“Not at all. I could sleep through anything,” she replied in the darkness.
Sol smiled despite the pain in his heart. He knew she could sleep through anything.
Finding his way through the room. He pulled the tinderbox from the corner of the desk, intending to strike a spark so he could light the candle.
His hand stilled. This was a noisy task.
Stepping silently to the door, he ensured the latch was locked closed.
He was being over cautious, but something felt wrong.
Kissing Meena had awakened desires he sought to avoid. Like the desire to survive this mission even that meant failing it.
He walked back over to the small table. He could use his magic to light the candle.
He needed to refocus his mind on what was truly important.
Holding his hands in front of him, he began to draw on the dwindling harmony within him to create a small glowing orb of light. Placing it gently over the wick of a tall candle, he waited for the flame to catch.
It sparked with a hiss that sounded obnoxiously loud in the quiet room. He jumped.
“Get some sleep, too, Sol,” Meena whispered. “We need you well rested for tomorrow night.”
“I will,” Sol replied automatically, even though he intended to do no such thing. He straightened a piece of parchment on the table and pulled out the chair to sit down.
Suddenly, the door to their room burst open with enough force to break the lock and the latch.
Meena screamed.
Sol swung toward the intruder, instantly funneling his magic into the small orb of light he already carried so that it glowed brighter.
The light illuminated the terrifying sight of several Falqri soldiers pouring into the room. Sol pushed the orb of light into their faces, hoping to blind them as it was the only thing he had access to.
Reaching behind him, he grabbed the now lit candle and moved into the defensive stance which was more natural to him than walking.
Multiple soldiers were already upon him.
He tipped the candle forward, brandishing the flame in the face of the soldier nearest him.
The man flinched, but pushed forward, swiping the candle out of the way and simultaneously putting out the flame.
As the soldiers grabbed his arms, he twisted them out of the way, responding quickly and effectively against their attack.
But there was only so much one man could do in a crowded room filled with his enemies.
Within moments, he found himself forced to his knees while his arms were bound behind his back and a familiar weight settled around his neck.
They had locked his magic.
“Unhand the Prince of Iseldis!” Meena shouted.
Sol could not see her through the crowd of soldiers, especially from his position on the floor. He struggled against the binding on his wrists.
He always known they would come for him, but he had never imagined they would come for Meena.
Not the cheerful, loyal, self-giving, seeker of justice who had been the best companion these last few blissful days.
“Unhand the Princess of Iseldis!” a new voice called out. It took Sol a moment to recognize the voice as Jules’s. His commanding tenor was far more powerful than his flattering host voice. Even Sol paused for a moment at his order.
