Page 8 of Heartbreak Prince

He leaps onto the woven surface, cursing, taking up a position on his hands and knees. The uniformed attackers were momentarily delayed, but they’re racing toward us now, faster than humans should be able to run.

“Go, go!” I scream as I leap behind the prince, throwing an arm around his waist.

“Fly,” he orders the carpet, and it lurches into motion just in time. Long nails rake across the edge of the carpet, but they slide off, and it keeps soaring upward. My stomach thrills with the terrifying speed of the ascent, and I tighten my grip on Vawn’s waist.

“Head for the biggest skylight. The one in the middle,” I say. “Get me close enough to punch out the glass. And hurry. If they have any ranged magic left, they’ll be sending it our way. I wonder if the bottom of this carpet is reinforced. Some of them have shielding.”

A voice replies, and at first I think it’s the prince, but although it’s male, it’s far too haughty and peevish, even for him.

“I do have limited shielding on the bottom, and safety handles on the top,” the carpet says. “However, you two didn’t bother to check which side of me you’re sitting on. I regret to inform you that you have me upside down.”

“Like it really fucking matters,” says Vawn.

“It absolutely matters,” the carpet retorts. “Precision is key, particularly in matters of safety and survival.”

It rises higher, bringing me within punching distance of the skylight. I can feel the warning tingle of my invulnerability and strength wearing off, so I yell, “Duck,” to Vawn and slam my fist through the glass. Shards hail around us, and pain spears through the back of my left shoulder.

“Shit, they’re on carpets, too,” the prince warns.

“One minute.” I break a few more pieces out of the skylight frame, clearing our path. “Okay, go!”

The carpet sails out through the opening, rising above the domed roof and twinkling spires of the Lyre & Vice. In the darkness, many of the carpet’s fibers glow, a telltale sign of the unicorn hair used in his fabrication. His center is rich blue, with a red and gold border.

“Where are we headed on this fine evening?” he asks.

“Home,” Vawn says.

“No, we can’t go to the palace.” I glance back, dismayed to see two carpets emerging from the skylight. “Just go anywhere. Run.”

“I can’t very well run, as I do not possess legs or feet,” says the carpet.

“Flee, then! Fly! Fucking go!”

“Swearing doesn’t make me go faster, young lady.” But the carpet streaks away from the Lyre & Vice, toward a broad expanse of dark forest.

There aren’t many clouds tonight, which is unfortunate. We could have used the cover. As it is, I’m not sure how to evade our pursuers. I’ve had some training with magic carpets, but they were old, utilitarian models with very little magic left, nowhere near as luxurious or fast as the ones I released. Only one of them could speak, and it had a very limited vocabulary.

“How cooperative are the other carpets?” I ask. “Will they follow orders, or could they be persuaded to ditch their riders?”

“If you have any experience with my kind, you’ll know that when we are infused with consciousness, we are also imprinted with a sense of duty to our riders. Many carpets have inhibitor strands as well, to ensure their compliance. A carpet with no rider may do as it pleases, but once we are transporting a human, we are bound to carry them wherever they wish to go. Those carpets will follow us until their riders command them to stop.”

“Wonderful. Just perfect. Can you try to lose them?”

“Do you want me to try, or do you want me to lose them?” the carpet says, with forced patience.

“Do it. Evade them, lose them, get us away from them. Please.”

“It seems you’ve remembered your manners. I’d suggest you hang on, but since you were so careless as to mount me upside down, there are no loops or handles to hang onto. So I will merely wish you good luck. Should you tumble off, I will not return for you.”

“Oh shit,” mutters the prince, and he lunges forward, seizing the front two tassels with both hands. I throw my arms around his waist as the carpet launches himself forward, blazing across the sky at a terrifying speed. I can hardly breathe through the wind streaking past my face. Tears whip from my eyes, and I have to close them tight.

The carpet swerves to the right, then ducks down before banking sharply upward. I want to open my eyes, to help fight off our pursuers, but at this speed, I’d only end up flying off the carpet and being impaled on some forest treetop.

“I’m going to be sick,” rasps the prince.

“Vomit on a single fiber of mine, and you’ll wish you were dead,” the carpet tells him pleasantly.

“You’re not a normal carpet,” Vawn replies.