Page 11 of The Ostler's Boy

“ H ow dare you!” I cried, all but barrelling after Lord Evergreen. My voice rolled off the walls impatiently. “How dare you! You don’t like me, and yet you compliment my face?”

He scoffed, but he didn’t stop or turn around.

“I don’t believe I’ve said that, Your Highness,” he said.

“You did! I heard you! You said no face as–”

“That I didn’t like you,” he corrected.

I scoffed. “That’s just it. You haven’t. You haven’t said more than three words to me since I arrived here in Chalke if you don’t include the square, which I hardly think we should, considering you blatantly lied to the Prince about meeting me. You’re welcome for not outing you, by the way!”

“You did out me!” We faced off. “You told him we’d met!”

“I meant that I did not tell him you knew my name!” I said. “You knew my name and my rank and that I was–”

He stared at my finger in his face until I dropped it. He said, “I apologize if I have insulted you, Your Highness. I simply mistook you for someone else.”

“Mistook? You mistook me? Don’t you spin your yarn at me, Lord Evergreen! I told you who I was, and I know you heard it! You let me make a fool of myself, introducing…myself! Ugh! And now I sound like an idiot, thanks to you!”

“I don’t think I can take credit for that,” he said. “That’s a natural ability, it seems.”

I gasped. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said nothing,” he lied.

“You—! You did say it! Just like you said I was fair! How dare you compliment and insult me so satirically! I don't know whether I should be angry with you, or, or-”

“Again, I apologize,” he said. “It was a joke.”

“A joke!” I huffed. “A joke, he says, immediately after calling me a fool! You must truly think it.”

Cyrus started walking again, and I followed him past several members of the staff, through the hallway, and out into the gardens.

“Would you slow dow–Ah!” He turned to meet me. “Yes. Thank you.” I preened. “Will you not apologize?”

“I didn’t call you a fool; I agreed with your observation about yourself,” he said.

“You—”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere I have to be,” he said.

“Another lie, I’d bet,” I croaked. When he had no answer ready, I half smirked, crossed. “I’ve caught you, have I?”

“Your Highness,” he said.

“I have, and I have figured you out, sir,” I told him.

“Oh, have you?” He squinted.

“Yes,” I said.

“And I bet you’re pretty proud of that, aren’t you?” he asked. “Took you long enough!”

“You don’t like my father!” I snapped. I took a strong posture with the cry. I wasn’t wrong. “It’s very obvious. And yes, I am quite proud.”

Cyrus laughed; he doubled over, and then settled into a nod that let me know that didn’t cover the half of it.

“Nobody likes your father,” he said. “He’s a real ass!”

I gasped another time.

“You should ask your precious Sameer why he is always so busy the days the King arrives.” His shoulders relaxed, and I could see he felt bad for what he’d said. “Your Highness, I–” he started.

“Two things, Lord Evergreen. One. I agree with you. My father is an …an ass ,” I whispered. “And two. Two is, I’m not him. I would prefer that you did not make that mistake again.”

We stood in a stalemate. “Which mistake?” he asked. “That you aren’t your father? A pair of eyes can make that conclusion fine.”

“What? You don’t find my father so fair?” I asked.

“No.” His shoulders danced.

“I am warning you; I can only forgive so much, and you are skating on very thin ice with your low opinion of me,” I said.

“Oh, you think I think lowly of you?” he asked.

“I know you do!”

“I only think that you think entirely too high of yourself, is all,” he said.

“I’m the Queen; I am as high as it goes!”

“You’re not Queen yet; you’re just–”

“Just what?” I asked. “Whatever it is my father did to you; however it is he offended you or your somebody-father, what was it? Did he raise your taxes? Did he close your favorite sword …sword store.…?” I sucked in too much air. “Well, I don’t apologize!”

“You don’t apologize?” he asked so dumbfoundedly that he laughed a couple of times.

“No. I don’t. Why would I? It wasn’t my pen that signed off on anything. So…Do be kind enough to shield me from your criticism, will you? At least until I am on the throne. And then still, because honestly-“ I felt tears swell up into my eyes, and then I tried to swallow them into my core so that he would not see me weak.

“ What?” He waited for some glorious explanation. “What are you talking about, woman?”

“You! Here! An Oreian swordsman, obviously one of our better ones, serving the Crowned Prince of Chalke. You’ve masked your accent. You openly criticize your King! You avoid his daughter and-!”

“I don’t avoid you, and I’ve done none of that!” He paused the moment he stepped closer, and I flinched. Cyrus collected himself enough to begin with a softer voice. “Your Highness… I have been here since I was a young man. I have no accent to mask, and frankly, I don’t understand what this argument is meant to accomplish. Why are you yelling at me? Why did you even pick this fight? Why did you chase me out here like an animal?”

My confession cracked. “I don’t like him, you know?” I was so mad he saw how upset I was. I threw my eyes to the corner of the room to quell them.

“Sameer?” he asked.

“What?” I spat. “No! My father.” l was suddenly aware of the scene we could have made, but by the grace of God, no one was around, save for a few birds passing overhead.

“Of course I like Sameer,” I said.

“You don’t like your father?” he asked, but then he said, “And you think I care?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” I replied. “I agreed with your…”

The lord was just as silent as I was; my words had lost their trajectory. His face contorted in ways I’d never seen another person make at me, and then he moaned.

He said, “You are too kind to monopolize my time so close to your evening plans. Go. Dance. Have fun, and by God, leave me alone.”

I bristled. “I’m only trying to be friendly, Lord Evergreen.”

“Oh, yes, so friendly,” he said. “Yelling at me and such.”

“I am, my lord,” I said. “I truly am. If we’re to cross paths tonight, we cannot be–”

“I’m not a lord,” he said.

“What?”

“I’m not a lord. You won’t see me at your ball.”

“Not a…?” I paused at the fact. After a moment, I added, “But…” But nothing followed.

“It’s just Cyrus Evergreen,” he said. “Not Lord. Not sir. Rarely mister.”

And then I was aware of it—the incredible divide between us.

Cyrus Evergreen was less concerned about who my father was and more bothered by who his wasn't. I felt ashamed for my error and unable to find a means to respond appropriately.

“Enjoy your evening, Your Highness,” he said.

I thought about following him once more. I thought about making him endure another apology– a proper one, one for the brashness of my demeanor, for belittling him by assuming he was of a higher birthright than he was, but– But I was still reeling in my vanity and in how little attention he’d paid to it.

Mr. Evergreen had carried my dress across a corridor; he had commented on my beauty. And I?

I chased him outside and then yelled at him.

I was such a brat.

“Well, that was rather peculiar,” Josie noted.

I closed the door behind me.

“What was?” I asked. I prayed she said anything but Cyrus’s name.

“Lord Evergreen,” she said.

She was waiting for me at the desk, and when I sat down, I took a breath that my bones craved. I looked up just in time to watch Mr. Evergreen stalk across the yard and disappear into the stables.

“Miss Svana?” she asked.

“Sorry,” I muttered. I tried to change direction. “I’m so excited for tonight. Is it still too soon to get ready?”

Josie narrowed her lips into a tight but approving line, and she shook her head. “Why don’t we start with your hair, and then we can see about the dress?”

“Could we?” I asked.

She nodded. “I just don’t want you sitting around in a tight bodice for longer than you have to. Even if it is so very pretty. Corsets are harsh, and I’ve known mistresses who do not know when to loosen them.”

“I’m…” I tried to dispel the memory of Lord Ever– of Mr. Evergreen’s agitation. “I’m very curious to see his reaction,” I said out loud. “Sam’s,” I added. “Sam’s reaction.”

“Of course,” Josie said.

“He did buy this, after all,” I said. “A silly gesture, ha, I think. But a flattering one, the same. Would you agree?”

“Aye,” she agreed. “The Prince seems very kind and very eager to impress you, miss.”

“I think so, too,” I said.

She combed out the rest of my hair and began to knot it into the thicker side braid we had practiced before with Ser Elías.

“Are you sure this is alright?” I worried.

“We can change it back?” she said.

“No! No. Uhm.” I touched the end of it, pulling the tail over my chest to inspect it. “I do think it’s pretty. I think. I’m– Well.”

“Mmhm.”

“Unless you think the dress is too- I don’t know? Tight?” I asked.

We met in my mirror. “You haven’t tried it on since the fitting.”

“No, but I worry.”

“Of course. You should know, though, these are the natural nerves of attending your first real social affair in a royal court,” she said, untwisting my locks. “It’s all very normal given the circumstance, I assure you. I’ve known many ladies who feel such things.”

“I,” I rapped my thumb against my lap. “I suppose you make a sort of sense.”

“Let’s wear the crown tonight,” she said. “It does suit you, after all.”

“…Thank you.”

“Although…” She stopped, finishing the twist.

“What? …What?” I turned around. “You’ve got a look.”

“There’s no look,” she teased.

“Josie!”

“Are you sure you wish to know?” she checked. “It’s not exactly proper, and I would only say it to a friend…”

“What improper thoughts are you withholding?” I asked. “You must tell me now!”

“Only if you insist,” she said.

“I insist!” I said. “Josie! I’m insisting!”

“I just…” She still considered it. “I suppose the sudden dip in your mood has nothing to do with a certain Lord we’ve just encountered… Does it?” She waited for a response.

“...What?” I scoffed. “Please. You embarrass yourself.”

“Oh yes, it’s me who’s embarrassed. My mistake,” she said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“Nothing, but I wouldn’t fault you if you were a bit… excited with his appearance here, in your bedchamber,” she emphasized. “That’s all.”

“He delivered my gown,” I said.

“I was there,” she replied.

“I didn’t invite him.”

“Of course not. Although he is handsome,” she said.

“Handsome?” I asked. “Is he?” I armored my arms to my chest. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Respectfully, Princess, yes, you have,” she said. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“There is nothing to lie about!” I whined. “If he were handsome, I would say, yes, Jocelyn, you are very correct; Mr. Evergreen is very dashing, isn’t he? See? I am capable, you’ll find.”

“My lady, you ran after him into the hall like a market hound seeking a sale,” she said.

“Did you just call me a dog?” I asked.

She went on. “Then the two of you took turns yelling at each other for several minutes until I assume either both of you passed out from lack of air or you took your argument elsewhere.”

“Exactly. Argument,” I said. “If we were fighting, I–Why would I fight with someone I found attractive?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” she asked. “That’s when arguments are the best.”

“What?”

“Are you suggesting that one’s appearance might influence your behavior toward them?” she asked.

“No?”

“No?” She folded her arms. “You don’t sound sure.”

“Fine, he might… He might be a little…”

“Dashing?” she asked.

“Yes,” I whispered. “But you cannot tell anyone I said that!”

“Of course not,” Jocelyn said. She gleamed with a proudness.

“You don’t have to act so smug,” I told her.

“I’m not smug. I’m happy because of something Ser Willoughby said,” she said.

“Ser Willoughby?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “He said I was very observant.”

“Ser Willoughby is an idiot,” I said. Her smile dimmed, and I realized my mistake. “Oh,” I sat up. “...Oh, your… Your mood changed?” I asked. “Because of… Ser Willoughby?” I asked.

She smiled weakly.

“Do you speak often to Ser Willoughby?” I asked.

“...No.”

“You’re as rubbish in your lies as I am!”

She pouted through a laugh. “I’m afraid you’re correct. Then you admit he’s handsome, then?”

“Ser Willoughby? Gross!”

“No!” she cried. “No, Lord Evergreen!”

“Oh!” I shook my head. “I don’t know. Sure? That is, if you like brutish men, adamant on getting the last jab in an argument? Completely and totally absorbed in their own awe….That… I can’t think of a proper insult.”

“That sounds quite a bit like you,” she said.

“I’m not brutish!”

“Miss Svana,” she said.

“I’m not! Even Mr. Evergreen said I was elegant!”

“What?”

“Oh, never mind! What good is it to say yes, anyway?” I asked her. “I’m betrothed to the Prince, and the Prince is… nice. I like nice.”

She nodded. “Alright. Then, I will admit that I speak to Ser Willoughby as much as I do anyone back home. Though I must defend him somehow, he is not as ill-witted as you have labeled him. He’s actually very smart.”

“That feels suspect,” I said.

Josie moved to the gown. “Have you ever spoken to him?”

“He’s my cousin. I speak to him daily.”

“Like as a person?” she asked. “Or as a servant?”

“I–” I stopped. “Ser Willoughby is a knight, not a servant, and I speak to him as I do anyone else, royalty, duke, lady, or servant.”

“If that’s the truth, why must you categorize us?” she asked.

I didn’t know.

She smoothed the skirt, commenting on the design.

“It is sort of a ridiculous pattern, though, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Do not let Lord Evergreen’s poor taste affect your confidence, miss.”

“Cyrus,” The correction left my mouth before I knew it.

“Cyrus?” she parroted. “One fight in the hallway, and now we’re on a first-name basis?”

“No!” I hurried. “No, I was mistaken before of his title. He’s not a lord at all. That’s what I meant. And why do you think that I care what Mr . Evergreen, Not-A-Lord thinks of my dress anyway? I don’t! No, I do not. That’s for sure.”

“Clearly,” she said.

I struggled to loosen the ties of my blouse and had to work even harder to slink out of it and into a better-suited shift for the night.

“He is brash and rude, really,” I continued. “Though he does dress remarkably well.” My brows dropped, looking at the filigree even closer. “Do you think he’s right? About the details?”

Josie mused on some thought.

“What?” I pressed.

“Mr. Evergreen said it was beautiful,” she said. “Remember? When he’d actually seen it for what it was.”

“Well. I don’t care either way,” I lied.

“He also said you would be the fairest face for miles,” she reminded me.

“Oh, what does he know?” I argued.

She sat against the vanity and waited for me to pick up some implication I didn’t get.

“What?” I asked.

“I just think a man like Mr. Evergreen knows a beautiful woman when he sees her,” she said. “I would take his word over your insecurity.”

“A man like Mr. Evergreen? What kind of man is that?”

She waited. “Seriously?” she asked. “A… A flirt, Miss Svana. A rake.”

“Mr. Evergreen’s a rake?” I asked. “Oh, my god! He was in my room!”