A nobody with no title, no home, no family . . . and no future.
He took a quick left at a crossroads and dashed in front of several men unloading heavy sacks from the back of a wagon.
“Stop that boy!” Livius yelled from an uncomfortably close distance behind him, but Magnus didn’t dare look. The men with the sacks glanced at him curiously, but they made no move to stop him.
Running like a common thief in an unfamiliar city. The experience was utterly foreign to Magnus, and he despised every moment of this hateful day.
That witch would pay with her life for this.
As much as Magnus also loathed his life at the palace, apart from spending time with Lucia, his days were dependable and predictable. He liked knowing where he was, who surrounded him, and what might be waiting around the next corner. And he liked knowing that his future as the next king was set. One day he would rule, and the power his father had would be his.
Here, there were no such guarantees.
Magnus reached a fork in the road. He hesitated for just a second—but it was a second too long. Livius grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him backward. Magnus tried to shove him away, but Livius took a handful of his hair—constantly overdue for a cut, as his sister was fond of reminding him—and dragged him off the street into an alley, away from any witnesses. Magnus dropped his cloak as he tried and failed to fight back.
“Get the pouch, Maddox,” Livius snarled. “Be swift about it; they’re right behind us.”
Magnus blinked. Who was right behind them?
Maddox was by his guardian’s side in an instant. But just before he made a move to take the coins away from Magnus, someone shouted from the direction of the road.
“Livius! Trying to get away from us, are you?”
“Curse it,” Livius muttered. At the sound of the voice, he’d frozen in place while still keeping a painful grip on Magnus’s hair.
Three huge men loomed at the entrance to the alleyway, each seemingly larger than the last.
“Get away from you, Benito?” Livius raised his voice, sharing a quick—and, Magnus thought, worried—glance with Maddox. “Not at all. Didn’t even realize you were following me.”
“That’s good to know.” Benito, his thick arms folded over his thick chest, smiled a mouthful of sharp-looking teeth. “Figured you were trying to avoid us. Again.”
“No, no. Of course not.”
“Where’s our money?”
Livius finally let go of him, his attention on the men, and Magnus quickly tucked the pouch of coins down the front of his shirt.
Livius then sent a glare at Magnus. “Give me the pouch.”
Magnus spread his empty hands. “What pouch?”
Livius’s face reddened and his eyes blazed. “The pouch of coins, you imbecile.”
Magnus began backing away. “I don’t think I can assist. Perhaps you can find some other innocent civilian to rob today, sir. But I have no coin on me.”
“Trying to rob from children, Livius?” Benito asked drily. “Why am I not surprised?”
“The boy is a liar. He stole my money. Your money.”
“Did he.” Benito’s attention didn’t shift from Livius. “Even if that’s true, one hundred silver coins is only a fraction of your gambling debts. Twice now we’ve come to collect, warning you what would happen if you didn’t give us exactly what we need. Cena’s patience with you is running out.”
Livius’s face had turned a rather unpleasant shade of burgundy. “I’ll get the money. I’ll get every coin he lent me, I will! But I need more time.”
“How much more time?”
“I . . .” Livius sent a panic-tinged look toward Maddox. “I . . . I . . . don’t know, exactly. Not much time.”
“I . . . I . . . I . . .” Benito said mockingly, and his grin widened. “That’s an excellent suggestion, Livius. Perhaps that might be a suitable reminder of your outstanding debt to my employer. An eye . . . eye . . . eye.” He raised a thick brow. “And I’ll even let you choose: your left or your right?”
A glint of metal drew Magnus’s eyes to the dagger that Benito pulled from the sheath on his belt.
“Maddox,” Livius whispered. “Do something!”
“I—I don’t think I can,” Maddox said, his voice strained.
“Useless maggot. Do something!”
“I’m trying, really, but nothing’s happening.”
Benito shook his head. “How pathetic, Livius, asking a mere boy to save you from your own mistakes.” The man nodded at Maddox. “Take off, child. Meet up with your father later. I don’t believe that children should be witness to violence.” He shot a look at Magnus. “You too.”
“He has the money!” Livius screeched as Benito’s henchmen took hold of him.
“And he can keep it.” Benito flicked a hand at Magnus. “Go and enjoy your profits, little thief. Perhaps I’ll deal with you another day.”
Little? Magnus was nearly the man’s height—in fact, he’d grown several inches this year alone, making him nearly as tall as his father. How deeply offensive.
However, he chose not to say so aloud.
“Much gratitude,” Magnus said instead, nodding.