Mathieu (White Flame Trilogy) - By Paula Flumerfelt Page 0,13

with us before we have to hurt you.”

Grinning, he spat in the man’s face and knocked him into the man closest to him with a surprisingly well-judged kick. Before it had been about being tough, but now it was about being threatened.

This time, he didn’t run into the other men, but hopped onto a nearby trash can, using it as a launching point to jump up, catching the gutter of the building. Wincing as the cold metal cut into his palms, he pulled himself up and rolled onto the roof. Looking back over the edge, he saw that enough confusion had arisen for him to escape. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he ran and leapt onto the next roof. Smoothly, he landed before running to the other side, leaning down and grabbing the edge, to drop to the ground. He could now hear the others hot on his trail, yelling at people to get out of the way.

His foot slipped and he hit the ground on his bruised shin, but he rolled back onto his feet and ran flat out in the opposite direction that everyone was going, dodging people left and right. The protesting of his leg was put to the back of his mind as he tried to think of where to go. All he could hear in his head, though, was Rebekah telling him that he always leapt before he looked.

The men were gaining on him quickly, blowing whistles and politely shoving citizens aside. Things were going to end badly if they caught him. But Mathieu saw it, a way out. If he could just make it another twenty-five feet or so, there was an alley he could duck down…

The foot traffic grew increasingly heavier, stunting his progress even further. Twenty to go. It was only getting harder now as he tried to fight his way across the mass of bodies. Fifteen. Ten.. Mathieu was so close he could taste it, could see the darkness of the cut-street that would save him. Five feet.

“I got him!” He fell quickly and hit the ground with a thump, one of the goons from earlier on top of him, a knee in his back. The man held him down with the weight of a small elephant, keeping him pressed into the hard ground until the other men could get there.

Panting, one of the younger men turned to the oldest. “There boss, we caught him. What should we do with him now?”

Crossing his arms, the older man’s face turned into a fierce snarly and he tapped his foot. “…Bring him.”

The man holding him down lifted him unceremoniously, wrenching one of his arms behind his back. Mathieu winced and jabbed an elbow into the man’s ribs in retaliation. Mathieu sighed. Not even in the capital ten whole minutes, and already in trouble. A feeling of impending doom fell upon him as the men created a sort of human prison around him, although he didn’t begrudge them considering how well he had escaped before. The citizens seemed to realize that something was happening, if the way they moved to create a pathway was any indication. His personal prison moved swiftly up the main street to the gates of the huge, glass and white metal castle that stood in the exact center of the city.

Without needing to be told, understanding dawned on him. This was the royal castle. The royal castle. The intricate, ominous black gates swung inward, opening to accept the party into its folds. Once they had passed the defenses and the gates had clanged closed, he was released. “Don’t be stupid, kid,” one of the goons said, “Your little escape trick won’t work here. Man up and accept your fate.”

Wincing at the man’s words, he tucked his hands into the pockets of his grey hoodie once again. Looking up, his breath caught in his throat. The closer that they got to the castle, the more magnificent it became. Each glass panel had an etched boarder around it, the white metal was twined into columns, encrusted with small, glowing jewels. The palace, which must have been at least twelve stories high, glittered in the light of the two suns, reminding him of the way the jewels had shined on the cart and the way that the fast moving stream behind the orphanage had thrown the sun against the grass.

The little group took a foot path that spurred off to the left. It was dirt, unlike the main walkway which was made of