Free Puss in Boots (Timeless Fairy Tales Book 6) by K. M. Shea Page B

light, Steffen could see fire damage and newly replaced boards on several buildings, as well as new doors—bright and unused—hanging in ancient doorframes.
    “Something’s wrong,” Steffen said, straightening in his seat.
    “Timo didn’t signal anything,” King Henrik said, moving to look out the same window.
    The carriage glided to a stop, and Steffen placed a hand on the pommel of his sword. His father glanced at him and cracked the door open.
    Cat-like Moritz pulled the carriage door all the way open and bowed. “It is safe, Your Majesty, Kronprinz,” he said, his voice barely audible as he bowed.
    “What happened?” King Henrik asked, drawing his shoulders back as he surveyed the village.
    “Wied was ransacked last night,” Timo said, still mounted on his chestnut gelding. A tall but sweaty village boy stood next to him, clutching a handkerchief.
    “Report,” King Henrik barked, starch returning to his voice as he faced the potential catastrophe.
    Timo swung his horse to look to the youth, who bowed. “Bandits attacked Wied l-last night. They got away with some of our livestock, and most of our coin and precious belongings. We’ve got them back now, though, so we only have to deal with the damage from the fires they tried setting.” The youth motioned to a charred building behind him.
    “You got them back?” King Henrik asked.
    “Yes, Your Highness,” the youth nodded. He opened his mouth to further explain when a faint rumble of thunder rolled through the village.
    King Henrik held a hand up to pause the boy and studied the sky. “It seems that the weather will not hold for us. Steffen, if you would seek out housing for us—Wied has an inn, hasn’t it?” the king asked, returning his attention to the youth.
    “The Green Ivy Inn, run by Lena and Jakob,” the youth said. “It’s got a sign draped with ivy.”
    “Find the Green Ivy Inn and secure rooms for us,” King Henrik said.
    “Father—” Steffen started.
    “I’ll explain it later, but for now we need to prepare in case these bandits decide to return. Can I count on you, son?” King Henrik asked, his voice quiet but intense.
    Steffen nodded, his headache driving into his forehead like an iron nail, before he started his search. Somewhere behind him, he heard a new voice address his father—a smooth, confident voice. “Good evening, Your Majesty. It seems the story of my mistress and the bandits has become convoluted. Perhaps I could enlighten you in this matter?”
    Steffen ignored the voice and kept walking. Dominik, Moritz, and Alwin fell in step behind him as villagers peered out of their houses and gawked at the royal carriage. A few of them dared to venture closer, and men and women whispered as Steffen strode past.
    A clutch of three teenage girls giggled when they caught sight of him. They struggled to smooth their skirts and smiled shyly when he glanced in their direction. In spite of his headache, Steffen gave them his portrait-perfect smile, eliciting louder giggles out of them. He almost slumped with relief when he spotted ivy curtaining a sign creaked as it swung—tossed in the air by fierce gusts of wind. The sign hung from a pleasant, two-story house. The awed whispers and delighted giggles kept the iron in Steffen’s spine, and he entered the establishment with a perfect but falsified smile.
    Inside, the inn was clean and tidy—but empty. A fire crackled, and the wooden tables and benches gleamed from polishing. A tall, lanky woman stood behind the bar, her head tilting with interest as she studied Steffen and his guards.
    “Good evening…Lena, is it?” Steffen asked, his lips beginning to ache from holding the smile.
    “Yes, Your Highness,” the woman said, her eyes lingering on Steffen’s circlet—or as Nick called it, tiara—before she curtsied.
    “I am in need of all your available rooms for the evening. I am seeking to house my father—his majesty King Henrik—and as many of my men as