"DID THEY SEE YOU?" As he guided Lorelai and Leo into the barn, Alvie's dark complexion was gilded with the final rays of the setting sun. Gustav was now strewn throughout the former guardsman's short black hair, and small lines were carved around his eyes. He still conducted himself like a soldier, but the cost of preventing the queen from finding the prince and princess's survival was there in the slight drop of his shoulders and the concern that filled his eyes when he thought no one was watching.
"No." Mildred Lond, the crown princess of Gruidarid and a wanted woman, dashed into the gloomy depths. The barn was nestled away on the outskirts of an abandoned farm just outside the alpine hamlet of Dwight and was in such disrepair that a strong wind might demolish it. "Are you certain?" Alvie moved passed the princess to assist her brother Leo in pulling a fully loaded hay cart into the barn.
"Please. You're referring to the Royal Rogues. Nobody notices us unless we want to be noticed." Sidney pushed the hay cart inside one more time before closing the door. He sighed as he looked down at his soiled pants. "However, we should reconsider these disguises." "I told you we weren't going to name ourselves the Royal Rogues. And our disguises work perfectly." Mildred's gloved fingers struggled with her threadbare coat's buttons.
"They are fine if by fine you mean awful." Sidney brushed at the dirt he'd smudged on his face earlier in the day, trying to pass like an untidy farm lad in case anybody noticed him waiting by the road that went from Dwight to the queen's northeast garrison. "I also have numerous more good name recommendations." The Lucky Couple; The Royal Robbers, which, in my opinion, makes us seem too much like criminals—
"We are thieves." Mildred folded her coat and placed it next to her travel bag. "At least in the queen's eyes." "A small point." Sidney ran his fingers over the booty sacks neatly arranged on the hay wagon. "We made good progress tonight," Mildred commented as Alvie tallied the bags full of the community's small food supply, which Elinor had demanded as taxes, despite the fact that her garrison already had enough food to support every village in the Thurman Mountains for many months. Not that the famished folks would notice.
Elinor would eat some of it and leave the rest to decay as a statement to everyone that she owned Gruidarid down to the last stalk of wheat. "That brings the total to six robberies in two months." Six villages have been loyal to me and will back me when I seek the crown. If we maintain this up, we'll have won the trust of the entire Thurman by spring." Sydney smiled at her with a lovely, crooked grin. "Imagine how much simpler it would be to gain the devotion of the peasants if we had a name to go with our reputation." We may be the "Daring Couple"—" "If we don't move on, you might be hanged for your sins."
"Now, let's concentrate on what has to be done so that we can depart at first light, just in case you were noticed." "We weren't," Mildred answered as her white gyrfalcon swooped in through the open loft window and sat on the princess's shoulder, her talons pressing into the leather brace Mildred had fashioned for her shoulder. The bird's beak held a dead mouse. "I took cover in the Treasury cart before it departed Dwight." When they were an hour outside the settlement, Lavina diverted them with a phony attack." Mildred ran a gloved finger along the back of her bird. "As for Sydney—" "I did the best Morcantian country boy impersonation you've ever heard."
He sped up his pace, squeezing his consonants and rushing all the sounds together. "I was a Morcantian peasant enraged that the blight in Gruidarid was crossing the border and killing my goats." "He shouted at the Treasury officials long enough for me to get inside the wagon, but they never got a good look at him." Mildred pushed the mouse away from her face. Gift. For your benefit. Dinner. Lavina's ideas flashed through Mildred's head with lightning speed. I'm sorry, but I don't eat mice. Mildred's throat constricted as the mouse's skin brushed against her hair, and pictures of Lavina's beak joyfully tearing the mouse's skin to reach its internal organs flashed through her bird's head.
Most of the time, she remembered the day nine years before when she discovered the dying baby gyrfalcon and poured her magic into the bird to heal it. However, the telepathic link that had evolved between them occasionally provided Mildred with much too much information about the inner workings of her bird's mind. Humans are strange creatures. Mouse is delicious. Lavina expanded her wings and glided to the barn floor, where she eagerly devoured her prey. "My performance was flawless." As he brushed the dust off his wavy black hair, Sydney smiled. "I don't know how you do it," Mildred said after Alvie finished scrutinizing the bags and limped up to a large break in the barn wall to peep through.
"You've never even visited Elwood." You overheard a discussion three years ago and sound just like you were born there. I couldn't do that if you shot an arrow through my heart." Sydney smiled. "That's because you excel in magic and I excel at everything else." Alvie stepped away from the door. "Enough babbling. Mildred needs to practice while there is still light. Take the bags up to the loft, Sydney. My local contact will collect them and give the food to people in need." Sydney appeared to be upset. "I'm the one who always needs to do the heavy lifting." Mildred smiled smugly.
"That's because I excel in magic and you excel at everything else." "You were harsh, Mildred." Sydney sighed deeply and took the first bag. Alvie retrieved a bundled-up blanket from the barn's corner and placed it on the floor. When he opened it, he discovered various objects beneath the low light streaming in through the crevices in the walls. A length of rope, a tinderbox, and a dazzling green gem half the size of Mildred's palm were all present. Mildred's gut knotted, and the air was too heavy to breathe as she knelt near the blanket and removed her gloves. The cloth became entangled in her suddenly damp flesh. It wasn't enough to loot treasury carts and inspire peasant devotion.