Page 4 of Joined By Magic

The prince’s rage flared up again, and I braced. Outside of bedroom games, he hadn’t slapped me in weeks. His hand twitched, and I saw the moment he almost lashed out but caught himself. My mouth went dry. I needed to be very, very careful. The prince felt wrong, as if something inside him had snapped. Sadness edged in alongside my fear. We’d grown so comfortable and happy together in the palace. I didn’t want to fear him again.

I glanced around, searching for a safer subject. “Where are we?”

“The Numbaron desert. Close to the Alarian border. We’ll rest here for a few hours.”

“And then go into Alaria?”

He let out an irritated huff. “Quiet. Prepare me some food. I need to think and recoup my strength.”

He flicked a hand at the bags and turned away.

I stared at his back for a few moments, irritation at his curt dismissal freezing my limbs. Eventually, self-preservation won out, and I fell to the task of rifling through the bag. Clothes, packaged food, and my eyes widened as I took in a vast amount of cash. High-value notes in several different currencies. Enough to keep us living well for months—years if we were careful—and that was only what my bag contained.

A desolate sense of loneliness settled over me as I organized the meal in tense silence. In the palace, companionship surrounded me all the time. The Collection girls, my sister, daily conversations with Neeve and my family. At the end of a busy day, I was content to be whatever the prince needed from me. A sharp gaming companion, a quiet sounding board for his worries, or an object for him to tease, torment, and fuck.

Now, I only had him. In his current unstable frame of mind, a grim prospect. But what had I expected? I’d known from the moment he conceived his plan that it could go wrong. Was I expecting him to comfort me, to hold my hand and calmly walk me through our options? Of course not. For now, keeping him calm was my best option. Once he got over the shock, maybe things would begin to feel right again, and I might persuade him to do something for Pia . . . if anything could be done.

I put together a quick meal of crisp bread with a sweet, sticky paste and dried fruit, then emptied the rest of the bag. Four different sets of fake identity papers, and a selection of plain clothing—the sort I’d seen in Alarian media. I was right. We must be headed there. Despite the miserable circumstances, excitement prickled under my skin at the notion.

In my mind, Alaria was almost a mythical place. Somewhere you heard about but could never go. The beating heart of the world, it was a vast, wealthy, modern territory where non-mages commanded respect and could even obtain positions of authority.

The prince turned, eyed the food with a sigh, and nodded at the clothing. “Get changed.”

He settled awkwardly on the floor to eat, and I frowned as I spotted a red stain on his collar. “Your Highness, are you hurt?”

He remained silent for a moment before answering, his voice icy. “My brother’s whore stabbed me in the neck.”

I gasped and leaned forward. “Are you—”

“I’m fine. She only nicked me, but the distraction let Garron make his move. He took out one of my men, which freed a portion of my brother’s power. Four of my men dead. I barely survived.”

He spoke without emotion, the words falling into the silence like stones.

I tried to find a thread of optimism. “At least you escaped.”

“I shouldn’t have trusted him with so much of the plan. He knew of all my safe houses, everywhere I’d stocked with supplies and equipment.”

As that new piece of bad news joined the rest, I shed the beautiful dress and pulled on a drab outfit. Black trousers, a nondescript maroon T-shirt, flat ankle boots, and a black cardigan. Workers’ clothes. I folded up the purple gown with extreme care. When would I have the chance to wear something like that again?

Time to reconnect with reality. The prince wouldn’t have a clue how to live in the real world. His entire life, servants had done whatever he wanted at the wave of a hand. If he needed something, it appeared. Had he ever set foot in a shop? Made a meal himself? Probably not.

The prince finished his food and opened his own bag, pulling out dark trousers, a light blue shirt, and a coat. I rubbed my hands together as he turned his back to me and changed, the desert chill biting even with the new layers.

When he spun to face me, I covered my mouth with my hand, battling shock at the change in his appearance. The clothes fit him well, and his tall, powerful figure was still imposing, but he looked strange. Foreign. More like his brother than ever. It was a costume, a fancy dress outfit. Not him.

A wind gust whipped sand into my face. The prince waved a hand and a shield sprung up over us, blocking the onslaught. He stood tense, his forehead creased in thought. I waited, unwilling to disturb him, although his earlier burst of anger seemed to have cooled.

He stared out at the desert as he spoke. “I have a house at the far eastern edge of Alaria, in the mountains. Near the mining town of Ghasul but isolated. I bought it on the suggestion of an old schoolhouse friend but never made time to go.”

I rose and stood beside him, staring through the shield at the flat landscape. “What’s special about the house?”

He met my gaze, and now he just looked weary. Beyond weary. Exhausted. “It’s on a lake that houses razorbacks. Large predator fish, very rare. They can grow to ten feet long. They’ve always interested me.”

I thought of the prince’s aquarium, which he tended so carefully. Would all the fish die now?

He continued. “I didn’t mention the purchase to anyone besides my friend, and he died five years ago. It’s empty. We won’t have to deal with people who might think to turn us in for a reward.”

Turn us in. Our new fugitive status sank in more with each breath. My shock was fading, turning to nerves in my stomach and a brain running overtime with ideas. “Can we teleport there? From here, I mean. In jumps?”

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