bride when he inevitably gave in to the king’s demands. Branden smiled to himself, picturing Eryk as his brother-in-law, the three of them a tight-knit little group. It would be perfect.

  “When’s the Ball?” Branden asked.

  “Two weeks.” Eryk scowled, and then shook his head, as if to clear away bad thoughts. “Well, I’m still free for the time being. Father’s trapped in court for the next few hours, so we've suspended the whole mess for the time being. Let’s get out of here.”

  With no more warning than that, Eryk squeezed his knees into his horse’s sides and moved into a quick trot. He had no problems leaving the rest of his entourage to catch up or follow along behind more slowly, as they wished. Branden hurried to keep up with Eryk, followed closely by their escort of red and grey uniformed guardsmen.

 

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