Faust continued to feign sleep, trying to make sense of his situation. A loose tunic, much bigger than him, rested coolly against his skin. Thankfully, his pants felt the same. The heavy weight of blankets kept him far too warm and the faint scent of furs wafted close to his nose.
“Are you awake, gorgeous?” an all too familiar deep voice asked.
Faust’s eyes flew open. He moved up on his arms to launch out of bed, but Ignas caught his arm and jerked him back.
“It’s all right,” Ignas said.
Faust’s breathing quickened. There was no way this was all right! Ignas knew he was the prince for certain now, and Faust didn’t remember lying down. He concentrated on his magic, preparing to fight his way out. This wasn’t a time to concern himself with secrecy. Konrad would forgive him, he hoped.
“I am not going to hurt you, Your Highness,” Ignas said, his grip tight on Faust’s arm.
Strong warmth engulfed Faust, soothing his nerves. He faltered, his concentration shot, and stared at Ignas. Ignas wore no tunic, his muscular chest exposed, and Faust had the urge to trace every curve of Ignas’s muscles. He’d felt them under Ignas’s clothes when they’d danced, but he longed for skin on skin contact. Which was ridiculous. They’d just met. He shook his head. “Why should I believe you?” he asked, his brown eyes narrowed.
Ignas released Faust’s arm. “I could have killed you the second I saw you walk in, Your Highness, but that was not my aim. I wish to keep you alive.”
Faust rubbed his temples. “Did someone give you ample coin to do that?”
Ignas smoothed his dark, messy hair back. “In a way. Many in power want you dead. I am among the ones that do not.”
“So, is that why you saved me?” Faust sat back on the bed. It was far more comfortable than the one at the inn. He glanced toward the covered window. Sunlight peeked from behind the curtain. Rene was going to maim him.
“I saved you because I wanted to.” Ignas stood.
Faust tracked Ignas’s movements, shamelessly admiring Ignas’s physique. Ignas’s back was broad and strong, much stronger than Rene’s, or even his brother’s.
Ignas glanced over his shoulder with a grin. “Like what you see?”
Faust looked away, his cheeks hot with a blush. As much as he wanted to touch, now was not the time or place. “Put some clothes on.”
Ignas chuckled. “As you wish.” He sauntered over to his wardrobe and pulled it open, taking his sweet time choosing a top.
Faust inspected the room to distract himself. It was tidier than he expected and well lived-in. The sitting area had a mass of pillows and a large floor bed with little tables around it. The window appeared small, based on the amount of light shining through. Trying to get out that way would just cause him injury. His gaze stopped on a pile of folded clothes next to a small glass of water and a small powder pouch.
“You should take some,” Ignas said and tied a sash in place before grabbing a leather belt. “I can’t imagine you feeling well after how much you drank last night.”
Faust winced. He’d lost count after a few dances with Ignas. The man was intoxicating and bad for his self-control, but the wine had been so good, he couldn’t stop. He remembered eating and drinking water, but he must not have had enough to stop the pulsing headache. Faust rubbed at his temple and resigned himself to the bitter medicine. He pushed the heavy blankets away and slipped off the bed, halting as the tunic slouched off one of his shoulders.
Ignas whistled. “You are even more beautiful in my clothes, gorgeous.”
“Compliments will get you nowhere.” At least not right now. He was in serious trouble for this. He’d never gotten this far with any of his past interests. Faust yanked the tunic back on his shoulder.
“Was worth a try,” Ignas said with the sound of a grin on his lips.
Faust squared his shoulders. He tugged the tunic closer, and the scent of gunpowder, leather, and a small whiff of blood hit his nose. A scent that was purely Ignas. He shook his head and grabbed the powder pouch. Faust turned to Ignas.
“That doesn’t need to be mixed in water.” Ignas closed the wardrobe, dressed for the day, including jewelry. “Just place it on your tongue and then drink.”
Faust hesitated. This was rather crude medicine. Everything in the castle was mixed with water. This must have been why Konrad wanted him to be a court merchant. If he found out what their people needed, it would be easier to slide it past Emoris and Lathil and get the people on their side.
“It’s perfectly safe,” Ignas said and waltzed over to Faust. “It works well, I promise.”
Faust held the pouch in his fingers. He’d been lucky this far, but there were people after him. They could even be among Ignas’s group.
Ignas plucked the pouch from Faust’s fingers. “Here, let me show you.” He ripped a side open, tipped a bit in his mouth, and grabbed the glass, taking a swig.
Faust eyed the mercenary.
Ignas put the glass down. “See? I’m not keeling over.”
“I suppose that is true.” Faust held his hand out for the pouch.
Ignas grinned. “Let me help you.”
Faust snatched the pouch. “Absolutely not.” He seethed, but it only got him another chuckle. He poured the powder in his mouth, his face twisting. He grabbed the glass and turned it away from the side Ignas used, downing the rest of the water.
Ignas laughed.
Faust set the glass down with a loud thud on the small table. He wiped his mouth with a grimace. That was awful. It had better work or heads would roll. “I suppose you will explain why I am in your tunic.” He hoped he hadn't missed out on any action with Ignas. He didn’t remember anything past their heated dancing.
Ignas smirked.
Faust braced himself for embarrassment. He didn’t get drunk often.
“You demanded to wear my tunic,” Ignas said. “There was no way you were sleeping in your day clothes, you said. I at least convinced you to keep your pants on. Mine wouldn’t have fit well.”
Faust’s cheeks heated, and he held the tunic closer to his body. “And that is it?”
“You were quite tempting.”
Faust glared. That was not an answer.
Ignas put his hands out. “Do not fret, Your Highness. I only bed the willing and sober, even if the other party is interested.”
Faust supposed he’d believe Ignas.
“Zara would have sent me to an early grave in the most gruesome of ways,” Ignas added with a wave of his hand. “No matter what you have heard about us, we have high moral standards in Windilum. We’ll be returning you to the court historian before he tears the town apart and gives you away.”
Faust’d heard nasty rumors of Windilum being filled with filth and that no one could be trusted, but he knew better. Windilum had harsh laws for dishonesty and cruelty to others. They were prideful people and loyal to each other. Ignas only proved that point even more. “I believe you. Now turn away while I dress,” he said with a flip of his hand.
Ignas laughed and turned.
Faust checked his clothes. They were only marginally wrinkled. Rene wouldn’t be too mad about that then, but his magic stones had been lain out on top. Even though he hadn’t used the stones, no one carried magic stones unless they could use them. Rene would be furious, that was certain. He ran his hands over his neck and frowned. The bandages had been removed, but a light creme settled there instead. “Did a healer tend to me?”