Faust shook his head. “Ignas.”
“Yes, gorgeous?”
“Name your price.”
“M-My lord,” Rene protested. “You cannot hire them.”
Faust put up his hand to silence Rene. “We are in need of immediate escorts to Hol and beyond to the Kingdom of Roltan. I was told I would get the best escorts, correct? We have mercenaries at the ready, right here.” Faust wanted to keep Ignas closer, and Ignas’s warmth was by far more comforting than Rene’s magic. It also gave Faust more time to pursue Ignas, but Rene didn’t need to know that.
Faust glanced at the other mercenaries near the road still. They each held their weapons loosely, complete with smug looks. They were the exact image of pride the wind rumored Windilum carried. “Is the caravan yours too, Ignas?”
Ignas nodded while Zara laughed. “Just for you.”
Faust gave Rene a snide smile.
“You will still need to keep your spending to a reasonable limit.” Rene sighed in defeat. “What about these bodies?”
“That is our forte. Naturally, we’ll take care of that as well,” Zara said with a snap of her fingers. Other mercenaries from the tavern rode into the clearing and dragged the bodies onto a wooden cart.
Faust gestured in agreement with a look to Rene. The historian only rubbed his temple. “So, Ignas, price?”
Ignas looked Faust up and down, a mischievous grin working over his lips.
Faust flicked the air with wind, his sky stone a brief flash of light as he aimed for Ignas.
The mercenary groaned, rubbing his forehead with a feigned pout. “I’d love to spend time with you, gorgeous. Could it be thrown in?”
“Absolutely not,” Rene said, his glare sharp.
Ignas raised his hands in defeat, but the amusement in his expression remained.
“I am still waiting, Ignas,” Faust said.
Ignas smirked.
Chapter Eight
A vast forest lay in front of Faust. He scanned his surroundings, but no one was there. The closer he looked, the less he recognized the scenery. There were no healthy forests like this one in Alios.
Laughter filled the air behind him, and a faint presence touched his back, sending wind billowing through the forest.
Faust whirled, but no one was there.
Another feather-light touch of the wind trailed across Faust’s neck, the laughter sharp in his ear, lips grazing it.
Faust startled awake, inhaling the aroma of the wild. He huddled into the pelts and cracked his eyes open to stare at the canvas walls of his tent, tracing a finger along his ear. That was a strange dream, almost too real to be a dream. He brushed his fingertips across the taut canvas to ensure he was really awake. It was cold beneath his touch. He’d forgotten he was camping outside the last three days. Faust rolled over with a heavy sigh, intent on going back to sleep, but earth magic brushed against his senses.
Faust bolted upright. A Volant was coming.
The flap of the tent flew back, and Ignas barged in.
Faust sputtered, but Ignas put a finger to his lips. He glanced behind him, trying to convey the impending danger with his eyes.
“We’ve spotted the Volant a few yards out,” Ignas whispered. “Mess up your hair more and place paint on your face.”
“Paint?”
“It will make it look like you are with us. Quick.” Ignas took out a small bin.
Faust ran a hand through his hair but scrutinized the bin.
Ignas rolled his eyes. “That is not messy enough, they will recognize you.” Ignas ruffled Faust’s hair despite his indignant squawk, pulling away with a grin. “Now, you look like you had quite a tumble.”
Faust smacked Ignas’s chest, embarrassment heating his face.
Ignas caught Faust’s hand and lifted the small bin. He popped the cork and dipped his fingers in the dark purple paint.
Faust reeled back. “Will it come off?”
“Yes.”
A loud thud hit the ground.
Faust steeled himself and glanced at Ignas, nodding.
Ignas ran his fingers over Faust’s cheekbones on either side. “Hold still.” He dragged his fingers up the prince’s sternum to his exposed collarbone, careful of his healing bruises.
Faust shuddered, his skin tingling under Ignas’s touch, the strange warmth seeping into his skin.
Ignas rubbed his hands clean on the pelt and tossed Faust his glasses.
Faust slipped them on as steps came closer.
“Forgive me,” Ignas whispered and yanked Faust into his arms.
Faust sucked in a breath and gazed into Ignas’s eyes, aware of the small space between them.
The flap of the tent whipped back.
Faust flinched, his cheeks bright red, and buried his face in Ignas’s broad chest.
“Who do you have there?” the Volant asked.
“No one of your concern,” Ignas said.
The Volant scoffed. “Let me see his face, even if he is one of those brothel males.”
Faust clenched Ignas’s tunic.
“My companion is no brothel male.”
Faust lifted his head to stare at the Volant. He didn’t recognize this guard.
“He’s fairly good looking,” the Volant said.
Ignas rounded and shoved the Volant out of the tent, a storm of anger in his eyes.
Faust fell back on his hands, the warmth surged around him in a shield. Ignas kept the tent flap open a fraction in quiet observation, a hand on one of his decorative guns. Faust could only hope Ignas wouldn’t shoot.
The Volant charged for Faust’s tent, but the click of a gun stopped him.
“The boss doesn’t take kindly to those that interrupt his time with his lover.” Zara smiled. “You are an uninvited guest in our travel. State your purpose.”
“You're suspected of hiding Prince Faust,” the Volant snarled. “The court historian is thought to be housing him and hired mercenaries to guard the prince.”
“Prince Faust?” Zara asked. “Why would he come with us?”
The Volant glanced around the Windilum caravan full of tents and small fires.
Rene left a tent behind Zara and dusted his tunic off, a hand on his hip. “You have quite the nerve accusing me of hiding Prince Faust from King Konrad. I was asked to escort the court merchant and search for the prince. Said court merchant ran off while I was gathering supplies. The thought of meeting exceptional mercenaries was far too great for him.”
The Volant kicked the dirt. “Lord Evans went missing not long after you left. We had to make his son the new lord of the town.”
“We left three days ago,” Rene said.
“They disappeared three days ago,” the Volant said. “Lord Evans and his knights never returned.”
Rene pushed his monocle in place, annoyed. “He was very much alive when I left.”
“You were running around in panic before you left,” the Volant said. “Where is this mysterious court merchant? Perhaps he is the prince in disguise.”
“You flatter me, but I cannot be the prince,” Faust said, pitching his voice out of his tent. He had to hope this worked. “I was to meet with the prince.” Faust stepped out of his tent, Ignas at his side. His hair was every which way and his clothes a far cry from appearing like he’d only been sleeping. The paint would accented his pale complexion, and the glasses gave the final touch of difference.