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“No...” he said, holding up his hands in realization. “That wasn’t me! I was standing right here the whole time! You all saw it.”
He hunted for Calix as the crowd pressed in. He hadn’t done anything wrong! This couldn’t be happening!
Directly behind him was an older man who appeared slower on the uptake.
Aurelius’s breath quickened. He shouldn’t run! Running would declare him guilty. But the moment for decision was just a few seconds.
The crowd pressed closer.
Stay or go.
Run or explain.
He had to decide!
He stole a quick glance at the oncoming fighters. The look in their eyes was frenzied madness. There would be no explaining.
He barged into the old man, knocking him to the ground with an awful crunch.
I’m sorry! I’m sorry!
Like a rabbit through brush, he darted, keeping his head low, ducking toward anyone who still looked confused. He smacked his head again and again, bringing swirls to his vision.
He didn’t know where he was going.
He didn’t care!
Snippets of the palace wall disappeared, telling him that he’d somehow found his way out into the city beyond, still heavy with the press of people.
“Stop him!” came a bellow from behind. “He murdered the king!”
On cue, what few gaps remained narrowed. Hands tore at his clothing and fingernails slashed across his face. He tried to keep going, but his movement slowed. He struggled to maintain what little momentum he had.
And then, in one awful moment, there were no gaps left. All that remained was the crush of anger and the stench of sweat.
Blows rained down upon him, all happening so quickly and from so many angles that he couldn’t tell them apart. He tried to shield his face. He could barely breathe!
Suddenly, there was a rumble beneath his hands, the ground shaking. Then came a whipping sound, and the crack of bodies being flung.
The mass flew away, bringing clear air.
The dozen people who’d been kicking him were now being held back by fast-growing grape vines—turning from succulent green into the gnarly brown whips of winter dormancy.
Calix?
Up ahead, more vines exploded from the ground along a little side street, knocking people back and pinning them to walls.
He returned his pace, pain shooting across him. The vines burst from the roads ahead, guiding his path, twisting and turning, left and right, all the while people were knocked out of his way.
When he thought his lungs could take no more, he was grabbed around the waist, bringing him to a spinning stop. He threw an elbow back at whatever was grabbing him, but it landed hard against a thick shoulder.
It was Calix.
He was on one knee, his other hand to the ground—from where the path of vines was extending. The prince picked him up and staggered away, ducking into some private courtyard and collapsing at the base of an olive tree.
“Where were you!” Aurelius said as he gathered his bearings. “I was—”
Calix’s face was pale and drenched in sweat. He gasped for air.
