Page 37 of Feathered Thief

Neither of them had much to say that evening. “I wonder if the prince will catch the thief in action,” she thought aloud while washing their few dishes and utensils.

“Not that one.” Papa tossed what remained of their supper to the cats waiting in the yard, inciting a feline riot. “He’s likely asleep already.”

Lenka evil-grinned. “He’s probably never slept on the ground in his life.”

“You may well be right,” he admitted, smiling in return.

She woke with a jolt, feeling as if she had just closed her eyes. Could it be morning already? Then she heard another violent thumping at the cottage door and a shout. “Hrabik!”

Lenka sat upright in near darkness, reaching for her hidden pocket. Exactly how pressing the little horse to her heart grounded her, she couldn’t have explained. But it did. The toyseemed to wake in her hands, and within moments, comfort flowed into her. Her heart rate slowed, and she drew a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh.

“Hrabik!”

Again, fists pounded at the cottage door. Lenka couldn’t answer; she wasn’t decent in her chemise. “Papa?” The word was a whisper, but it didn’t matter—he was already fumbling to open the door.

She peered over the loft’s edge just long enough to glimpse a rectangle of pale light framing the crown prince’s figure. “Did you take it?” Prince Marek shouted.

11

THEFT AND DREAMS

“Did I take wha—?” Papa stopped abruptly. “Oh. The apple is gone?”

“Why else would I be here?” Prince Marek’s tone dripped disgust.

“Did you see what took it?” Lenka blurted from her dark perch.

A cold pause, then, “Obviously not.”

“Have you told the king?” Papa asked.

After an even colder silence, the prince grumbled, “That’s your duty.”

Gravel crunched as he stalked away. Papa closed the door. “What now?”

“Do they expect us to find the apple?” she asked, still clutching her little toy.

“The king is no fool.” Papa’s tone implied that a certain other person might be. “Now, how am I to notify him of the missing apple?”

Lenka nearly offered to write a message for the king but remembered in time that they possessed neither pen nor parchment . . . and that gardener girls could neither read norwrite. She shook her head in confusion, suddenly aware that she could do both.

“Do you wish me to speak to the king?” she asked, peering down from the loft.

She could barely see Papa Hrabik scowling up at her from under his bushy brows. “The prince may be too proud to admit his failure, but I’m not afraid to report it for him. I’ll go tell the seneschal.”

“I’ll make breakfast and do the chores,” she assured him.

By the time they arrived at the apple tree, the king was already gazing into its branches. He turned to them, heavy-lidded and surprisingly disheveled. “What more have you to report regarding this latest theft?”

“The crown prince came to our door before dawn to ask if one of us stole the apple. I know that Lenka never left the cottage during the night. She was sleeping until the prince arrived.”

“Nothing can fully prove that, yet I’m inclined to believe you.” King Gustik’s scowl deepened. If he didn’t trust Papa Hrabik after a lifetime of faithful service, he was a fool, king or not. Did he trust his heir? Ha! Good luck to him.

As if he’d overheard her thought, the king shifted his feet, and she realized he was squirming. So, maybe kings were human too? With a slight grimace, he continued, “Prince Marek tells me he sat watch in utter darkness throughout the night and heard nothing, yet when morning dawned, the apple was missing. The exact apple this peasant maid”—he pointed at Lenka without meeting her gaze—“indicated yesterday. I believe my son did remain here all night; I found a pool of candle wax there.” His hand moved to indicate the apple tree’s trunk.

Prince Dominik approached, his gaze focused on the tree. “I see that the apple is gone, Father. Where is Marek?”

The king’s scowl deepened. “Your brother failed to prevent the theft.”

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