Page 14 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne

“What who wants?”

“The bandits who cut down the tree!”

I frowned and looked in the direction she’d been hissing at earlier. “What did you see?”

“Well,” she hedged, plopping her fists on her hips. “I didn’ttechnicallysee anyone, but Iknowsomeone was there. This is a classic bandit ploy to distract us and take our jewels!”

Dad sighed. “Did you steal your mother’s books again?”

“I’m eighteen,” she replied primly, “I don’t have to steal them, I can buy my own.”

“Those books are all fiction. The Desolated Lands aren’t overrun with evil bandits.”

“They don’t have to be evil,” I said.

Dad’s brow furrowed as he looked at me. “What?”

“The bandits—they don’t have to be evil. If someone is just stealing to survive, would the Kingdom Defense Spell react to them?”

Dad hesitated and exchanged a look with Father. “We have enough social programs in place that theft shouldn’t be necessary …”

“But there’s no reason to linger here and test that theory,” Father finished. “We’ll pack up what’s important, then send someone back in the morning for the rest. We can replace anything lost.”

He stepped aside to speak with the outriders while the rest of us unearthed the luggage from the broken carriage. I sorted through my clothes, trying to salvage enough to wear for the next few days in case our thingswerestolen.

Delilah’s head suddenly shot up and her lips pulled back in a harsh hiss. “Someone’s coming.”

As soon as she spoke, I heard it too—the slow clop of horse’s hooves and the faint tumbling of wheels.

“Bandits!” Delilah cried. Instead of ducking for cover, she lunged forward, crawling on top of the fallen tree trunk. She arched her back and hissed, clawingat the air.

The driver of the cart shouted in shock and pulled their horses to a stop. A wide-brimmed hat obscured half of their face, giving them a slightly menacing aura. Then they pushed it up to expose the plain, weathered features of an old farmer. “What’s all this about?”

“We’re sorry to startle you,” Dad said, grabbing Delilah by the collar of her shirt and pulling her down. “This tree fell in the middle of the road, and we’re a bit rattled from the experience.”

“So I see.” The farmer squinted as he surveyed the scene. “Looks like y’all are alright, though, so that’s a relief. Need any help?”

Father stepped forward as our spokesperson. “If it isn’t too much trouble, we would appreciate a ride into town.”

“I was headed the other way,” the farmer said, mulling over the request. He scanned the tree blocking the road and the ruined carriage off to the side. It’d be difficult to guide even a small cart around the mess. “But I suppose I can’t get there now anyway. Grab what you can and load ‘er up.”

As we transferred everything to his cart, I watched the farmer. He never stepped down from the driver’s seat to help, though he was already doing us a huge favor. Expecting him to haul our trunks was probably too much to ask.

In the end, our luggage filled the back of his cart. We didn’t have to leave anything behind, but now there wasn’t room for anyone to ride in it.

“Uncle Rick,” Delilah whispered, tugging on Dad’s sleeve. “What if he’s a bandit, and this is all part of his elaborate plan to steal our things.”

“Why don’t I ride with him on the driver’s seat?” I suggested. “That way he can’t run off the second we’re distracted.”

Dad frowned, eyeing the farmer warily. “I don’t want to put you in harm’s way.”

“He’s an old man,” I replied dismissively. “And if I ride with him, the guards will have their hands free in case we run into other trouble.”

Father put his hand on Dad’s shoulder and said, “He’ll be in sight the whole time.”

Since I had Father’s permission, Dad tacitly agreed.

I walked over to the cart and asked, “Mind if I join you?” I climbed into the driver’s seat before he answered.