Faust shook his head. “I cannot apologize enough for the war Windilum endured.”
Roe brushed Faust’s sweaty bangs from his forehead. “You are not to blame for our plight, Lord Arcus. Lord Walder feels much the same. Do not worry. It took us three weeks to find you, and we won’t let anyone have you again. Our duty is to keep you safe.” Roe gave Vasil a pointed look. “That includes from him.”
Vasil rolled his eyes. “You behave as if I was after his virtue, healer.”
“Roe,” the healer clipped.
Vasil waved his hand in dismissal. “You do not command me, healer.”
Roe gave Vasil a crude gesture and a scowl. “You’re hired help, mercenary. If you want your wounds treated, you will learn to respect me.”
Faust snorted.
The healer smiled. “Now then, Lord Arcus, shall we?”
Faust nodded and let Roe look him over. Roe’s hands were cold on his skin, and his hand shook in Roe’s graceful grasp.
“I had feared this,” Roe said. “You will need to keep taking the antidote longer. It spread to your nerves.” Roe massaged Faust’s hand, prodding his joints.
Faust’s stomach sank. “Is it permanent?” He needed to wield a sword. He would not be a helpless king. Faust had a duty to protect Aris. Magic couldn’t be his only weapon.
“The spasms will continue until the antidote purges the poison from your system.” Roe moved to check Faust’s ankles. The healer ran gentle hands up Faust’s calf and tested the king’s movements. The muscle on Faust’s left leg spasmed under Roe’s touch. Roe frowned. “Walking may be difficult for a while.”
Faust grimaced.
“I can commission a cane for you while the antidote runs its course.” Roe stood, brushing his robes clean. “You must take it until there are no more visible symptoms.”
“How long will that be?” Faust flexed his hand. He struggled to close his fist. He wouldn’t be able to hold a sword even if he wanted too. Both his hands and left leg spasmed.
“Only time will tell,” Roe admitted. “We were almost too late. If you had shown signs in both legs, it would have been irreversible.”
Faust looked at Roe, his eyes wide.
“Until you recover, you must refrain from using magic.” Roe walked over to the mixing table.
Faust scowled.
“Scowling will not change my diagnosis, Lord Arcus,” Roe said with a small glance back as he crafted another antidote vial for the king to drink. “We will protect you. Have faith in us. We sent word to Lord Walder. Not much will stop him from catching up to us.”
A smile twitched on Faust’s lips. Ignas would come to him. Faust only hoped Aris was with him and he was all right. The king rubbed at his chest with a frown. Aris had been heavily injured last he remembered.
“Linos lives,” Vasil said.
Faust startled and looked at the deity with uncertainty.
The wind whistled, and Faust turned his attention sharply to the tent flap billowing in the wind. Earth magic was coming closer.
A whistle broke through the air.
“Scouts, twenty yards out. One Volar in the air!”
Faust clenched his fists.
Earl burst into the tent. “We must hide Lord Arcus. Relan’s men have found us.”
Fire magic crackled, and the air grew hot. “The Blessed’s men?” Vasil asked.
Vasil’s magic coiled around Faust like an iron casket. The deity was determined to keep him safe, but it was far more suffocating than Ignas’s warmth and more like a cage.
“It’s only his scouts, he wasn’t seen,” Earl said. “Roe, can he be moved?”
Roe shook the vial in his hand, finishing the mixture, unalarmed by the ruckus outside. “He needs assistance, but he can be moved.”
Vasil waltzed over to Faust and lifted him into his arms without a word. “Where shall I take him?”
Faust sucked in a breath, his grip tight on the deity’s fur collar. “I did not give you permission to touch me,” he seethed.
“Forgive me, I will not trust your safety to anyone else,” Vasil declared, unblinking under Faust’s glare. The deity turned to Earl.
“Follow Roe to the Volliare,” Earl said.
Roe pulled out a pair of glasses from his robes and passed them to Faust.
Faust’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Where did you get these?”
“Lord Walder struck a deal a few months ago with the Guild of Masters and Lord Clare. Since you are their patron, they set some rules,” Roe simplified. “Anyone who could or would harbor Lord Arcus was to have these just in case.”
Faust’s lips twitched with glee. He slipped the silver glasses on, pushing them into place.
Vasil’s eyes narrowed at Faust.
Faust swore he saw lust pass through Vasil’s dark gaze. He cleared his throat. “The Volliare.”
Vasil let out a quiet breath and pulled the flap of the tent back. He made his way toward the Volliare.
The camp was in full swing arming themselves and hiding among the various makeshift walls of snow. Faust observed the men and women sheath weapons and gather smoke bombs. Earl barked out an order to be ready to move once they dealt with the scouts.
Vasil set Faust down in the hull of the Volliare and stared into the High King’s eyes. “I will take care of them. They will rue the day they crossed me.”
Faust kept a hand on the wall and his weight off his left foot. Roe steadied him, and he gave the healer a small smile. “There is a Volar,” Faust reminded.
Vasil chuckled.
Faust’s breath caught in his throat. Red flickered beneath Vasil’s dark eyes.
“I am quite angry. A Volar will not escape my reach.” Vasil leaned on the wood paneling above Faust’s head. “Watch me.”
Faust took a deep breath. “It will take more than a simple victory to impress me.”
Vasil’s eyes flashed again, and a grin touched the deity’s lips.
Roe jabbed Vasil in the ribs. “Stop hitting on Lord Walder’s lover. Get going. You have a fight to win.”
Vasil grunted in annoyance. He gave Faust one last look and walked back into the campsite.
Faust adjusted his glasses and exhaled. “Thank you.”
“That man is dangerous,” Roe said. “He has a strange way of going about things. It is best to keep your distance. He doesn’t take orders well.”
Faust nodded. Roe’s speech meant no one here knew Vasil was a deity. He doubted the healer would treat Vasil so crassly if he knew.
Roe popped the cork on a vial. “Please drink this.”
Faust made a face. He downed the vile substance with a cough. Eyes locked on his movements and Faust looked out at the camp to see Vasil’s gaze on him. Faust flashed the vial, and the deity nodded, turning back to his task.
The camp fell into position, hiding behind crates and wagons with few in plain sight. Vasil was the only one standing out in the open with no weapon drawn.
Faust shuffled down the hallway to a window, Roe at his side.
The sound of hooves thundered in the distance. Four scouts galloped into the camp, their weapons drawn, while a Volar circled above.
“You there,” a scout pointed his gun at Vasil. “Who does this camp belong to?”