“Anywhere but with you,” Faust spat. “Guards!”
The man sighed. “They want to kill you, Your Highness.”
Faust stiffened.
“There they are! Archers, ready!”
Faust jerked to his right. The archers were aiming at him.
The arrows whistled, hurtling closer.
Faust shut his eyes, and his world shifted again with an abrupt drop in elevation.
“Is there any safe place for you?” the man asked again, his voice gruff. He ran into the street and sprinted up steps to another part of the market.
Faust thought long and hard, his focus dwindling. Konrad told him what to do if this happened. “The Guild of Artisans. Any of their residencies should do.”
“How daring,” the man said, observing the knights that crawled through the market. They were checking doors, shouting orders, and directing units of knights through the market. Heavy footsteps banged up the stairs behind the man. “I’m going to fight them. Will you stay still if I set you down?”
Faust glared. He’d be an easy target without the use of his hands and feet. “Untie me.”
“Do you promise not to strike me? I can’t protect you if you strike me down.”
Warmth slid over Faust, coiling with his magic. He closed his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed. The blasted feeling made it harder to concentrate. He didn’t have time for this. The sounds of the footsteps came closer. “Fine! I will not strike you, but if you—”
Without a word, the man sat Faust down so that his back leaned against the wall and cut the bonds at his feet, but the knights crashed into the small space too soon. The man cursed and whipped two long, decorative guns out and fired.
Faust’s breath caught in his throat as the recoil of the gun echoed against his skin.
Knights shouted for reinforcements, and the man was at a severe disadvantage with his guns against the wide swing of the knights’ swords.
Faust looked up hopefully when a few knights started his way, but ice raced down his spine as one knight raised a blade with a murderous glint in his eyes. A bullet lodged in his neck, and the knight fell flat.
Faust drew his legs close to his chest as the blade bounded past him. Another knight tried the very same thing and met with the same fate. They were really trying to kill him.
“Fight, Your Highness,” the cloaked man said.
Faust focused the best he could through blurry vision. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the magic swirling in the air, searching for a knight with one of the four magic stones. He sensed variations of earth magic, but a bright spark of fire seized his magic. Faust forced his eyes open and took in the bloodbath before him. The man held off a sword with his gun, but another was slicing the air by him.
Faust gritted his teeth, shoving his magic into his rescuer’s fire stone. Fire erupted from the man’s belt and flickered out in an explosion. Faust heaved, grimacing at the image he conjured for the magic to follow. Explosive bombs of fire erupted and the knights’ armor melted.
Screams vibrated against the stone, echoing pleas for mercy.
Faust wretched on the ground, shaking. Death, the wind smelled of death. The wind whistled to his left, but Faust couldn’t move, paralyzed by the horrors he’d just committed.
“Faust!” The man shoved the prince to the ground. An arrow lodged just beyond them, and the man whirled, lifted his gun, and fired.
Faust sucked in a breath as the archer fell from his perch, adding to the putrid smell of burnt flesh and singed clothing. A hacking cough rose from Faust’s throat, black spots crossing his vision.
The man turned his attention back to Faust. “Stay with me. You can’t fall asleep here.”
Faust struggled under the heavy weight of sickness as if he’d been tossed into water. He shouldn’t have used magic, it only sped up whatever that incense was. The ground shook beneath him, and the sound of armed knights clamored closer. The pop of a cork was loud and yet distant next to him.
“Forgive me, Your Highness.” The man lifted Faust’s chin. “I need to give you this antidote. Swallow. It tastes awful, but it will help.”
The mouth of the small bottle touched Faust’s lips, but he refused, doing his best to glare his way out of drinking it.
“Please let me help you,” the man whispered and caressed Faust’s cheek. “The incense will kill you if you don’t take this.”
The same tantalizing warmth tangled with his magic, breaking through his resolve. He focused and blinked slowly. Faust didn’t understand it; the warmth was comforting and reassuring—foreign, yet familiar. A ruby-red aura pulsed around the man. He’d never seen a red aura before, but the color resonated in his soul.
Faust opened his mouth. The liquid was as vile as the man had described, and he coughed, sputtering once he finished it. The man cradled him close, and Faust groaned at the way the antidote burned.
“Hang in there.”
“My lord, the king approaches. We must leave.”
Faust recognized that the voice was a woman’s, but he could no longer see straight. The bindings on his hands loosened, and he was leaned against the wall. “Wait—”
“You’ll be safe soon, Your Highness.”
Faust trained his sights on the man with the strange warmth. “Your . . . name.”
“I’ll tell you next time we meet, gorgeous.”
Wind swept along Faust’s face, and the snap of the man’s cloak drifted farther away. Knights poured into the area, and his head rolled back against the wall. The blades swayed in his vision, but Konrad’s light purple aura blinded him in the next blink. “B-Brother.”
Konrad raised his blade and glanced back to Faust. “Leave none of them alive,” he ordered.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Rene lifted a sky stone.
Daren crouched and launched at the nearest knight, his sword a blur of motion.
Sky blue, green, red, and dark blue magic swirled around Konrad, and a vortex of wind blew out into blades of air.
Faust heaved and watched the sky weep in blood, staining his tunic and pale skin. Konrad was killing them all without remorse, and their screams echoed as he slumped.
Chapter Three
Colors danced before Faust, and the distant images wouldn’t focus. Faust reached out, and wind blew back into his face, accompanied by sky blue, an echo of laughter in its wake. The wind pushed him back two steps, and his castle loomed over him, large and dark. Wind whispered in Faust’s ears and shoved him backward.
The castle grew more distant.
Faust couldn’t leave the castle. Konrad was there. He pressed against the wind, but the wind continued to murmur and move him away until a light purple streaked across his vision.
Faust gasped awake, his breathing fast. He sat up to inspect his surroundings, and a damp cloth fell to his lap. He was on a makeshift bed of pillows and blankets among various sized wooden crates. The only light came from a small, circular window, and it was far too faint to be daylight.
Wood creaked and settled. The sound of heavy fabric billowing filled the small, dark room.
Faust threw the pile of blankets off and stumbled to the small window, hitting the worn wood with both hands. Clouds. He could see clouds! He hadn’t been on a Volliare in ages. He’d only seen the airships from his study in the castle for the last few years.