Page 9 of Prince of the Northwest Forest
It’s bothering me that I don’t know who he is. He’s memorable.
His pale arms were covered in what I believe are called flash tattoos. Very classic looking, like something a sailor of old might have. Not that I’ve seen many sailors of old, but we do have books in my realm, and I’ve read plenty of those.
Firecats. I didn’t want to look away from him. Then he smiled at me, and it was like the dawn breaking across the far mountains.
Everything in my body screamed at me to stop and talk with him. To find out why I was having that reaction.
But duty calls, and I press on.
I turn for one last look, and I realize he’s watching me. An invisible thread is wrapped around my middle, tying me to him. Something yanks it.
Who is he?
Martin clears his throat. Okay, got it. We’ll keep going.
Hazel, Martin, and I reach the Renversé Hotel in the early evening. The lights of the lobby seem bright and welcoming. We pass a fountain on the way to the entrance. In the center of the fountain is a statue of an elegant man holding a cup. I squint. The plaque reads: “Prince Bartholomew Renversé. Runaway royal. Founder of Princedelphia. Lover of hot beverages.”
Cute.
The dozen or so pigeons gathering around the fountain bow down to me, their iridescent grayish feathers shiny. Hazel huffs but stands respectfully to the side.
“Prince Kalle,” one of the birds chitters. “It’s actually you.”
I wave a hand. “Hello, citizens.”
“What are you doing in Princedelphia? You don’t often leave your realm,” a different pigeon says.
“Can you keep a secret?” I ask.
They can’t. I’m counting on that fact. Sorry, Mother and Father, but I’m going to enlist all the help I can get from the animal kingdom.
The pigeons all bob their heads. “Oh, yes, Your Highness.”
“I’m looking for my brother, Prince Mats. Can you keep an eye out for him?”
“Both eyes!” one warbles.
My heart feels like it’s shrinking. Part of me was hoping they’d already have seen him. I sigh heavily. “Thank you. Please send word if you find him.”
“Where do you think he is?” another asks.
I wince. “We don’t know. He doesn’t appear to be in the Northwest Forest, so we’re looking in other realms.”
“Was he kidnapped?”
“We’ve received no ransom demand,” I say, feeling evasive—although intuition is telling mesomethinghappened.
“We’ll definitely look for him, Your Highness! We’ll let you know if we hear anything.”
“Terrific. Thank you,” I say, and continue to the hotel entrance.
The hotel is smaller than Huckleberry Castle, but it’s still quite nice, with a section to the side that looks like it’s being renovated.
Mats, where are you?
“Stay outside,” I whisper to Hazel and Martin.
“Sure thing, Your Highness,” Hazel says. Martin gives a little bellow. They both step aside into the planters.
