It had started to snow, large flakes pelting him in the face and gathering in his hair. He pulled his hood up, drawing his cloak around him as the wind whipped and snow stuck to his face and hair.
He started walking, uncertain which direction to take. Behind him, he could see the Limerian palace in the distance—a massively tall black castle looming over the village, its dark, spikey towers slicing into the night sky. He wondered if his father had noticed his absence yet. Magnus touched his bandaged cheek and turned away from the castle. No, he’d never go back. He’d rather freeze to death than see his father ever again.
He walked in circles, trying to come up with a plan, trying to figure out a way to board a ship without a single coin to spend or a single possession to his name other than the clothes on his back. The night grew darker, and when Magnus stopped his aimless wandering for a moment, he looked around and realized with a sickening feeling in his gut that he was lost.
A shout to his left caught his attention, coming from the alley in between two village shops. Tentatively, he moved close enough to peer down the corridor.
It was the man who’d taken his pouch of coins earlier. A much larger man had him pressed up against the outside of a building. He held a large silver dagger with a crimson-colored hilt to his throat. In his other hand was Magnus’s pouch.
“You must have more,” the larger man snarled. “C’mon, be a nice fella and share your riches.”
“It was a kid,” the first man sputtered. “I got that from a little kid.”
“Sure you did.”
The first man turned and met Magnus’s gaze. “That kid right there!”
The thief’s attention shifted to Magnus. Magnus grimaced as he saw the massive scar over the thief’s entire left cheek.
“Well, look at that,” the thief said, raising a thick black eyebrow. “You are a little kid.”
The first man took the opportunity to shove the thief and slip away.
Magnus raised his hands, fighting back tears. “Don’t hurt me.”
The thief weighed the coin pouch in his hand and studied Magnus’s cowering form. “I don’t hurt kids. Actually I don’t hurt anyone, despite what you just saw. Intimidation, sure. But nobody’s blood will spill because of me.” He showed Magnus the dagger. “I painted the hilt red to remind me of that. I spilled plenty of blood in the past, but that part of my life is over.”
“Papa,” a small voice said from the shadows. “Can I come out now?”
The thief hissed out a sigh. “Not yet, Kara.”
“I’m already out.” A little blond girl came to the man’s side, putting her hand into his as he sheathed his dagger. “Who’re you?” she asked Magnus.
Her light, golden hair—it reminded him so much of the princess in the south. Just the sight of it calmed him.
Before he could reply, likely with the first lie that came to him about his true identity, the thief spoke.
“What? You don’t recognize the heir to the throne, the son of King Gaius Damora himself?” The thief bowed his head. “Greetings, Prince Magnus. May I be so bold as to ask what you’re doing out on such a foul evening?”
Magnus stared at him with shock and more than a trace of panic circling in his gut. “You know who I am?”
“I do. I worked for your father until recently. I was one of those guards that little princes like you take no notice of.” He paused, as if waiting for this to sink in. “This isn’t a safe place for you, your grace.”
“I’m not afraid.” Even as he said it, he heard the shameful tremor in his voice that belied this claim.
“Oh, but you should be.”
Magnus tried to look as regal and composed as his father always demanded he appear. If this man had been a palace guard, surely he knew how to take orders. “What is your name?”
The man bowed his head. “I am Calum Stolo, your grace. And this is my daughter, Kara.”
It was working. He kept this command in his voice, trying to feel much more mature and poised than a seven-year-old boy. “Very good. Calum, I command you to find me passage aboard a ship bound for Auranos. I wish to leave immediately.”
“Mm hmm.” Calum glanced down at his daughter. “What do you think I should do?”
Kara shrugged. “Get him to a ship?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why did you run away?” Kara asked him.
Again, her hair made him think of Auranos—its warm days, green meadows, and constant blue sky. “Because I hate my father.”
“Everyone hates your father,” Calum said, then frowned. “Well, not everyone. Some are just afraid of him. But I know one thing about King Gaius that leads me not to do as you request, your grace.”
Disappointment crashed through him, and Magnus turned a sharp look up at the tall man. “What?”
“If he finds out his only son and heir has gone missing, he will personally tear all three kingdoms of Mytica apart from north to south searching for you. Do you have any idea how many people would get hurt? Killed? All because you decided you wanted to leave your pampered, privileged life?”