Page 76 of Heartbreak Prince

“You need healing.” Severin moves forward, gradually picking up speed.

“There are no healers out here, and precious few in the kingdom,” I mutter. “Forget it. I will have to recover on my own.”

“I might know a place with a healer.”

I sigh, closing my eyes briefly, letting my body relax against his soft fibers. “No. Once we rescue the prince, we must head straight for Anyssir Castle. He needs friends and allies, people who can help him reclaim his throne.”

“Are you sure that’s what he wants?”

“What’s the alternative? Disappear into some other kingdom? Spend his whole life looking over his shoulder for assassins?” I bite back a moan as the carpet dips toward the treetops, flying along the canyon. “Besides, I thought he spent his life wishing for the position that his father and his brothers had.”

“Then you weren’t listening,” says the carpet blandly. “He spent his life trying to get their attention and earn their approval. He wanted that more than the crown.”

I imagine Vawn slouched on a throne, shirtless, decked out in countless necklaces and bracelets, pinching a charna cigarette between fingers adorned with rings and tipped with pleasure glyphs. I picture his crown sitting at a rakish angle on his dark hair, his face still framed by those pink strands. I see his full lips pronouncing the most lenient judgments, speaking the silliest laws into existence.

I dare not laugh at the vision, because it will hurt, but I can’t help grinning. “He might make an awful king at first. But I think he could learn.”

“You believe humans can change.” The carpet’s tone is crisp and disapproving.

“You don’t?”

“I am something more and less than human, and therefore I am in no place to judge.”

“But you will anyway.”

“Of course.”

I do chuckle this time, and I pay for it with a flash of pain through my torso.

“Hang on,” advises the carpet. “I’m going to fly a little faster. And while we travel, I will tell you the story of your betrayal.”

I renew my grip on the handles, clenching my teeth against the pain, while Severin describes the scene in Gwin’s house right after I left for the woodshed.

“She ceased working on me immediately,” he says. “My repair was already complete. Everything she did to me for that last hour was unnecessary embellishment and reinforcement. I won’t deny that I enjoy a little extra ornamentation as much as the next carpet, but if I had known why she was extending the task, I would have tried to protest, despite the effect of the unicorn hoof.”

“It’s all right,” I reply.

“After you left the house, Gwin sent her children upstairs and told her oldest boy to play the fiddle for the young ones so they could dance. I suppose she did not want them to see or hear the consequences of her treachery. She abandoned me on the table and began to pace back and forth, seeming quite unsettled. The hunters must have finished with you quickly, though, because it wasn’t long before one of them rapped at the front door.”

“One of them?”

“The other went around to the back door. From what I could hear, the prince tried to leave by that route as soon as he heard the knock. A fight ensued—glyphs used on both sides. Once their magic was spent, they struggled hand-to-hand, all the way down the hall and into the front room. The prince fought like a beast, but they overcame him. He screamed for you at the end. He said if they had hurt you, he would eviscerate them, cut off their balls and their nipples—all sorts of unpleasant things. He called down a thousand curses upon their heads. Gwin told the hunters to shut him up, and they finally knocked him out. They discussed their travel plans with her, advising her how long it might take for them to transport him to Zeletas or Kyr, and she made them swear to come back afterward and deliver her share of the reward.”

“I doubt they will.”

“You’re probably right,” Severin agrees. “After they left, it was quiet for a while. I was conscious of everything unfolding and I wanted to move or speak, but I could not… until I heard your call. It was like a rope tied to one of my tassels, pulling me toward you. I found that I was able to slide out from beneath the hoof’s weight, bit by bit, until I got free. One of the younger children had come down for a drink of water, and he laughed in delight when he saw me fluttering near the door. I convinced him to let me out.”

“His mother won’t be pleased about that.”

“If he hadn’t been there, I would have found a way to get to you, even if I had to go up the filthy chimney.” The carpet shivers at the idea.

“I appreciate your loyalty.” I smooth my hand across his surface. “You saved my life. Again.”

“Until I met the two of you, I never had the chance to save anyone,” Severin replies. “Being of such vital use is a greater satisfaction than I anticipated. And now we must both save the young prince. If you can handle a bit more speed, I will go faster. Let me know if it’s too much.”

I put my head down and shut my eyes, focusing all my strength on the handles. The carpet curves his front edge a bit to shield me from the wind of his speed, and he zooms ahead with all the urgency I could wish for.

The intensity of the pain in my body makes my brain circle back to the carpet’s suggestion—that we find a healer. Healing glyphs are rarely used in this kingdom or any other, because they don’t work without a special morpheme, an add-on symbol that siphons the life energy of their user. That life energy can’t be replaced. In order to heal someone, the healer must give their own life force, which, depending on the severity of the wound, can take hours, days, weeks, or even years off their lifespan. It’s a sacrifice few are willing to make.