Step one: Rob the treasury wagons. Six robberies already accomplished without mishap.
Step two: Find a safe contact in each village who could distribute the goods to those in need. Gabril had taken care of that to mitigate the risk that someone untrustworthy might see the resemblance between Lorelai and the late king and curry favor with the queen by reporting it.
Step three: Let the rumors of the robberies become attached to the idea of the princess returning to claim her throne so that she could build a base of loyalty. She hadn’t actually figured out how to do that yet.
She hadn’t, but Leo had. She glanced at him and sighed. She was never going to hear the end of this.
“You’re right, Leo,” she said. Gabril and Leo turned to look at her as the road dipped between a stand of pines whose needles were turning brown and a meadow of brittle grass.
“Of course I am.” He paused. “About what?”
“We need a name. Something that can give the villagers someone to be loyal to.”
Leo’s eyes lit up. “That’s what I’ve been telling you. And I overlooked Gabril’s involvement—my apologies—which opens up an entirely new list of possibilities. The Fearsome Threesome.”
“Not quite,” Lorelai said.
“The Triumphant Trio.”
“No.” Gabril turned on his heel and kept walking.
“We could always return to the Royal Rogues. No number specified.”
“No,” Gabril and Lorelai said together.
Leo huffed out a breath. “You two display such a staggering lack of imagination, it’s a wonder I survive.”
“We’ll have to put some more thought into it,” Lorelai said.
“Meanwhile, the two of you haven’t been practicing courtly conversation like I asked.” Gabril’s voice was stern. “You can’t interact with our nobility or that of Ravenspire’s allies if you forget your etiquette.”
“I never forget my etiquette.” Leo looked wounded.
“You aren’t the sibling I’m concerned about.” Gabril gave Lorelai a meaningful look, and she huffed impatiently.
“Courtly conversation is tedious. I have better things to do.”
“Better things than convincing our nobility that you can lead a kingdom, maintain its allies, secure new ones, and interact with royalty without bringing shame upon the kingdom of Ravenspire?”
“I was kind of hoping vanquishing Irina would take care of all that.”
Leo grinned. “I could be your mouthpiece. Think of it! You’d be the mysterious mardushka who never speaks, and I’d be the voice of Ravenspire issuing orders, correcting fashion disasters—Did you see what Lord Horst was wearing last time we were in his village? Ghastly.—and assuring one and all that my sister can smite them where they stand if they don’t obey.”
Gabril raised a brow at Lorelai.
“Okay, fine. I’ll practice courtly conversation.”
She turned toward Leo, who gave her a cheeky grin. “You are looking most fetching this morning. Though I only have Gabril for comparison, so take that as you will.”
Lorelai snorted. “Fetching? What kind of stupid compliment is that?”
“I’m pretty sure snorting is beneath royalty.” Leo sounded smug.
“Fine. You also look most fetching. So fetching, in fact, that I might allow Sasha to share her meal with you after all.” Lorelai laughed as Leo glanced uneasily at the sky.
“When I said courtly conversation, I meant it.” Gabril swept a rotted branch from the road, sending it skittering into the ditch. “Enough foolishness.”
“Pretend I’m a visiting ambassador from Akram,” Leo suggested.
“Why do you get to be the visiting ambassador?”
“Because I thought of it first.”
Lorelai glared. “Next time I get to be the visiting ambassador, and you have to come up with stupid conversation to pass the time.”
“I had no idea Ravenspire princesses were so uncouth,” he said in a near-perfect imitation of an Akram accent—long vowels, choppy consonants, and a mesmerizing singsong cadence that Lorelai found impossible to mimic.
Her answering smile bared all her teeth. “I hope your journey wasn’t too arduous, my lord, and that you are in good health. When you have refreshed yourself with sleep, I would love to give you my undivided attention so that we may discuss various issues of interest to both our kingdoms.”
“Better,” Gabril said. “Now practice how to negotiate with brokers from Balavata. After that, we’ll deal with the customs of Llorenyae.”