No time to make my escape silent, but at least she’d bought me a minute or two. I yanked at the window latch.
“Oh, I don’t mind about her attire. Where can I find her?”
Blast him. Had he predicted I’d try to escape?
Footsteps approached, and the door jerked open. Mother shadowed the doorframe. “Raella, you . . .” She narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing?”
“It was stuffy in here.” I resumed my seat, tucking my shaking hands into my pockets.
“I see. Well, the prince would like to see you. Please join us in—”
“No need. I can visit with her just as easily in here.”
That voice . . . The pulse thudding in my head wouldn’t let me think.
“If you insist.” Mother pursed her lips and stepped aside.
“Tad.” My jaw dropped like a sagging axle. “They said the prince was coming.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, he took a step closer. “And no doubt you were expecting Prince Hendrick. My brother.”
“You’re—” A gust of air hissed through my teeth, deflating my lungs. He was Prince Thaddeus? “But you never told me.”
He gave a familiar half cough, half chuckle and eased the door shut behind him. “Every lady’s attention was on my brother that night anyway. Heir to the kingdom. The one who intended to choose a bride. I didn’t even want to go, at least not until you showed up.” He crept nearer with every word. “I worried he gave me away while you were dancing and scared you off. But he swore he didn’t say a word about it—I guess I should’ve believed him. He heartily approves of you, by the way.”
“No, Prince Hendrick didn’t . . .” I rose, anger replacing the fear coursing through my veins. “You should’ve said something.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He stopped just out of arm’s reach, his eyes torn between regret and mischief. “But to be fair, you were quite adamant about not wanting to become a princess. I feared you’d march away in an instant if you knew the truth.”
A blend of motor oil and cedar tickled my nose. It would be so much easier to be mad at him if he didn’t look so endearing in his wrinkled black shirt.
“I wouldn’t have.” I glanced away, pressing my lips closed before I could say anything else idiotic.
“Hmm, now that sounds promising.”
I watched his leather boots advance within inches of mine.
“You know, your gown the other night was stunning, but you look surprisingly fetching in your work clothes. I almost think I prefer them.”
He chuckled at my glare. Cheeky man. But the other night . . . My fingers gripped the edge of the table at my back. He deserved the truth from me too.
“Tad. I mean, Prince Thaddeus—”
“Stick with Tad, please.”
I swallowed. “I may have mistakenly given you the wrong impression at the ball as well. The fairies made my dress and shoes as a kindness, not for payment. As you can see, I’m hardly a noblewoman.”
“What does that matter? You will be if you—” He coughed, and red tinged his cheeks. “But I mustn’t get ahead of myself. What I mean to say is, my attraction to you had nothing to do with what I might’ve perceived as your social or financial status.” He placed his hands on my shoulders.
Warmth radiated through me, both comforting and exhilarating.
“Rae, you’re kind and smart and interesting. You care more about mechanics than your wardrobe, and you gave me your full attention without knowing I was a prince. I know better than to scare you off by proposing with only a few hours’ acquaintance, but can I please spend more time with you?” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “A lot more time?”
“Yes.” His lips were on mine before the word was fully formed. Gentle but sure. My eyelids drifted closed, my arms twining around his neck.
He released me from the kiss, his chest rising and falling in a rapid cadence. His shy smile widened as he stepped back, digging a hand into his pocket. He removed an iridescent slipper. “I almost forgot; I believe I have your shoe.”
With a laugh, I placed the shoe on the worktable before kissing his cheek.
“So, when do I get a ride in that motorized carriage?”
“How about now?” I didn’t bother to conceal my grin. “Could we go to the palace?”
“Of course. You’re welcome there any time.” He offered his arm.
I hesitated only a moment before accepting. Who cares how silly I look on a prince’s arm in my worn trousers and grease-stained shirt? “I have some friends I’d like to visit.”
Laurie Lucking
An avid reader practically since birth, Laurie Lucking discovered her passion for writing after leaving her career as an attorney to become a stay-at-home mom. When she gets a break from playing board games and finding lost toys, she writes young adult fantasy with a strong thread of fairy tale romance. Her debut novel, Common, won the Christian Editor Connection’s Excellence in Editing Award and is a finalist in the ACFW Carol Awards. Laurie has also published several short stories and is a co-founder of Lands Uncharted, a blog for fans of clean young adult speculative fiction. A Midwestern girl through and through, she currently lives in Minnesota with her husband and three children. Find out more by visiting www.laurielucking.com.
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SPRING 2020
BEFORE THE JOURNEY
by AC Cobble
6,500 Words
“HO THERE, STRANGERS,” said the man. He settled a rag over his shoulder and tucked his thumbs behind his belt, pushing his gut out, straining the cloth of his plain cotton tunic.
“Ho,” replied the rogue, leaning back in his chair and balancing on the two rear legs while his foot rested on the table to keep him stable. He looked the man up and down. “Are you the proprietor of this way station . . . Murdoch?”
The portly man grinned and shook his head. “Yes and no. I am the proprietor of this fine establishment, but Murdoch himself passed away ages ago. I never got around to changing the sign.”
“My kind of man,” said the rogue. He raised his tankard and winked.
Lady Karina Towaal, mage of the Sanctuary, cleared her throat and glanced at the proprietor, affecting a look of disdain, hoping it gave the man the hint that they preferred their privacy. “Can we help you with anything?”
The innkeeper didn’t take the hint. Instead, he looked between the five companions seated at the table as if struggling to decide which he should address.
Rhys, the rogue who had spoken, was clearly not the leader of their party. He had the look of a man who spent a great deal of time observing the inside of gaol cells. His clothes had been recently washed, but only because Lady Towaal had demanded it as soon as they arrived at the way station. Even after bathing, his chin bristled with stubble, and his long hair hung unkempt around his face. A longsword and a brace of knives hung over the back of his chair, giving little doubt as to his profession. Surely the innkeeper could recognize hired muscle, but he let his gaze rest on Rhys curiously for some time before shifting to the others.