Page 12 of The Mage and His Stolen Prince
“It’s the only bit I could find,” Kit replied, their voice made tinny by the metal. “So yes, I do.”
“Why do you need armor at all? We’re not likely to fight any monsters on our journey,” Rick said.
“What if the children have to go on a quest?”
“Thenwewon’t be invited,” Brendon reminded them.
“But Delilah could wear the helmet, couldn’t you, kitten?”
“It’s too big for me,” Delilah protested. “And my hair will get in the way.” She grabbed her fluffy ends and covered her eyes, pretending to blind herself.
Trey watched his family in bemusement, so distracted by their arrival that he once again forgot my existence. “You’re coming with us, Kit?”
I frowned at this development. Kit Holmwood-Woeful, Consort to the Queen of Woe, had not originally joined the royal champions in Misfortune. They shouldn’t have been here at all. But as I looked at the helmet, I realized that I had seen them during the final fight in the throne room, fighting the lord’s minions. They’d bashed that same helmet against a lacertian’s head.
The knight’s presence added another complication.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Kit declared. “Haven’t been to Misfortune since the—” they cleared their throat awkwardly and ended their sentence with—“you know.”
From Trey’s expression, he didn’t know, but he also didn’t ask.
The attendants dropped Kit’s trunk, and we rearranged everything a second time while the royals climbed into the carriage.
It was my turn to join the coachman up front. He had told me to sleep, then chattered non-stop the entire ride, so I’d given up on my nap. Trees lined the roads, offering some respite from the bright afternoon sun.
The area looked familiar, but I couldn’t determine why. I’d barely spent any time in the Desolated Lands, just long enough to sneak a look at Treasure and pass along the master’s messages. Honestly, the Desolated Lands didn’t look that different from the outside world. Perhaps the foliage was a little more vibrant, the fields a little more fertile, and the population disturbingly homogenous, but otherwiseeverythinglooked familiar.
“Stop!” someone shouted from the carriage.
The coachman yanked up on the reins, drawing the horses to a juddering halt.
Other voices came from inside, quieter and harder to decipher.
Delilah insisted, “We’re about to be attacked by bandits!”
The guards immediately closed ranks, weapons drawn to prepare for an attack. Long minutes passed with no movement on the road or in the trees.
Why does she think there are bandits?It wasn’t impossible of course—I’d denied dozens of people a job in the lair, so of course they must be out there somewhere, finding a way to survive—but there were no signs of an ambush.
As I peered through the trees, I finally realized why the area looked familiar. During the original journey, Trey hadn’t brought his mirror with him. The lord had stomped around the lair, furious with his son for cutting off communication. I’d volunteered to take Treasure a message, to confirm that it was the same boy I’d met as a child.
My plan … had been poorly thought out. To stop the carriage, I’d cut down one of the trees to block its path. Unfortunately, I’d timed things wrong and almost crushed the carriage. Treasure had been hurt in the collision and needed a health potion to recover.
Delilah had almost caught me in the act, hissing and yowling about bandits, just like she was now.
I’d felt horrible about the whole incident, but an evil mage never apologized. Cutting down the tree had produced results, and Trey had come out of it fine. Worse than fine—he’d been an absolute asshole. Our first conversation had been filled with cursing, accusations, and disobedience.
Surely, he could not be the same sweet boy who’d fed me and begged his father to bring me home. Not this man who crassly called the master ‘old man’ and challenged every little thing I said. Either this was someone completely different, another of the master’s underlings, or spending over a decade in the Desolated Lands had spoiled his personality beyond repair.
Of course, it was the same Treasure, and I’d come to appreciate his thorns as much as the soft center they protected.
Eventually, the guards relaxed and reported no sign of any bandit activity.
“I’m sorry,” Delilah murmured. Her voice traveled more clearly than the others, which meant she was probably sitting in a spot close to me. “I really thought we’d be attacked.”
The coachman was given permission to continue, and the rest of the day progressed without incident. However, the coachman and guards remained on alert, so the chatter fizzled out.
I should have taken the opportunity to nap, since I would probably be up late into the night fixing whatever mess the minions had made of the lair—again—but I kept thinking about Delilah’s odd behavior. First picking me out of a crowd, then raising the alarm about bandits that didn’t exist. It had to be a coincidence, a quirk of her personality I hadn’t witnessed during our short time together.
