Cold realization dribbled down her back, making her grimace. “Caution is good,” she agreed with vigorous head-nodding.
Following Mitch’s lead, the pair moved ahead in the last of the daylight. Unless the trees and buildings had bounced the sound oddly, the sneeze had come from the direction of the inn. The growing chill aided their stealth; nobody was willing to leave their fireplaces without a very good reason. A lone male figure stood in the inn yard, tucking a large handkerchief into a pocket. It had to be the prince!
Again, Mitch’s grasp of her hand prevented Tasia from running out to greet the royal. Still on alert, with constantly roving eyes and ears that were humanly round yet seemed to perk like a wolf’s, he directed her to a shadowy spot on the edge of the yard. There he dropped her hand and told her to call the prince over.
“Prince Frank!” Tasia called as quietly as she thought she could while getting his attention.
The tall man whirled around, looking shocked. He hesitantly walked closer, then grinned when she pulled down her hood and stepped into the light. He continued forward even after Mitch pulled her back into the shadows.
“Miss Stone.” The accompanying bow was polite and friendly. “I have been looking for you.”
Tasia grinned back. “You found me!”
She felt a rumble at her back and glanced up at Mitch. Her companion was scanning the yard and had retreated behind his public mask. She knew it was mostly an act, but it did remind her that they needed to be circumspect.
She lowered her voice. “How did you get here?”
The prince mimicked her tone. “I have been looking for you since I discovered your sister had you banished.”
Tasia wrinkled her nose. “I wasn’t reallybanished, exactly. I’m living with relatives.”
Mitch snorted behind her, and Prince Frank raised one eyebrow.
“‘Relatives’ would be pushing it.” The prince shook his head when she opened her mouth to protest, and she subsided, relieved because she didn’t have a real argument.
A thick hat covered his brown hair, but she could see the outline of his nose—and the bump from a past break—when he shifted to eye the rest of the yard.
“People aren’t very friendly here, are they?” he remarked.
Mitch remained a statue at her back, but Tasia huffed a quiet laugh and rolled her eyes. “It’s because you aren’t ‘village,’” she told him. “Boschivo is not fond of outsiders.”
A light of understanding brightened his eyes. “Ah. An outsider trying to hunt down another outsider was probably a lost cause.”
“I’m surprised they weren’t willing to help a prince, though,” she mused. “I would have expected them to be respectful to royalty, even if you are foreign.”
“I didn’t tell them; they don’t need to know,” Prince Frank explained with his usual candor.
Mitch cleared his throat. “Are you staying here?”
The other man nodded. When Mitch continued to stare at him, Prince Frank added the room number and general location. Mitch checked their surroundings, then led the others to a back door around the corner. He refused to let Tasia enter until he had confirmed that the way was clear. She and Prince Frank followed him up a dark, cramped stairway to a tiny room with a narrow bed, a rickety chair, and a miniscule window that didn’t look large enough to let in light. At least it was clean.
Mitch took up a post by the door while the prince offered Tasia the chair. It wobbled, but held. Prince Frank winced when he sat on the bed.
After lighting the room’s single candle, he took her hand and gave it a pat. When Mitch shifted his weight, the prince pulled back.
“I must apologize, Miss Stone. I didn’t intend to leave you out here this long.”
“There’s no need to apologize!” Tasia remembered to keep her voice down, though she was finding it difficult to temper her joy at seeing him. Cindy had monopolized most of his time, but he had always been nice to Tasia and was a far better conversationalist than the villagers who still wouldn’t acknowledge her.
He shook his head. “I feel like I’ve failed you. I expected Cyn—your stepsister not to help me, but I didn’t expect it to take this long. And there were a number of royal duties that I couldn’t shirk.”
“You aren’t Charming, after all,” Tasia teased.
“I am not.” He flashed her a smile.
From the faint confusion that crossed Mitch’s face, she realized she was being inadvertently rude.
“Where are my manners? Prince Frank, this is Mitch Arany.” She gestured from one man to the other. “Mitch, this is Prince Frank of Diomland. If you didn’t know, his older brother’s name is Charming, and he is somewhat famous for getting out of work.”
