Heir of the Gods

Ch. 17: Warhorse

Calix was up, dressed and had his armor packed and sent to the stables before dawn broke over Levitum on the day he was to leave for Mortania. As much as he wasn't looking forward to what he would undoubtedly find in Antelium, it was far preferable to the snake pit he was currently trapped in.

He had just finished lacing his boots when the lock on his door rattled, the sound so light as to be suspicious. Calix narrowed his eyes, picking up a dagger when the lock rattled again. Making his steps silent, he made his way to the door, listening for the span of a breath.

A low voice said, "It's not wise to keep me waiting, General."

Lip curling in an automatic sneer, Calix jerked open the door to reveal Prince Marcus standing outside his room. There were shadows under his eyes and a yellowing bruise around the split lip Calix had given him four days ago. 

The prince's gaze flicked down to the knife in Calix's hand and he smiled wryly. "For some reason, I doubt that's how you greet my sister when she comes up here." He tilted his head toward the closed door of the bedchamber. "What would you do if I asked if she was in there?"

She had actually left not an hour before, having spent a majority of the night saying goodbye. They had only managed maybe three hours of actual rest, but Calix was trying not to think of how right it had felt, falling asleep with her in his arms.

Calix only sighed and turned around, stalking back toward the chairs in front of the empty fireplace. The sound of a quiet laugh made him scowl, but he didn't say anything as he buckled on his swordbelt. A near-silent step behind him had him turning sharply to find the prince barely two feet away from him.

It was unnerving how much he favored his sister. Same honey eyes, same mouth, same rich, chocolate-colored hair. But there was something cold about the prince that Cassia didn't share. Something that reminded Calix of a few soldiers he had known.

Something that made him suspect the prince knew what blood felt like when it ran between your fingers.

"When you get to Antelium," the prince said, "you'll find several weak points in the western wall. Drains. Each is only big enough for one man to pass through at a time. They feed right to the Carmilion River."

How did Marcus know anything about Antelium? More importantly, why would he bother to rise before the sun just to tell Calix something he would have known with a simple scouting mission?

Calix could only blink stupidly at the prince for a moment. Then he shook his head. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I read military reports, General," the prince said carelessly. "Unlike most of the puffed-up magpies who run a majority of my father's forces, you and your General Malcinius have rather a penchant for showing some intelligence and... a flare for the unconventional."

Narrowing his eyes, Calix held his silence, not quite knowing how to respond. But then he didn't have to.

"By which you mean he doesn't care to go charging in headlong and getting everyone killed."

They both turned to find Tarquin lingering in the door, his dark gaze glued to the prince. Calix's heart fluttered with nerves as Marcus turned slowly to face the other man, his cold eyes calculating.

"Something like that," he said softly, his tone making a chill skitter down Calix's spine. Or maybe that was just the assessing way the prince was watching his friend—like he was deciding which poison would work best on him.

In an effort to draw the prince's attention back toward himself, Calix asked, "Why are you telling me this, Your Highness?"

Marcus continued to watch Tarquin for a moment much too long to be comfortable before he finally returned his attention to Calix. Cocking his head, he let an amused smile tug at the corner of his mouth.