Page 1 of The Mage and His Stolen Prince
Prologue
The child had no name, no home, and no control over the world around them. They did, however, have bread. For now, that was enough.
The bread was the first food they’d had in days, unsold product a baker had tossed away. The child clutched the stale loaf to their chest as they scurried through the crowded street, weaving between couples and families, intent on finding somewhere safe to devour the whole thing.
The crowd slowly thinned, and the child spotted an open alleyway. The thick shadows would be the perfect place to sit and eat, away from watchful eyes. With new energy, they dashed across the street.
In their haste, they accidentally collided with a young woman. The child knew what would come next—screaming, fists flying, condemnation and threats of ‘removing filth from the streets.’ The child hunched over to protect their bread and their stomach from the oncoming assault, but they didn’t stop running.
“Look out!” Not the expected threat, but a warning.
The child looked up in time to see the carriage racing down the street. Instead of slowing, the coachman whipped the horses faster with every step. The huge black horses could crush the child with a single hoof and the carriage probably wouldn’t even slow.
The child dove out of the way, landing roughly on the side of the road. The bread they’d clutched so tightly fell from their hands, landing in the dirty street. It didn’t matter though. They’d eaten dirt before.
“You fiend!” the woman who had called the warning shouted after the carriage. In her fury, she threw her purse straight at the coachman. Itthunked against his head before landing on the other side of the street. “You almost killed a child!”
The coachman yanked on the reins, guiding the carriage up and onto the sidewalk. The remaining crowd screamed and scattered. One woman dove out of the way, performed a perfect somersault, and landed upright, arms in the air. The rest of the crowd politely clapped, and she blushed prettily as she bowed to her admirers.
Only two people refrained from cheering: the coachman, who scowled in her direction; and the child, who she had bumped into.
The child lost hold of their bread again. With the carriage’s arrival on the sidewalk, the crowd had condensed, pushing against each other. As people moved, their feet brushed against the bread, kicking it further out of the child’s reach.
They squeezed between legs to chase after their lost prize. It finally came to a stop beside the carriage. The crowd was still giving the carriage a wide berth, creating a small clearing in the street.
The child pushed past the edge of the crowd, hand outstretched. They’d grab the bread and run before anyone realized they’d caused the commotion.
The carriage door flung open, crashing against the side. “What the fuck is going on?” a man in black demanded as he stepped out. His heavy boot fell perfectly onto the bread, squashing the whole loaf into the ground. He looked down, a snarl curling his lip, and raised his boot. Half the bread clung to it while the rest remained a flattened lump in the street.
He hobbled toward the sidewalk and scraped his boot on the edge of the curb, removing the brown gunk.
The child’s heart dropped into their stomach as they watched the complete ruination of their meal. Could they salvage any of it? Would the dirt maintain the hearty taste of grain?
“What’s going on?” a sweet, high-pitched voice asked, repeating the man’s question without expletives.
“Stay inside,” the man barked.
The other speaker immediately disobeyed him, hopping down from the carriage. The boy was small, seven or eight, with flaming red curls and freckles dotting his cheeks. Like the man, the boy was dressed in stark black from head to toe, harsh against his pale skin. He scanned the crowd, his bright blue eyes unerringly landing on the only other person his age.
“Master, someone attacked the carriage,” the coachman announced.
The woman who had thrown her purse gasped in affront. “Because you almost killed someone!”
“People should know better than to be in the road.”
The man in black whipped around to scowl fiercely at her. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
The boy ignored their argument and inched closer to the other child. “Hello,” he said.
The child flinched and backed away, looking for an escape. They spotted the alley they’d meant to hide in earlier and ran toward it.
“Wait!”
The boy followed them!
They raced through the crowd, one running, one chasing. But the child was hungry, small for their age, and the boy was well cared for and full of energy. He caught up to them and grabbed their arm.
Though his grip wasn’t painful, the child struggled, squirming and twisting until they wrenched their arm free. They stumbled a few steps away, skinny chest heaving as they stared at their pursuer with wide, black eyes.
