Page 3 of Stolen Princess's Secret

No matter how hard he tried to avoid her, ignore her, and—to his shame—be downright curt with her, she would seek him out. He’d vowed to be kinder and there was no time like the present. Steeling himself, he attempted to assemble his face into something resembling a smile. ‘I’m about to fly a hawk. Where are your guards?’

Fortunately, the King was as rabidly protective of his daughter as Tomas could ever hope for. Round-the-clock security had become the norm for those living in and around the winter fortress. Tomas swiftly picked out two heavily armed guards with eyes on the child—one over by the stable door, the other stalking the battlements of the outer wall. There would be a third guard nearby, even if Tomas had yet to sight him.

A heavily armed man stepped out of the shadow of the wall and sketched a brief salute. He was new, and Tomas didn’t trust new faces. He was young too. Fresh-faced warriors packed with youthful overconfidence were the worst. ‘Master Falconer, may we join you?’ he asked.

‘If you must.’ He sighed as Sophia and her guard made a race towards the outer stairs. It wasn’t Sophia’s fault Claudia had been snatched away as a child and held for ransom. Claudia’s northern captors had wanted a seat at the table when discussing water rights. The King had refused to negotiate and Claudia had died.

Twenty years later, Cas was inviting the northerners to finally join the discussion on water rights and, as far as Tomas could tell, Claudia’s death had been for nothing.

Sophia had arrived at his side and was trying to hoist herself up on the grey stone wall for a better view, and, ‘No,’ he growled. Hell, no, she would not sit up there and wriggle and move and give him a heart attack. He moved a few metres to the left, the hawk still perched on his arm as he pointed with his other arm towards a fat stone wedged against the wall. ‘You stand on that, and not one part of you is to overreach the wall. You don’t lean against it, you don’t rest your elbows on the ledge, you don’t stick your head over to see how high up you are. Are we clear?’

‘Yes, Master Falconer!’ Sophia beamed at him.

Why? Why did she have to beam with delight when he was being so stern?

She looked longingly at the hawk but was smart enough not to try and touch her. ‘What’s her name?’

He’d never known a child so fixated on names. Okay, that wasn’t true. He’d known one other who’d been much the same. ‘Carys. She’s five years old.’

‘Will she come back to us if you let her fly free?’

‘She’s bonded to me so she should return, but there’s also a chance she won’t.’

‘What happens then?’

‘We say goodbye and let her go.’ He crouched and rummaged through the pack at his feet for a pair of binoculars. ‘Do you know how to use these?’

‘Yes!’

He handed them to her just as a high-pitched whistle sounded on the outer battlements. Two more short sharp whistles had guards converging and pointing to the north. Sophia, too, had the binoculars to her eyes and trained towards the north. It probably wouldn’t be right to snatch those binoculars back, but only iron-clad control stopped him from doing so regardless.

‘There’s a lady on a horse,’ said Sophia. ‘Dressed in, like, furs. And a man on another horse and two wolfhounds.’

‘Which way are they riding?’

‘This way.’

He had the oddest feeling. A thundering in his heart that he couldn’t explain.

‘Give the master falconer his binoculars back, youngling,’ said the guard. ‘And crouch down.’

Tomas had never been more grateful. ‘There’s a purple silk ribbon in my pack. Find it for me.’ Keeping Sophia occupied was only part of that directive. Compulsion rode him now, as he focused on the riders. It was as she said. Two riders, two wolfhounds, two horses. And there was something about the dark-haired woman that turned his blood to ice.

No.

But what if?

She’s dead, he argued to himself.

They never got her body back.

She’s been confirmed dead for twenty years.

He’d been there the day she’d been taken by a guard who was supposed to protect her. He’d seen them in the garden. He’d thought nothing of it, and for years he’d blamed himself for not noticing that something was wrong. If only he’d been more observant. If only he’d waved to Claudia and called her over rather than hurrying after his father because he wasn’t supposed to be friends with her when other people were looking... If only he’d done something different.

No one had ever seen her again.

He crouched down beside Sophia as she pulled the strip of royal purple silk from the bag. ‘You know what this is?’

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