Page 25 of Stolen Princess's Secret

‘You have a bit of lipstick...’ She demonstrated the spot by pointing to the area on her own face, but he got the wrong cheek. ‘Other side.’

‘Thanks. You have...’

He made a flapping motion with his hand that seemed to encompass her entire body.

‘I’m in need of a mirror, yes. I’ll see to it.’

‘You look...’

‘I know.’

‘I was going to say beautiful. Better than any dream I’ve ever had.’

Oh.

‘The phones never work up in the mountains where I’m going,’ he said steadily as opened the door a crack. ‘Look to the skies for my homing pigeons bearing news.’

CHAPTER SIX

IT WAS ALL very well to promise news and load up with homing pigeons to release at various stages on the journey—should other birds on the mountain be willing to leave them alone, but it was another issue altogether to try and write cramped little messages that were in any way meaningful.

Tomas was a man of very few words. He’d had more as a boy, but his trust in others had waned with Claudia’s disappearance and been shattered when her father, the King, had refused to barter for her return. This new world with Casimir in charge was kinder, and the politics progressive, but Tomas still struggled to trust others—even his apprentices, who had proven themselves capable many times over. Giving him a barony and even more people to oversee just meant more work for him until he learned how to delegate.

Maybe he should write about that.

Today I thought about how to find staff for a manor house. And whether I seriously need to know what tableware to use for any given situation. Is this why I need two wives?

He couldn’t finish a message there. Could he?

Mt. Saer: three golden eagle pairs, all plus eggs. On to Mt. Raeschi.

That would do. No need to overthink it, or to mention just how often he thought of Claudia’s softness, her fierce strength, or the warm cradle of her body. Of course, there was always the slim chance the pigeon might not find its way home, but if it did his team had instructions to make sure the Princess Royal received the message.

A week later, something appeared in the sky that looked like no bird he’d ever seen. Something that startled his horses and made his falcons flap their wings in alarm. A drone. A drone, flying royal ribbons—it hovered in front of his face. This was a travesty. Gross misuse of airspace. Falcon fakery of the highest order. Maybe he’d club it to bits.

‘Good morning, Master Falconer. Nice bushy beard you’ve got growing there.’ Claudia’s words rang out loud and clear.

‘Why is this mechanical thing tracking me?’

‘Well, I could hardly send a homing pigeon to you, now, could I? That’s a one-way trip. Whereas this communication method...once the satellite picked up your coordinates, all I had to do was feed them into the program and hope for a sunny day. Marvellous, isn’t it? Solar-powered. It’s a military prototype.’

‘I loathe it.’

‘Hence the scowl, yes, I see. I was rather hoping you’d be impressed by my ingenuity.’

‘The fact that he couldn’t see her irritated him mightily.

‘So, to answer your questions about the troubles inherent in having too many wives—I predict many, many troubles, too many to count. I don’t recommend it.’

‘You’re not sitting in a room full of generals, are you? Because now would be a good time to tell me that.’ He put his finger up against what he thought was the camera lens.

‘Stop messing with my tech,’ she ordered. ‘Don’t make me zap you. And there’s no one else in the room with me. I’m the only one who can see and hear you.’

‘That you know of,’ he muttered darkly and kept his finger right where it was. There was nothing wrong with a little paranoia.

‘You’re going to need Lillis & Co pattern number PT12CBQ, white ribbed bone china, times twelve, plus banquet dishware. RWBee stainless steel cutlery plus full banquet mix additions for a table of eighteen. Veni glassware—crystalline with silver, design number CS32, and no one wants to skimp on glassware so you’ll need the full set, meaning twenty-four of everything they can think of.’

‘When you say “going to need...” Am I? Am I really? What if I’ve decided to be a no-frills baron with simple tastes?’

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