The mare’s hooves beat a steady rhythm as Tal and Athlen crossed the countryside. The packed dirt road ribboned out in front of them, over rolling hills and flat farmland. Tal had never seen this part of the kingdom. He’d studied their northern and eastern borders but knew them only as lines on a map, and not as the ridges of mountains in the distance, snowcapped even in the spring.
Tal didn’t love the sea, despite growing up overlooking the foam and waves, but he had a new appreciation for it after days of riding a horse across the landscape. His hips and bottom were sore from the saddle. His back ached from Athlen holding on to him no matter their pace, and from sleeping on the unforgiving ground.
Athlen wasn’t faring much better. In fact, his pain only worsened the farther they traveled. His face grew pinched and pale, and his lips went bloodless. Circles spread under his eyes, and he hobbled when he walked, gingerly stepping and biting back grunts. When he thought Tal wasn’t looking, he rubbed his muscles—his thighs and calves and the bottoms of his feet.
“Let me find you a river,” Tal said on their third day of travel, the map Dara had given them spread on the ground. “Please.” He reached across the small distance between them and touched Athlen’s hand.
Athlen startled, then stared where Tal’s fingers rested against his own. Slowly, and deliberately, he pulled away and tucked his hands in his lap. Tal’s heart stuttered.
“It won’t help,” Athlen said, unsuccessfully hiding a grimace.
Pushing away his own hurt, Tal took his best guess. “Because it’s not the sea?”
Athlen’s jaw set as he stared at the parchment, his gaze lingering on the jagged coastline. He gave a small, reluctant nod. “We should keep moving,” he replied. “You need to return home as quickly as possible if the rumors we’ve heard are true.”
Tal didn’t argue. Athlen wasn’t wrong.
“That’s the closest coast to here anyway,” Tal added, folding the map.
Athlen nodded. “Yes, it is.”
Tal swung back onto the mare and pulled Athlen up behind him, noting the stark lines of pain around Athlen’s eyes. They rode for the rest of the day, skirting the towns they encountered. Tal’s stomach growled at the thought of stopping at a tavern for a hot meal, but it was too dangerous, especially with the black flags that flew, memorializing his death, instead of the usual kingdom banners.
Food aside, Tal wouldn’t mind a conversation to disrupt his own cyclical thoughts. Athlen had become as silent as the grave, answering Tal’s questions with phrases so short Tal eventually stopped trying to engage with him.
Other things had changed over the days of travel as well. He didn’t touch Tal unless he had to. He didn’t sleep next to him by the fire, opting to crawl as far away as possible and curl into himself. It was as if all the intimacy built between them in the shadows of the cove had disappeared once exposed to the inland sun. It hurt, and while on the surface Tal could attribute Athlen’s strange behavior to being in pain and away from his home, he couldn’t help but feel as if there was another reason lurking beneath Athlen’s forced smiles and distant stares.
Tal slept little that night under a clear sky and a bright moon. Athlen tossed and turned in his sleep a few feet away, while Tal’s thoughts tumbled through his head. His family was in danger. Shay might already be engaged in battle. Ossetia might already be benefiting from their deception. He was running out of time.
On their fourth day of travel, Tal regretted his decision not to travel by boat. It was foolish of him. They’d be pulling into port that day if they’d sailed through the Great Bay. By horse, they still had three more days’ journey ahead of them. Maybe he was too soft to be a prince, so upset by the thought of traveling by boat that he’d put his family, his friend, his country, and himself in greater danger.
Late in the afternoon the silence that had become their constant was broken when Athlen looked to the cloudless sky and frowned. “There’s a storm coming.”
Tal lifted an eyebrow. He twisted in his seat and gave Athlen an incredulous look. “There’s not a cloud in the sky. There’s no breeze. And we’re inland.”
Athlen shrugged. “I don’t think I’m wrong. There is going to be a storm.”
“How do you know?”
Athlen looked away, not meeting Tal’s eyes. “I have a feeling.”
Frustrated and confused, stressed and exhausted, Tal turned back around in the saddle and focused on the road ahead. “My family is in danger. We still have two days until we reach the castle. We’re not stopping because you have a feeling.”
Hours later the wind whipped through Tal’s tousled hair, and his cloak pulled at the clasp at his throat, choking him. Soaked to the bone, hunched over the horse, Athlen shivering and clinging to his back, Tal regretted not stopping at the farm they’d passed an hour or so back. Angry with himself, he cursed his own stubbornness for ignoring Athlen’s warning. Athlen had merely tried to help, and Tal had dismissed his concerns because of Tal’s own tangled emotions. If only he’d listened, they could’ve bedded down in the barn for the night with the horse, safe and warm and dry. Instead they were riding down the muddied road, and Tal gripped the reins with white knuckles, terrified that the horse would take a misstep and send them sprawling, or worse, injure herself.
The thunder rumbled above them as clouds rolled in dark, ominous clusters, obscuring the stars and tumbling over the low light offered by the moon. Athlen jumped when lightning forked above them, and Tal gritted his teeth.
With a soft kick to her sides, Tal spurred the mare onward, hoping the storm would blow over or they’d find a place to rest. The path curved through a small wood, then widened, and Tal straightened from his hunch when they came upon the outskirts of a town.
“Up ahead,” Tal said, his voice drowned out by the rain and the wind, “there’s an inn. We’ll stay there for the night.”
Athlen didn’t question the intelligence of stopping in a public place where Tal might be recognized, small as that chance was, and Tal took that as acquiescence to the plan. Perceiving the potential for a respite from the storm, the horse picked up her pace with minimal urging as the mud beneath her hooves transitioned to stone at the border of the village.
Within minutes they stopped in front of a bustling tavern and disembarked. Athlen slid off the mare’s back and collapsed into the mud, his legs unable to hold him. Tal jumped off and hauled Athlen to his feet, throwing Athlen’s arm over his shoulders.
“I’m fine,” Athlen said, clipped and impatient.
“You’re not. You need to rest.” Tal slipped the dagger from the saddlebags and into the back waistband of Athlen’s trousers. “We should be fine in here,” he said, “but you shouldn’t be unarmed.”
“What about you?”
Tal clenched his hand, smoke blossoming from the creases of his fist. “I’m prepared.”
Together they hobbled up the three short steps. Tal flipped a coin from Athlen’s stash to the boy waiting on the leaky porch.
“Take care of her. She’s had a long day. Then bring the saddlebags up to our room.”
The boy held up the gold in the light. He bit it, wiggling it between his teeth, before leaping off the porch to lead the docile mare to the stable.
With the pair of them sopping wet and Athlen grunting in pain with every step, they drew far more attention than Tal wanted as they stumbled into the tavern, but there wasn’t much to be done for it. Tal dumped Athlen into a chair right inside the door and squelched his way to the first barmaid he found.
“Room for the night,” he said. “And dinner.”
She gave him a once-over. “Can you pay?”
“Yes.” He slipped a coin into her palm.
She then jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Up the stairs. Second door on the right.”
“Thank you.”
Tal hauled Athlen to his feet by his upper arm and dragged him up the stairs. Every step was a chore, and by the time they reached the landing, the boy from the stable had run past and dropped their bags into the room.
“For another coin I’ll tell you the day’s news. Royal messenger came through. I heard what they said.”
Interest piqued, Tal fumbled for a coin while Athlen leaned hard into his side. He found one and tossed it to the boy. “Go on. Tell us.”
“The prince was assassinated. We might go to war, but the royal family is doing what they can to find a ‘diplomatic option.’ ” He said it as if reciting a lesson from school, making sure to get the words correct. Tal sagged with relief. They weren’t at war yet. They still had time. The boy continued. “My dad said the prince was sickly and he died, and the queen just wants a war. My grandpa said that he was killed because he had magic. Actually, the baker said that too. And the farmer over the hill. Oh, and the tavern keeper.”
Tal’s eyebrows climbed. “They all said that?” The rumors had grown, and they weren’t wrong.
The boy nodded his head like a puppet on a string. “Yes, sir.” He held out his hand, palm open. “I can find out more if you want, for another coin.”
“That won’t be necessary. Thank you.”
On his way out the boy wrinkled his nose. “You look awful, mister,” he said to Athlen. “My mum is a healer. She’s got a tonic that’ll fix you up, if you need it.”
Athlen sagged against the wall. “No, thank you.”
The boy shrugged and ran out, his shoes slapping down the hallway.
Tal’s thoughts spun with the information the boy had provided. His focus shifted, though, when Athlen made a noise of pain and grabbed his leg, his bare toes curling against the wooden floor.
Tal gripped his arm and steadied him.
“You should rest,” Tal said, gesturing to the single narrow bed along the wall. “I’ll get us dinner.”
Athlen stared at the bed. Rainwater dripped from his hair, ran along the soggy planes of his shoulders, and pooled on the wooden floor. The skin around his eyes was dark, and his expression was pinched. He was obviously weary from travel and in pain. He was far from his home and the sea, but none of those things should make him push Tal away. Not after what he’d shared in the cove, about his loneliness and his fear of being left behind. No, there had to be something Athlen was hiding. Tal was certain of it.
“Athlen,” Tal said, nudging him, “please rest.”
Athlen didn’t make a move other than to pluck at the ties of his shirt. Exhausted and irritated, Tal didn’t have the wherewithal to dissect Athlen’s mood. He turned away and stepped out of his boots and socks. Wiggling his wrinkled and pruned toes, he unbuckled his belt and dropped his trousers. They plopped to the ground. He pawed through the saddlebags and pulled out a slightly damp pair and slipped them on.
Next went his shirt. He flung the sodden fabric over his head, glad to be free of it.
He found a light shirt in the supplies from Shay and slipped it on. It was a size too large, and the collar slipped down his collarbone, but it was dry and warm. Straightening, he stopped short when he found Athlen staring, a blush across the line of his cheeks, and his eyes fever-bright.
Oh.
Tal raised both eyebrows. “Athlen?”
He startled and stepped backward, banging into the bed. He shouted a curse and grabbed his leg, flopping onto the hay-stuffed mattress.
“Athlen? Are you okay?”
He nodded, mouth clamped into a thin line. “Fine.”
Tal sighed. He rummaged through the bags and found a pair of dry socks. He crossed the room and sat on the bed. The mattress dipped dangerously beneath the pair of them.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
Athlen fluttered his eyes closed. He rubbed his feet, pressing his fingers into the soles and rubbing his odd thumbs over the tops. “I’m sore. That’s all.”
“That’s not all. You’re not telling me something.”
“Some things you shouldn’t worry yourself with, my prince. Especially with all the other burdens you carry.”
Tal bowed his head. “It wouldn’t be a burden. You’re important to me. I want to help.”
“Not as important as your family, as your kingdom.” Athlen shook his head. “We should focus on getting you home.”
“Athlen,” Tal said on a sigh. “Please.” Sitting close, their thighs bumping together, Tal felt affection and concern stir in his middle. He’d been upset at Athlen’s distance and closed himself off in return, which had led him to ignore Athlen’s warning, but he hadn’t forgotten their time in the cave, and how Athlen’s lips tasted, and how Athlen’s hands had cleverly caressed his skin, his touch cool and soothing over Tal’s aches.
Tal trailed his fingertips over Athlen’s cheek. Athlen didn’t flinch away this time. Instead he nuzzled into the touch, eyes remaining closed, but the wrinkles of pain around his eyes eased. Tal leaned in and kissed Athlen’s jaw, then the corner of his slight smile, then he pressed his open mouth to Athlen’s parted lips.
Athlen sighed into it, melting into the kiss, mouth open and pliant, head tipped back as Tal cradled it, his fingers running through the thick copper hair. Tal pressed a little harder, a little more urgent, a fierce want brewing in his veins.
“I shouldn’t,” Athlen said, lips pink and wet. He brushed Tal’s hair from his eyes. “I shouldn’t.”
“Why?” Tal said. “What has changed?”
“You’re a prince.”
“You knew that from the beginning. I didn’t think you cared about that.”
“I don’t care, but that doesn’t mean that you aren’t one, Tal. You have duties and a life that I don’t understand.”
“You can have a place in the castle—in my life. Once we stop Emerick and save my family and stop this war…”
Athlen smiled. “That’s a nice sentiment.”
“You didn’t want to be left behind. I thought that meant—”
Athlen sighed. He scooted away, then stood, grimacing as he stepped toward the door. “I’ll get our dinner.”
He left without changing out of his wet clothes and with no further explanation. Frustrated, Tal flopped backward onto the sagging mattress and threw his arm over his eyes. He was content to lie there until Athlen returned, but then there would be an awkward conversation about bed sharing, and Tal wasn’t in the mood for that, either.
And who knew what kind of trouble Athlen could find in the span of a few minutes?
Tal sat up and put on the dry pair of socks, then slid his feet into his damp boots. He stomped out of his room and down the stairs.
The tavern had a layout similar to that of the one he had visited with Shay and Garrett. There were two main rooms divided by a single wall near the stairs. A corridor led to the back door and out to the kitchen. Thick red curtains adorned the walls, hanging in parallel lines. Eyebrow raised, Tal guessed the curtains were there for much the same reason that tapestries lined the cold stone of the castle, but after seeing two of the curtains with multiple pairs of feet poking out beneath, and hearing low moans emanating as the fabric moved, his cheeks reddened. Scandalized, Tal turned back toward the main dining area, but he didn’t make it far before a cool hand stole over his mouth. He grunted as he was jerked backward and behind a curtain hung on the wall.
“It’s me,” Athlen whispered low in Tal’s ear.
Tal nodded and Athlen let go.
“What is going on?”
Athlen peeked around the corner of the curtain, then ducked back into the shadows. His face had gone paler, if possible, and he pressed his lips into a thin, bloodless line.
“It’s them.”
Tal shook his head. “Them who?”
“The captain.” Athlen’s throat bobbed, and he flailed his hands in the small space between their bodies. “The ones who had me. The ones who chained me to the floor.” His chest heaved, breaths stuttering out in rapid pants; he was on the verge of panic. He twisted his fingers into a knobby knot.
“Athlen,” Tal said, placing his hand on the center of Athlen’s chest, “did they see you?”
“I… I…” He trembled. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Okay. It’s okay. We’ll leave.”
“We can’t.”
“We can. We’ll go get our things and get out of here before they see you. I won’t let them have you. I will protect you. Understand?”
Athlen’s gaze was far away, honey eyes peering into the middle distance. Tal pinched his arm, and Athlen flinched.
“Listen to my voice,” Tal said, inching closer until his lips were next to Athlen’s ear. “I will shield you. Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
Tal needed to get them out of there. The stairs to the upper floor were across the room from where they hid by the back door, which led to the detached kitchen. The men sat around a table, drinking ale and eating stew. They wouldn’t recognize Tal if he walked past the group to gather his and Athlen’s things.
Athlen clutched Tal’s hand. “Don’t leave me, please.”
“I won’t.”
Crossing the room with Athlen latched to his arm like a hunting bird was out of the question; with his hair and his distinct way of moving, he would be recognized instantly. They could leave their belongings, but all their money was upstairs, and they might need it on the rest of their journey to the castle by the sea.
“We’ll hide.” He patted Athlen’s hand. “We’ll stay right here until they leave.”
“That could be all night.”
“Then it’s all night.”
“What if we’re discovered?”
“Then we act drunk and pretend. I’ll do the talking. But we’re safe right here, right now, and—”
The front door banged open with the driving wind. The curtain blew and shifted, and Tal saw her as she strode in. The hood of her traveling cloak fell in a gust of wind, revealing her wet hair pinned back in an elaborate knot. She kicked the door closed with her heel, then turned, her black eyes ringed with gold alighting on the men at the table. Her features twisted into a feral smile.
Tal’s heart banged against his ribs.
“It’s her,” Tal said.
“Who?”
“The cat shifter from the beach.”
“The one that bit you?” Athlen’s voice went high, and Tal nodded his head sharply.
He shoved Athlen between himself and the wall. He grabbed the edge of the curtain and tucked it around his body, nudging Athlen to do the same on the other side. Luckily, there was a threadbare patch of cloth at Tal’s eyeline, and he peered through it as they huddled together. He strained to hear the conversation over the music and the laughter and the squeals of the revelers.
“My mistress and her family are not pleased.”
“Now, that’s not a proper greeting from a lady, especially not one with such close ties to royalty.” The man Athlen had identified as the captain smiled and tipped back his chair. He thumped his muddy boots on the table, crossing his ankles. “Good evening, milady.” He waved his hand. “See? Not so hard. Your turn.”
Her red lips turned down sharply. “You failed your mission.”
“Well, if your mistress wanted the mission to be a success, she shouldn’t have left payment at the bottom of the Great Bay.”
“You found a way to retrieve it.”
“Yes, we did, and got nothing but trouble. We didn’t know his kind could conjure a squall, but I bet you did.”
Athlen shook his head. “I can’t conjure anything,” he whispered sharply, breath hot on the back of Tal’s neck. “They didn’t listen.”
“Since you failed, and my lady was forced to hire another to complete your task, she wants repayment.”
“Do you hear that, boys? She wants her gold back.”
The group around him laughed timidly, their bravado tempered in the face of her impressive scowl.
Her dark eyes narrowed and her perfectly arched eyebrows drew together. “I’m here to collect either in gold or in flesh.” She drew her hand from underneath her cloak and held it open, palm up. Her black manicured nails grew and curved, sharpening as her skin darkened and furred. Her hand reshaped into a massive paw. “It’s your choice,” she said, her voice low and guttural. A shiver slid down Tal’s spine.
“We lost the gold.” The captain spit on the floor. “Rumor is that fucking Commander Garrett has it. Ask him. Your lady and he are related now, aren’t they?” Tal stiffened. “And I heard that you’ve already gotten your flesh. Zeph’s dead. That could’ve been us.”
“It will be you,” she said, tucking her hand into her sleeve, “if you don’t do what my lady wants next.”
“And what’s that?”
“The boy’s body wasn’t found. The royal family believes him to be dead. They’ve sent a band of knights and soldiers to the border, but they are reluctant to engage Mysten’s army. They’re not convinced by the word of a kidnapper and mercenary about who hired her to kill their youngest brother. At least, not enough to prod them to war.”
The captain shrugged. “What does that have to do with us?”
“My lady wants the border of her kingdom expanded. She wants Mysten’s mines. War is the way to get them, but the royal family of Harth needs one last push.” She leaned in and dragged the tip of her claw down the captain’s scarred face. “You complete the job and your debt is paid. Be warned, however, that there are others who, if they get to him first, will reap the rewards. And you”—she seized his chin in her hand, pinpricks of blood beading where her nails dug into his skin—“will be dead weight.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Another assassination should do the trick.”
“Which one do you want us to kill this time?”
“The bird.”
Tal’s gasp was loud amid the general noise of the room. Athlen clapped a hand over Tal’s mouth and pulled him back into the swaths of fabric. The pair of them waited with bated breath while Tal’s mind reeled with anger and fear. Those mercenaries were going to murder Kest! They were going to hurt his family again!
Tal and Athlen didn’t have to wait long for a response. Footsteps quick and light-headed in their direction, and a pair of heeled boots appeared beneath the sway of the fabric before the curtain was violently swept aside.
The woman stared at Tal with dark, wary eyes, the tip of her sword held solidly between them. The point stood steadfast under Tal’s chin. She was a lady, that Tal could see, not only from the fact that she was a shifter, but also in the bearing of her posture and the way she peered down her nose. She didn’t wear any adornments—no signet ring or necklace with a crest, and thus no indication of her family—but she was noble.
Tal didn’t recognize her.
And she didn’t recognize him, either. As her gaze roved over him, there was no moment of surprise or acknowledgment at seeing the dead prince of Harth, just suspicion at finding two boys amid the red fabric.
Her gaze flickered between the two of them, questioning, and Tal acted before he thought. He boldly grabbed Athlen’s hand and leaned back into the warmth of his body.
“Do you mind?” he asked with a roll of his eyes, affronted and impatient. “My boy and I would like a little privacy. Unless…” He looked her up and down, from the soles of her well-made boots to the thick tangle of her hair at the crown of her head, and tried his best for a leer. “You’d like to watch.”
Athlen caught the hint and wrapped his arm around Tal’s waist, pulling him closer and placing a loud, openmouthed kiss on Tal’s neck.
Her pouty lips curled in revulsion. “Disgusting commoners,” she said with a sneer, dropping the tip of her sword.
The group of mercenaries behind her laughed.
“Run along, peasants. Find a room or a barn.” She reached into a purse at her hip and flipped a coin toward them. Tal caught it, the cool edge of the gold biting into his palm.
He smirked. “Thank you, milady.”
Her eyes flashed, but before she could comment, he ducked his head and dragged Athlen toward the stairs. They hurried up the creaky staircase, not once looking back, and banged into the shared room.
“Pack everything,” Tal commanded, slamming the door and throwing the bolt. “We need to leave and get home. I have to warn Kest.”
Athlen’s hands shook as he stuffed the saddlebags. “They saw me,” he choked out. “They saw me. They won’t let us leave.”
“They might not have recognized you.”
Athlen nodded quickly as he grabbed the thin quilt from the bed and balled it up. Tal didn’t stop him from stealing the blanket, especially as they were about to go back out into the cold, wet weather.
Tal opened his palm, and Ossetia’s stamp gleamed in the low lamplight. He twirled the gold in his fingers. No scuffs. No chips. Uncirculated gold, just as was found on the derelict. Ossetia had hidden shifters among their royal house, and they had paid to have Tal kidnapped and were planning Kest’s murder.
The pounding at the door broke Tal from his thoughts, and he stashed the coin away in his pocket, the gold clinking against the shark’s tooth.
Tal backed away from the door and cast a glance behind him. Athlen clutched the quilt to his chest, his expression blank, his face drained of all color except the bruiselike half circles under his eyes. The only other escape was the shuttered window, and while they might be able to squeeze their way out, the drop was too dangerous.
“Toss the bags out of the window,” Tal said low, jerking his chin to the shutters. “We’ll pick them up on our way out.”
Athlen gulped. The pounding became fiercer, the door shaking in the frame.
“Athlen!” Tal snapped, and Athlen jerked, blinking at Tal, fear a cloud over his features. “It’ll be all right. I promise. Now pull the dagger, and toss the rest out of the window. Understand?”
Athlen shivered, but he nodded. He busied himself with his tasks, and Tal faced the door.
These people had hurt his friend. These people had planned to kill him. These people were after his family. He had hoped he would never be in a situation where he could lose control of his magic again, not after he’d condemned an entire crew to froth and flames, but as the wooden door heaved inward, that eventuality appeared inescapable. Yet in the face of it, cornered with no way out, the choice was startlingly clear. In a game of kill or be killed, Tal would live, and he would ensure anyone he loved would as well, by any means necessary. He wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt him or Athlen again.
He fanned the flame of his magic. It roared to life, kindling from the ever-present flicker of flame in his belly to a wildfire burning down his arms, until his fingers glowed like molten steel.
“Tal?”
“Be ready to run.”
The door shattered inward, the lock giving way from the wood, splintering it, before breaking and falling. A mercenary from the group squeezed through the opening, gleaming weapon in his hand, grim smile twisting across his mouth.
Tal crouched in a fighting stance.
“Oh, what do we have here? Are you going to fight—”
Tal didn’t wait for him to finish the taunt before he conjured a ball of flame and thrust it across the small space, hitting the man in the chest. He screamed and fell backward, short sword falling from his limp hand and clattering on the floor. Tal rushed forward, picked up the weapon, and stabbed the next man who dared try to enter. Blood sprayed when he wrenched the sword free, splattering across the walls and misting Tal’s face.
Tal leaped back when a bull of a woman broke through. But at the sight of Tal with sword in one hand, flames dancing up his other arm, the mercenary stopped in her tracks.
“By the dead gods,” she breathed. “Magic.”
Tal didn’t deny it as he once would have, as he’d been compelled to on Zeph’s ship. No, it was time to start controlling the narrative about magic, even if this pirate didn’t know who he was. “Step aside and I won’t kill you.”
She didn’t hesitate. Raising her hands, she stepped over the body of her fallen compatriot and moved to the corner.
“Is there anyone behind you?”
“No. We thought three would be enough.”
Tal kept his sword point leveled at her. “Don’t look at him.”
She turned her head and stared at the wall.
Tal extinguished his flames, then tossed a glance over his shoulder to spy Athlen holding the dagger close to his chest with both hands, trembling, pale, and unsure.
“We have to run. Can you?”
He nodded, gulping. He reached out and fisted his hand in the back of Tal’s shirt. That was the only signal Tal needed.
They crept from the room into the hallway. Finding it clear, they ran for the stairs. Tal jumped down them, turned sharply, and ran for the back door and the kitchen courtyard. Together, they made it outside into the misting rain, but Athlen’s hold on Tal’s shirt abruptly gave way as Athlen let out a cry.
Tal spun in the mud just as the captain caught Athlen by the arm and swung him into the exterior wall.
One large hand splayed across Athlen’s chest and held him pressed into the daub, while the other twisted Athlen’s wrist, weakening his grip on the dagger. It fell harmlessly to the mud.
Two others charged Tal from the side. He swiped with the sword and met steel in return. As the first man deflected his blow, the second dodged and grabbed Tal in a bear hug, pinning his arms down to his sides. Tal struggled, grunting and twisting, but the larger man had him in a vise grip. Breath squeezing from his lungs, Tal dropped the sword.
“I knew that was you,” the captain said with a deep growl. He gestured to the storm. The rain had calmed to a drizzle, but lightning lit up the clouds as the sky rumbled. “And in the company of a squall, no less. Who are you trying to drown this time?”
“I’m not.” His voice was tinged with fear and desperation, a plea.
Athlen trembled and turned his head away when the captain leaned in to sneer, “Where’s the gold?”
“Gone,” Tal said.
The captain cast a glance over his shoulder. “And how do you know that?”
“He told me.”
“He’s a liar.” He pressed harder on Athlen’s chest, and Athlen’s hand grasped the captain’s wrist. He struggled, breath punched out in a gasp, mouth open as he gulped helplessly. “You’ll pay, boy. I’m certain I can find a use for you.”
“I won’t do it. I won’t go with you.”
“Who says I want you on a boat, where you can sink us again? I’m sure there is a traveling spectacle that would pay money for your kind. An actual merman. It would give me great satisfaction to see you spend your life in chains in a tank of your own filth.”
Athlen fought weakly.
Tal lifted his chin. “Let him go.”
“Or what?” He laughed. “Who are you? His protector? Did he promise you riches? Or was your time behind the curtain riches enough?”
Tal’s gut twisted with fire. “Last warning. Let him go.”
“You’re annoying, protector.” The captain nodded at the man holding Tal. “Kill him. And bring me the chains for this whelp. We’ll take care of the bird, then we’ll figure out what to do with the fish.”
Tal dipped into the embers of his magic. Fire danced down his arms, wreathing his hands in flame. The mercenary holding him yelped, releasing him as his skin burned. Tal dropped to the ground and rolled away in the sludge, grabbing the hilt of the sword and finding his feet. The blade was covered in mud, but it would do, and Tal willed fire to engulf the metal.
“What in the blazes?”
Tal raised his other palm, a ball of fire hovering at his fingertips. “Let him go. And I promise I won’t hurt you.”
Tossing Athlen to the ground, the captain turned and focused his full attention on Tal. In the storm-filtered moonlight Tal appeared as a demon, wreathed in flame and misted with blood. Rain hissed when it hit his skin, and a thick steam surrounded him like ether. He was a wraith, a spirit called forth from beyond to exact vengeance on those who would hurt his family.
“Who are you?” the captain demanded, unafraid despite the specter Tal made. “What are you?”
“Like you said, I’m his protector.”
“I think someone would pay a price for you as well.” He narrowed his eyes. “Not much magic left in the world.”
“I have plenty.”
“I see that. They didn’t find that boy’s body—the magic prince.” He jerked his head to where Athlen lay in a puddle. “Maybe it’s the other way around and he’s your protector.”
“I don’t need protection.” Tal dropped his gaze. “He doesn’t need much either.”
Athlen surged up from the ground, dagger in hand, and plunged it into the meat of the captain’s side. He cried out as Athlen ripped it free and struck him again. Tal threw the fireball at the mountain of a man who had held him. It struck him in the shoulder, and he toppled backward. The third took off running into the night, and Tal let him, concerned only with the two twitching in the mud.
Athlen staggered toward him, face as white as the moon, hands trembling, holding the dagger streaked with dark heart blood. Tal took it from him and wiped the blade on his trouser leg before tucking it into his waistband.
He took Athlen’s hands in his own, squeezing them, pulling him close. His skin was ice. “Are you okay?”
Athlen nodded shakily. “I think so. I don’t…” He swallowed, throat bobbing. “I don’t know.”
“We can’t stay here. There’s more of them and we’re bound to attract attention.”
“Okay. Okay.”
“You’re safe. Understand? You’re safe and we’re running. Let’s get to the mare.”
Tal laced his fingers with Athlen’s and tugged him into action, sword in one hand. They ran to the side of the building and scooped up their saddlebags and the quilt. The mare awaited them in the stable, and between the two of them, they made quick work of saddling her. It wasn’t the safest rig, and the saddlebags had to be wedged between them, but they took off into the night, the shouts of Athlen’s would-be captors echoing behind them.
They rode. An hour turned into two and bled into three. The night darkened, but the storm cleared, and the moon and the stars lit their way. Once Tal deemed them far enough away, he reined in the mare and coaxed her to the side of the road.
He needed to regroup. They both did.
Tal slid off her back and held his hand out for Athlen. He took it, and Tal helped him to the mossy ground.
“I’m sorry,” Athlen said, voice tight. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”
“It’s all right, Athlen.” Tal wiped his face with his sleeve, staining the fabric with a mixture of blood and mud. He grimaced. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
Athlen twisted his hands into knots and pulled the quilt tighter around him. “I don’t know. I don’t—I want to stop shaking. I want to stop thinking about being chained to the deck and thrown overboard whenever they wanted me to search the seafloor. Or being trapped in a tank for the rest of my life.” He shuddered.
“Can I touch you?” Tal asked, stepping closer.
“Yes.”
Tal wrapped his arms around Athlen’s shaking body and held on. “I’ve got you.”
“I know.” His breath was cool on Tal’s neck. “For how long?”
“Until you tell me to let go.”
“Oh.” Athlen rested his forehead on Tal’s shoulder. “We need to get to your family’s home. There are others after your brother.”
“Yes. And we’ll start again in a few minutes, but let me hold you.”
Athlen melted into Tal’s embrace. “Okay. But only for a few minutes.”
Tal swept his hands along the line of Athlen’s spine. “A few minutes, then.”
As the adrenaline bled off, Tal’s aches and pains returned in full force, and fatigue settled across his shoulders like a weight. Resting against Athlen, Tal closed his eyes and dreamed of the time when they would reach the castle, and everything would be behind them, and they could be together without the fate of the continent looming over them.
Tal was loath to release Athlen when he deemed their respite completed, but he finally did. Together, they fixed their awful saddling of the mare and reattached the saddlebags. Tal changed his shirt to rid himself of the mud and tacky blood clinging to his skin. Athlen rewrapped himself in the quilt and perched at Tal’s back.
With a cluck of Tal’s tongue, they were back on their journey, racing toward the castle and their fate.