Page 37 of Heartbreak Prince

“Don’t sound so fucking surprised,” he mutters.

“There aren’t any foals here, so it should be safe to stay in this clearing for a while,” I muse. “The unicorns won’t be back for hours, and their scent will keep other beasts away.”

Vawn unrolls the damaged carpet while I open the little pouch on my belt where I keep a few sewing supplies. I only have two needles, one for thin types of cloth and the other for thick materials. I choose the larger of the two and slip the end of a unicorn hair through its eye.

“What are you two planning?” asks the carpet in a faint, thready voice. “Please tell me you are not going to make some clumsy attempt to repair me. Did you learn nothing from what I shared about the intricacies of carpet weaving? Are you so full of hubris that you believe your clumsy ministrations are equal to the skill of trained crafters?”

“I am pretty full of hubris,” I say blandly, draping the carpet over my lap and aligning the damaged corner. “Be still, so I can get this right.”

“You won’t get it right. You’re going to mess up the pattern. I won’t be able to fly properly.”

“Will you be able to fly improperly?”

The carpet’s tassels bristle. “I don’t even know what you mean by that. Yes, I might be able to fly, but—”

“Improper flight suits us just fine,” I cut in. “We need to put more distance between us and the place where we entered the forest.”

“My glow will attract the eyes of your pursuers,” says the carpet.

“Yes, we’ll be more visible above the canopy, but if we stay down here, we’re going to be trampled by unicorns or eaten by panthers or wolves. At least in the sky, we can weave among the hills and hopefully lose anyone who tries to follow us. Now hold still.”

I do my best to stitch the nearly-severed corner back on, but when we’re finally airborne again, the carpet flies erratically—or drunkenly, as Vawn puts it. The motion is so bad that I have to close my eyes and breathe deeply to fight off the nausea in my stomach.

“I think you’re exaggerating the problem on purpose,” I groan after an especially dizzying drop and swerve.

“I am simply welcoming you to the consequences of your actions,” says the carpet. “I’m beginning to wish you had never smashed that aerie and let me out.”

“What a coincidence, I was just wishing the same thing. In fact, I was wishing that I had grabbed onto literally any other carpet. Something more docile.”

“Then you would both already be dead,” Severin snaps. “My speed, my evasive skills, my capacity for independent thought, and my keen understanding of humans are all of inestimable value to fugitives such as yourselves.”

“And we are grateful,” Vawn says.

My stomach lurches as the carpet veers dramatically to the left. “Careful, kiss-ass,” I mutter to the prince. “I might vomit on you, completely by accident.”

8

“Zeletas lies across a deep gorge and boasts a single bridge as an access point,” intones Severin as he dips and dodges along the rocky hillside. “It faces the Farrow Foothills with its back to the Red Mountains, specifically the sheer Ashblade Cliffs. The winds that rush through the gorge and scour the cliffs make it difficult for magic carpets to reach the city. Even wyverns struggle to navigate the brutal gusts and deadly currents of air that threaten to twist their wings and dash their bodies against the stone.

“Every year, contests are held in which the kingdom’s most skilled climbers attempt to scale the rock face, starting from the river at the bottom of the gorge to the top of Zeletas’s walls, which rise smoothly out of the stone as if the city grew naturally from the mountainside. Every year, men and women die trying to conquer the cliffs.”

The carpet continues to narrate the history of the city as we meander erratically into the highest of the foothills, approaching the mouth of the bridge to Zeletas. Both the prince and I are dreadfully motion-sick. When the carpet declares he can’t fly any closer without being spotted and lands in a glade just off the main road, we crawl off him into the grass and lie blessedly still for several minutes, letting our brains and stomachs settle.

“As we approach, you’ll notice several gondola lines,” continues the carpet. “On fine days, when the wind is moderate, the gondolas are operational, carrying tourists and merchandise to and from the city. Despite its limited accessibility, Zeletas is a hub of commerce and remains very popular with tourists, especially the fashion-conscious set. Another of its main exports is high-quality glyph paint, produced at the headquarters of the Rauveron Guild, the largest association of nail set suppliers in this kingdom and the surrounding nations.”

“There’s bound to be unrest because of the coup.” I roll onto my back and stare up at the pale blue of the late afternoon sky. “And those purple soldiers might look for you here, Vawn, since we were spotted near the Farrow Foothills. We’ll have to be careful. In fact, we should assume disguises.”

The prince groans, sitting up in the grass. “I don’t want to wear another cheap, disgusting mask.”

“Have you been here before?”

“It’s the fashion capital of the kingdom. Of course I have.”

“All the more reason to assume a disguise. And even if you hadn’t visited, your image is well-known. You’re the prince everyone likes to gossip about, so you’re recognizable.” I untie the long black sash I took off the female soldier in the forest. “I’ll wrap your head and face in the Xarsian style.”

“Excellent idea,” says the carpet. “With their fair complexions and underground lifestyle, the people of Xarsi can barely handle a hint of sun or wind on their skin. The citizens of Zeletas will think you’re a tourist from that country.”

“I don’t like it,” Vawn mutters.