Wrapping his hands around the handle of his blade, Caelan pulled his sword and smiled. There had not been enough opportunities to get payback for the murder of his mother and the murder of his fellow Erya citizens.
Before they could take a step forward to engage the soldiers, gunfire rang out, bullets raining down from the second-floor windows of several buildings. The remaining four soldiers were killed in a flash, their bodies left bleeding and still in the middle of the street.
Caelan found himself sandwiched between Rayne and Drayce in a heartbeat as they turned as one, trying to spot the shooters. No one was seen on the second floor, but doors opened a moment later. People wearing dark-green cloths over the lower halves of their faces ran past them toward the bodies, grabbing them up and hauling them off the street.
A smaller person with a green cloth over the bottom of their face ran up to them and stopped; Drayce lifted one of his guns to point it right at the figure’s forehead. The newcomer lifted both empty hands in surrender.
“Please, Your Majesty, we need to get you off the street. Hurry,” a male voice in low tones urged. He backpedaled, waving for them to follow.
Rayne growled deep in his throat before grabbing Caelan’s wrist and following the man. Caelan didn’t like it either. They’d been saved from the Empire soldiers, but where were they being taken? He hated to think that he didn’t trust his own people, but Caelan was reluctant to trust anyone who was not Rayne, Drayce, or Eno.
The stranger led them through a couple of alleys, then dipped inside an old building that looked as if it had been abandoned for years. The windows were covered in dirt and grime so thick no light could penetrate it. Drayce entered first with Rayne bringing up the rear. They all still had their weapons drawn, waiting for an ambush that never came.
Hurrying to the center of the room, the man lit a candle positioned on a large crate. He moved to a mantel over a small fireplace and lit three more candles. The shadows were pushed aside to reveal a room with a few pallets of thin blankets and a small stash of weapons. The building was quiet except for their own footsteps and heavy breathing.
With the candles lit, their savior pulled his green mask down to reveal the bright and eager face of a teenager. He bowed deeply to Caelan, both of his hands held out in front of him, empty palms up to show that he was unarmed and not a threat to them.
“Your Majesty,” he repeated.
Caelan stepped in front of his companions and waved for them to put away their weapons, even though he kept his own in his hand. The open flames also didn’t hurt. He could put up a protective shield over himself and his companions in a matter of a couple of seconds.
“Who are you?”
“Kristopher. Kristopher Tooms.”
Caelan frowned, surveying his dark clothing and the green cloth that still hung around his neck. The same mask the others were wearing when they gathered the dead. He was too young to be an Erya soldier. Local militia?
“Tell me who you are and what’s going on in Hollowind, Mr. Tooms?”
Kristopher straightened, his eyes snagging on Caelan’s sword. His smile nervously twitched only once, but his excitement never wavered. “Kristopher is fine with me, Your Majesty. The Empire has been harassing the town ever since they attacked the capital. We’ve heard from other small cities along the coast that they’ve suffered the same fate. The Empire has been searching for you.”
“Apparently, the Lord High Commander followed our same logic that it would be easier to sneak into a small town than a large, bustling city,” Rayne grumbled.
“Has New Rosanthe hurt anyone in this town?” Caelan demanded.
Kristopher’s eager smile wilted, and his shoulders slumped. “We had no military presence here, so it was nothing for them to take out most of the police force. Those that survived left or went into hiding as soon as they realized they were a target. Other than that, they’ve been harassing citizens and raiding homes. Keeping everyone on edge and fearful. Told them if they saw the prince and handed him over, they’d leave for good.”
“Rat bastards,” Drayce groused.
Kristopher nodded. “Exactly. That’s why we formed the PSA.”
“The what?” Caelan asked, glancing over his shoulder at Rayne, who shook his head.
“The Prince’s Secret Army. We’ve been quietly taking out New Rosanthe soldiers and sabotaging their boats every time they come into our harbor.”
Caelan had to bite his lower lip against a grin. Kristopher’s excitement was infectious as well as terrifying. Were all the members of the PSA his age? Teenagers with guns protecting their homes? As horrible as it sounded, it was exactly what Erya needed right now.