Dark woods and metal trunks furnished Ignas’s room and everything was bolted in place. The wardrobe was in its usual place, but this room held a large desk full of papers and books. There was even a map of Windilum on the wall. The kingdom was larger than he remembered. Racks of weapons lined the same wall, several shotguns, bows, and swords. He even spotted a spear.
A whip hung curled above a pair of daggers. The crack of it flew to the forefront of Faust’s mind. He remembered the blinding pain on his skin. Lathil’s angry orders echoed, and Faust shook his head, his breathing quickening. He jerked his gaze away and did his best to regain his composure.
Faust closed his eyes, counting until he felt better. He forced himself to think of something else—Ignas being valiant. He’d love to watch Ignas use every weapon against Lathil. Ignas was the best protection for him and Aris.
“I will protect you,” Vasil said, his gaze sharp on the king.
Faust opened his eyes. Vasil would regret those words when he learned his real name. He’d rather have Aris and Ignas by him, and even Mika. Faust’s face fell, his eyes downcast.
“You lost someone… recently,” Vasil voiced in the silence.
Faust clenched the sheets in his hands.
“Is Lord Walder all right?” Roe asked, kneeling in front of the king.
“Yes, last I saw. He was well.”
“You need to rest, Lord Arcus. Let us worry about your protection. Trust us,” Roe said and touched Faust’s knee, bowing his head. “We are here for you.”
“Last time I let someone else do so, they died,” Faust whispered. He didn’t want to see anyone else die protecting him. He’d caused enough pain.
“The Guild of Smithery specializes in this, Lord Arcus,” Roe said. “Have faith in the ones Lord Walder chose.”
Faust sighed. Roe had a point. Faust trusted Ignas with his life, he supposed trusting the guild wasn’t so different.
Roe regarded Vasil. “You may leave now. Lord Arcus is safe in this room.”
“He needs constant protection, healer.”
Faust raised an eyebrow in question. “I am not as helpless as I appear.”
“I know,” Vasil said, his lips curving, “but it does not change your status.”
Faust averted his gaze. It was inconvenient deities knew he was the High King at a glance, but it seemed Vasil had not heard Faust Kingsley was the High King at least. His magic was different and appealing to the deities as if it was a beacon. It was something he learned being Lathil’s captive. He’d closed off his magic once and Lathil grew angry he could not feel him.
Roe jabbed Vasil’s side with an annoyed huff. “Lord Arcus needs his space. He’s been through a lot at the hands of the Blood Moon and those blasted deities. He doesn’t need you hovering too. His freedom does not mean we will lock him away again.”
A smile twitched on Faust’s lips. Roe’s styled hair moved forward as if to punctuation the healer’s words.
Vasil gritted his teeth.
“If you insist on guarding him, it will be outside the door, not within this room. Now. Out with you, shoo.” Roe attempted to push Vasil toward the door, but he was far too small compared to Vasil.
Vasil planted his weight and grunted, his eyes dark and unamused on the healer.
Faust watched in amusement. He admired Roe’s bravery. He cleared his throat and caught Vasil’s gaze, motioning to the door.
Vasil’s expression fell.
Faust hesitated. Vasil’s eyes swam with such turmoil. The deity wanted to disobey him, but it felt like there was more to it. He took a slow breath. “You may guard outside my door.”
Vasil smirked.
Faust’s eyebrow twitched. Vasil knew he would cave.
“If you need anything, send this brute to come get myself or Earl, Lord Arcus,” Roe said with a stern look at Vasil.
“I will,” Faust said. The door shut with a softer click than he thought a heavy door would have.
Faust sifted through the magic of the Volliare once it took to the sky. Vasil’s heat seeped through the door as if it would overtake the warmth Ignas left.
“Rest,” Vasil said through the door.
Faust flopped down on the bed. He scooted to the headboard and snatched a pillow, burying his face in it. He grinned. Ignas’s scent of gunpowder, blood, and musk remained. Ignas himself would be better, but he could make do with this. At least in his mercenary’s bedding, he felt safe. Ignas’s presence surrounded him.
Faust rearranged the blankets and pelts, slipping underneath. He settled, hugging a pillow and burying his face in another. “Ignas,” he mumbled and closed his eyes. He better take care of Aris in his absence. He would be upset with Ignas if he wasn’t.
Five
Wind interrupted Faust’s sleep. He hadn’t remembered falling asleep. Faust touched his face and felt lines along his skin. He’d slept hard.
The king uncurled his hands from the pillow, amused at himself when the pillow fluffed back out.
Wind tapped at him again, and Faust smiled. “Aris,” he whispered. Faust reached out with his magic, dancing back and forth with his deity. The wind yanked him along, and he closed his eyes, drifting to Aris’s location, calmed by his surety.
Aris was all right.
Their magic soared and twisted, sending a tidal wave of pleasure through Faust. Blue flashed underneath his tunic and Faust touched his chest.
Aris’s wind pushed Faust to another with what felt like a haughty grin.
Faust’s magic brushed against the familiar warmth of Ignas. His magic quivered.
The High King cracked his eyes open, his grip tight on the pillow, and his toes curled as he let out a slow breath. His magic hadn’t done that before.
Their connection cut.
Faust floated in a strange black void. He panicked, reaching for his magic.
“There is no need to be afraid, High King.”
Faust jerked to his right.
The deity in white from his vision in Haven stared at him with a wide smile.
Icy blue eyes met Faust’s gaze. Dark, well-kept hair framed the deity’s face. His skin was bronze, a bit darker than Ignas’s. White wings floated behind the deity and a soft pulse came from a white marking beneath the man’s bangs.
“Are you…Sortiris?” Faust asked, finding his voice.
Sortiris laughed. “I am, High King. It is quite strange seeing you like this after so long but welcome. I have missed you.”
Faust didn’t understand.
Sortiris raised his hand and white orbs flicked around the pair. “I apologize for interrupting your call with your Linos, but you must know this.” The deity raised a finger as if to make a point. “You must keep reaching out to a minimum, Your Majesty. Lathil is looking for you. He will sense your magic. My presence here will mask yours.” Sortiris pointed at Faust’s chest. “Your magic is growing stronger. You must refrain from using it for now. Trust the one at your side. He will not harm you. He has not hurt you.”
Faust made a face. There was no way he could trust Vasil.
Sortiris chuckled. “Even your expressions are the same.”
Red sparked between Faust and the deity.
Sortiris smiled. “We will speak again, High King.”