Faust finally remembered to breathe, but his stomach was a mass of butterflies. He hadn’t thought this through. He couldn’t reveal who he was, he was in hiding. “I am Lord Arcus, a newly appointed court merchant.”
“Come sit, have a drink with me.” Ignas sauntered to the farthest table from the door.
Faust weighed his options. Ignas didn’t appear nor feel malicious to him, and the warmth settled around him like a protective veil. He took a deep breath and followed.
Ignas yanked his knife out of the wall and landed hard in his chair. He motioned for Faust to take the seat across from him with a smile.
Faust took his seat with grace and adjusted the dagger underneath his coat. The whole room had him in their sights, and he squared his shoulders off.
Ignas signaled for drinks. The tavern moved back into motion as if they never stopped, and right along with it, the noise level rose. Ambient music played, a soothing mixture of string instruments and drums. “You’re safe among us.”
Faust thanked Alimphis that he was in Ignas’s favor. Few could ease a room full of tension. It reminded him of Konrad’s sway as a king.
“So, what brings the mysterious court merchant to this quaint town?” Ignas rested his head on one hand.
Faust had to think fast. “I am looking for someone.”
Ignas motioned for Faust to continue.
“Someone in the capital sent me to find a certain person while I travel the lands to search out good business.”
Ignas regarded Faust. “You’ve come to the right place. For the right price, we can help.”
Faust furrowed his brows. “Price?”
“We are mercenaries. For the right amount of coin, we will rescue someone, kill, or,” Ignas stared into Faust’s eyes, “protect someone in grave danger.”
Faust kept his expression neutral. He couldn’t shake the feeling Ignas knew he was the prince, which thrilled and scared him all at once.
A young man dropped off drinks and walked away without a word.
Ignas took a dark wine and swirled the liquid near the edge. “Have a drink. These wines have aged well.”
Faust chose the lighter wine and examined the contents.
“You will not find any poison in it, Lord Arcus.” Ignas drained half his glass with a guttural sound of appreciation.
Faust steeled himself and drank a small sip. He blinked. It was sweet. He took another sip and another, the taste addicting.
“That’s the spirit.” Ignas downed the rest of his drink. “Why’d the king send you this way? Surely, a court merchant stays in the castle under the watchful eye of the Guild of Artisans.”
Faust shrugged. “I must make connections outside the capital. It cannot be done through letters. I can see more about a person’s true nature face-to-face.”
Ignas grabbed a second glass and raised it to Faust. “You’re wise for your age.”
Damn right he was. It was required of him as a prince. Faust tapped his glass with Ignas’s and downed the rest of his wine, another glass taking its place.
“So, who are you looking for?” Ignas pressed and sat back, relaxed.
Faust’s eyes flickered from his drink to Ignas. The man was much taller and broader than him, even with Faust’s average height. Ignas had carried him around as if he weighed nothing. He was entirely too handsome as well, but he’d win a fight only because Faust wasn’t supposed to use magic, and Ignas seemed to know Faust was the prince Windilum had tried to steal. For reasons Faust still needed to figure out. Faust was well aware of the tension at the border. Ignas could have orders to kill him. It depended on Ignas’s current patron.
Faust would have to be satisfied that he’d seen him and knew Ignas’s name at the very least.
“Sworn to secrecy?” Ignas asked, taking a casual sip of his wine. He gestured for more drinks and peered into Faust’s eyes again.
Faust averted his gaze, doing his best to ignore the way his heart raced under such piercing eye contact. He downed the rest of his glass. “It is not that.”
“Say no more,” Ignas said. “Let us enjoy the night, shall we?” Ignas waved his hand and the music changed to something with far more rhythm. The drumbeats grew louder and the string instruments much wilder.
Faust set his glass down and watched with interest. Some people danced with a partner, their jewelry jangling in rhythm with the music. A slow smile worked upon his face. He’d only seen these kinds of dances from afar. They were getting in nice and close, personal and relaxed, unlike the stuffy dances of the balls Faust was forced to attend.
Ignas stood and offered his hand. “I can teach you the dance.”
Faust hesitated. Rene would be searching for him by now, but the idea of dancing in Ignas’s personal space tempted him more than his worry over Rene finding him in a compromising position. “I should not.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Ignas asked. “Someone as gorgeous as you is wasted sitting on the sidelines.”
Faust’s ears grew hot, but he took Ignas’s hand. “If you so insist, but I would like to watch you first. I do not know these dances.”
Ignas let Faust’s hand go and winked, walking closer to the dance area. “Watch all you like.”
Ignas moved in ways Faust had never been allowed. He stared with open fascination and desire burned through him. Faust wanted nothing more than to know what it felt like to have Ignas’s hands on him, to experience what that warmth could do to him. Ignas stepped back toward him and pulled Faust flush with his body. A gasp caught in Faust’s throat, the warmth seeping through him, unsettling his magic so much, he had to force himself to calm down. It’d be highly embarrassing if Ignas realized just how interested he was.
Ignas leaned close. “You’re way too far away,” he whispered. “Move with me.”
Faust swallowed thickly, his palms aflame in Ignas’s gloved hands. He stumbled into a few steps and swung with the beat as best he could, trying to avoid getting too close. The longer he swayed with Ignas, the more confident his steps became, and he smiled.
“That’s it,” Ignas said into a snug hug.
Their hips were so close Faust could feel Ignas’s cock against his, and he bit back the noise crawling up his throat. One of Ignas’s hands smoothed Faust’s clothing along his waist, causing Faust to shudder at the warmth crawling against his magic.
Ignas spun Faust around, out, and back into his arms with the changing beat of the music.
Faust gripped at Ignas’s arms, pushed their hips close again, and tipped his head up to catch Ignas’s eyes, hoping to express his interest for more.
Ignas leaned close, his eyes full of mirth and undeniable lust.
Faust’s cheeks colored, desire pooling in his gut, but Ignas spun him away as the beat of the drum ended.
Ignas tugged Faust’s hand and swung him into another dance. “The night is still young, Lord Arcus.”
Chapter Six
Faust rolled over and buried his face in a pillow, his head pounding. The pillow smelled of leather and gunpowder. He stretched his senses and his magic tapped against a strong fire presence along with that familiar warmth again. Paper shuffled next to Faust, and the body heat of another swept across the small space by his fingers.