Page 18 of The Ostler's Boy

“ W hat does duty mean?” Cyrus asked.

Our horses strolled happily a few feet apart from each other. He rode Ice for himself and paired me with Tails for the second time, and between how slowly the stallion moved and my own moody dwelling, his question jolted me.

“Beg pardon, sir?” I asked.

I had been thinking about the weeping petaled trees around us, wondering if the oaks back home had gotten their leaves yet. Despite his eagerness for my company, the journey had been mostly silent. I watched Cyrus too closely as he ventured in and out of his thoughts, and I debated sharing mine.

A light wind rustled one of the blossoming branches, carrying its discarded flowers down over us like cherry-kissed snow. I went to ask if he’d felt the same reminder of ísfjall’s mountains that I had found or if he was even from the higher parts of home, but when I opened my mouth, no words came out. I checked to see if he was watching me, but he was focused on the path ahead.

“Duty,” he said louder. “You said ‘duty never rests’ to Sam this morning.”

I shrugged. “He said it first, sir. In the stables, I mean. I…It’s not important, just a silly prod.”

“I remember that conversation,” he said. “I was there.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot,” I replied.

Cyrus laughed. “You humble me,” he said. “Forgetting an entire person is not an easy thing to do, but I’ll assume you were blinded by the jealousy and did not intend to impale my self-esteem.”

“I–” My lips met. “If you wish to speak of injured vanities, you could at least look at me when you make your commentary.”

Cyrus did. I was no better with his intrusive, piercing gaze.

“I was not jealous,” I said.

“Have we not established you don’t have to lie to me?” he asked.

“All I meant was that the Prince said ‘duty never rests’ to me first,” I explained.

“Aye, but I’m not asking about what the Prince said; I’m asking what duty means from you, Princess.”

“I suppose I don’t understand the inquiry then, sir. Would you like me to break down the etymology of each word within the sentence, or-?”

“Just duty’s fine,” he said. “I think I could manage to define the rest.”

“I’m not so sure,” I replied. “Don’t be shy. I am well-read and can assist you where needed, sir.”

“Oh, are you?” he asked. “Then tell me, what does Cyrus mean?”

I paused. “Cyrus?”

“See?” he said. “Does that not feel better from your lips? Better than Mr. Evergreen?”

I blushed.

“Say it again,” he said.

“I– I meant.” I scoffed lightly. “I only meant to repeat the word you wished for me to define, Mr. Evergreen.”

“Yes. Cyrus. Tell me the etymology of that name,” he said.

“It’s… It’s a southern name,” I said.

“Aye. And what does it mean?” he asked.

There was a fragile split in our floral backdrop; the afternoon’s light cut through the cracks and slithers of space between the final few trees. When they vanished altogether, our road became a far more open pasture of greens and beryls.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I am angry that I don’t know.”

“Shall I tell you?” he asked. “Or would you prefer to ponder a while longer so that you can feign victory when it dawns on you?”

“Dawns?” I asked.

“You’re close,” he said.

“I’m… Sun!” I declared. “Sunlight. Your name means sunlight!”

Cyrus gave me his best gentleman’s nod, appearing beside me. Ice’s coat shimmered in the day.

He said, “In old Oreian, duty is an obligation. A debt that must be paid.”

“A debt to God,” I added. “It’s not some recreational payment one can rearrange upon their own free will. There is a morality that binds its bearer to it.”

“And you bear a duty?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “It is my duty to marry the Prince.”

“Why?” he asked.

“W-Why?” I checked. “I–It’s in the Treaty, Mr. Evergreen. The Treaty that God allowed in exchange for peace between our nations.”

“God?” he asked. He cracked a raspy laugh. “Was it not the Kings that drew it up?”

“The Crown is Head of the Church, sir,” I explained. “Surely a man so educated to know the meaning behind a name understands the meaning behind a monarchy?”

“Have I struck a nerve, love?” he asked.

“N-No.”

“Then I’ll ask, is duty something that’s important to you?”

“Yes,” I croaked. “I’m the Princess!”

“Please. Court and class have nothing to do with finding worth within a word,” he said, “Grand example? My name. You want another? Duty. Neither is important to the Prince, but especially not duty. In fact, as you might have gathered, His Highness uses that particular word ironically because it means nothing to him, you see?”

“I may have gathered that, yes,” I said. “After the thought, but still. I do understand that my…my devotion to this pairing is further along than his. I am not a fool, sir.”

“Yet, you seem to believe there’s a real weight behind the term,” he said. “Duty must mean a great deal to you, yes?”

I tsked. “Such deep thoughts. I hadn’t realized you were a philosopher , Mr. Evergreen.”

“You call your knight Eli, but you cannot call me Cyrus?” he asked. His hand pressed softly to the small of my back. “Relax. You’re stiff again.”

I moved closer to the horn, worried I’d feel the blasted heat from his touch if he lingered too long.

“I-I don’t understand why this saddle is so uncomfortable,” I muttered.

“It’s because you’re stiff,” he told me.

“How am I supposed to break a horse I’m not even riding, anyway?” I asked. He didn’t answer me. “I feel like there should be riding involved.”

She snorted, I thought, in agreeance, settling only with Cyrus’s touch to her neck.

“…You are riding,” he said, shushing her after.

“I’m riding Tails, who just so happens to be the world’s most proper gentleman. He probably came out of his mother tamed,” I said.

“He did not,” he replied. “He just spent most of his anger in the war.”

“Oh, I–” I petted his mane. “I’m sorry; I didn’t know.”

“I’m sure he forgives you,” he said.

I groaned. “But why do you get-?”

“No chance you’ll run out of questions, is there?” he asked.

“Beg-”

“Pardon, sir!” he mocked me.

By the end of his impression, I was seriously trying to ignite him into a spontaneous act of combustion.

Finally, he added, “You and Ice don’t even know each other. Let her catch your smell.”

“Catch my smell?” I asked.

“Yes. She’s a sensitive girl. She needs to get used to having you around, ma’am,” he said. “So avoid your natural unpleasantness. I’d wager it doesn’t make you many friends; I’m not sure why you’d default to it with her.”

“First of all, don’t call me ma’am; I feel as though you’ve aged me twenty years,” I said. “Second, that was incredibly rude. I do think you speak too freely with me, sir.”

“You’re upset because it’s true,” he moaned.

“I’m upset because it’s rude,” I said. “But sure, I suppose I could adapt a different approach. Let’s see. Perhaps I’ll make people I know nothing about feel bad for how strangers perceive them, highlight their already known flaws, and then give them unsolicited advice about such things. Yes. That feels more natural in attracting friendship, I believe.” I looked pointedly at him as he raised a brow.

“Was that off the top of your head?” He laughed. “Brava.”

“It’s not funny,” I told him. “You lured me out here just to ignore me, and now you’re taking jabs at me. It’s quite horrible, in case you wondered, but gone are the days you’ll accuse me of being nice, at least.”

“Are they?” he asked. “I’m not convinced. Though, I’ll admit, I’m still figuring you out, Your Highness.”

We made it to the top of the hill and paused so that he could tell me which way the Palace was to our location. We’d ridden far enough to lose sight of it with all the variations of land and forest, and though I’d never admit it to his face, I was happy to have Cyrus’s sure sense. It was too easy to feel lost in the rolling hillside without it— without him.

I sighed. “...I imagine Sameer and Aggy are having fun wherever they are. That’s whom his appointments are with, are they not?”

He didn’t take the bait and continued to guide me. The chapel I would be married in was to the east. I committed it to memory by associating it as the closest marker to home— after my vows were said, that’s where I would go—public approval, whispers or not.

There was an old farmstead north, though no one lived there, and a little past that was an iron smith. I cringed internally at the latter, leaping to another subject to take my mind off of fiery steel as Cyrus discussed the tradesmith’s mark.

“They’re intimate then?” I asked. “Is it just her, or are there other women I should be warned about?”

He barely looked at me as he led Ice carefully down the other side. He shushed her another time, stroking her hair.

“Easy, love,” he said.

“You don’t have to shield my feelings, Mr. Evergreen. If my husband is a social man, I’m very sure that I want to know,” I explained. When he remained silent, I went on. “Why did I agree to this? You barely speak to me unless it’s to insult me and-”

He said, “I have yet to insult you, despite how certain you are of that.”

“You told me I was unpleasant.”

“Did I?” he asked.

“Yes.” I followed him, holding the reins a little tighter. “And naturally so. You declared it my default presentation.”

“That does sound like something I’d say,” he said. “And it does appear to be true.”

“I am not unpleasant!” I said. “I am being judged unfairly due to my position, and I am only asking you to spare me from a life of uncertainty. Are you not kind enough a man to do that?”

“I’m really not,” he said. “I’m unpleasant, too.”

“That’s not what I hear! But fine! That works for me just as well. If you’re so mean, tell me the truth. Go on, hurt my feelings with the harsh reality of my future, sir!”

“Princess.”

“In Oreia, we have a saying. If you–”

“I’m sure I’ve heard it!” he snapped.

I shifted on Tails, and Cyrus let out an irritated breath and stroked the back of his horse's head. He motioned for me to continue.

“Fine; what is it?” he asked.

“Well, I’m not going to tell you now,” I said.

He heaved a heavy sigh. “Oh, pray, why ever not?”

“I wouldn’t want to be unpleasant,” I said.

“Are we still on that?” he asked. “I apologized.”

“No, you did not.”

“Didn’t I?” Cyrus paused. “I meant to.”

“Still not an apology, sir,” I said. “Believe me, I am keeping track of what you say and don’t say.”

“Are you now?” he asked. “Great. Could you compile everything into a nice little book for me? I’d like to share it with my children someday.” He faked a display with his hand. “‘How I Survived Hell with the Princess One Summer.’ Yes. Quite the ring to it.”

“You think you’re funny,” I said.

“On the contrary, I know I’m a riot,” he said. “Now. Just tell me the saying so that I may escape this cycle, please.”

“Why don’t you guess it instead?” I sneered.

“What?”

“You’re the expert on every single Oreian saying ever– old and new. It shouldn’t take you too long.”

“Princess.” He narrowed his eyes.

I didn’t bend, and he grunted. Ice did, too.

“Even the horse agrees with me,” I said.

“The horse is agitated,” he corrected.

“Then stop agitating her, sir.”

“Me? You’re over there, stewing in your-”

Isaac stomped, revisiting the first two or three feet she had passed. We shared a worried look, and I lowered my voice.

“If you call a wolf, you call the pack,” I said.

“…What?” he asked. “What incoherent nonsense is that? Hey!” He called to his mare, pulling her cord. “Settle down.”

“Well, it would’ve made more sense if you’d have let me say it when we were on the topic, but-“

“What topic?” he asked. “Is there a rhyme to all of this?”

I flustered. “Ugh! Please, sir. I am trying to get there!”

He shook his head somewhere between disbelief and disappointment. “Shh. Shh. Shh.”

“Did you just shush me?” I cried.

“I shushed the horse,” he said.

“It’s just.” I huffed. “It’s been my experience that rakish fellows travel in packs, much like wolves. So, between the facts that I have gathered and-“

“Oh, Christ,” he scoffed, eliciting my gasp. “What facts have you gathered?”

“If you let me finish-!”

“I-” His mount shuffled backward, threatening to march or rear. Cyrus tightened the rein, singing, “Whoaaa, eyyy. None of that.” When she calmed, he glared in my direction.

I adopted a sweeter tone, masking the venom. “One. You are not particularly offended by the Prince’s behavior!”

“I never expressed that,” he said.

“Two. You made a poor joke about being a rake as soon as we were alone.”

“Poor taste; hardly fact,” he added.

“Well.” I looked between the two of them. “How would I know? You never answered me. Are you a rake?”

He didn’t respond.