Page 25 of The Ostler's Boy

M r. Evergreen replied promptly to my request. He suggested that we meet at noon on Thursday. However, noon on Thursday did not feel soon enough, and from the moment I sent my confirmation of our plans, I was on edge. It did not matter that he had agreed to see me. It did not matter that he had done so within the hour of my notice, or that his response said that he was looking forward to it. When I closed my eyes to sleep, it felt as if I’d merely blinked, and Josie had to physically rouse me.

Breakfast was a balance of dodging awkward conversation with and around my soon-to-be father-in-law and my fiancé. The two of them transitioned topics from the suspected, nonsensical whispers of the social court to the lack of developments in their horse investigation at rapid fire. They spoke only to each other on the latter, and when I did intrude, I was instructed to be patient. Then, only Sam’s incredible desire to rid me of his presence for the day angered me further, and, by the time I made it to the swordsman at the stables for our adventure, I was furious.

Mr. Evergreen looked up from what he was working on–some filigree clasp on one of the leather straps. He arched his brow.

“I must confess, I was worried you wouldn’t show,” he said. “Your note was vague.”

“I want to ride Isaac,” I told him. “Right now.”

“Good morning, my dear Cyrus,” he replied, calibrating his voice to the role of mine. Then he was himself again. “It is a good morning, isn’t it, Princess? Thank you for greeting me so kindly. You humble a man like me.”

“It’s after noon,” I declared. My finger jutted toward my mare’s saddle. “Lift me up.”

“Sure,” he replied. “Right onto Tails with that mood. ”

I scoffed. “You cannot guess my mood simply by how I’ve darkened your doorstep!”

His mouth opened, and he chuckled. “Look, I don’t have to guess. You’re the most obvious woman in the world and, apparently, the most inappropriate as well. I am a gentleman, Your Highness. So I ask, do you know what that means?”

“What what means?” I flustered. “Gentleman?”

“Darkening my door,” he said slowly.

“Oh!” I huffed for it. “S-Stop traveling into every terrible crevice you can fit your head into, you snake! Gentleman, you say, but opposite, you act. I am not as corrupt as you, Mr. Evergreen. I am a?—”

“A lady? Yes, yes. And my, it shows, doesn’t it?” He glanced over my shoulder and through the door. “Pray tell, Lady Eisson , who might I thank for agitating you like this?” His gaze skirted over me once before he sarcastically offered me his hand and promptly ushered me toward the other steed. “Was it Miss Jocelyn? No, she wouldn’t hurt a fly. Perhaps it was the ever-cheerful Ser Elías? Or maybe,” he shrugged. “Maybe you just want to?—”

“I want to ride Ice,” I said. “She’s mine.”

“Tell you what…” Cyrus’s eyes narrowed. “Ride Tails now, and?—”

“I want?—“

“And if you allow yourself to smile by the time we get to the farm, I’ll concede her willingly. On my honor.”

“…You mock me,” I hissed. “What honor?”

“You’re rather sharp today, aren’t you?” he asked. “And here I thought I was the Blade.”

“You’re mocking me,” I said.

“No. That’s not what’s happening here,” he explained. “I’m bartering. Vastly different.”

He went to help me onto the stallion, but I was too angry and too proud to allow or want his assistance. His hand lingered in my shadow for a moment after I had scaled Tails and before he got onto Ice.

“Right. Where to, love?” he asked.

Isaac was, as usual, peaceful beneath her rider. She was not at all the rioting animal that he kept trying to convince me that she was. She was well-mannered and did most of what he asked her to do, which was more than other horses might agree to on routine. That gave us the ability to trade mindless questions back and forth. Each held no real destination, nor did they matter beyond filling the silence, but their existence quelled part of the worry I carried for Mr. Evergreen…for our dynamic. I had accused him of being my only companion and, after I’d suspected that he’d wanted to kiss me, insulted him. He wanted to kiss me, though. Or he had wanted to. I was pretty certain that I was certain, but I had also denied the act. I had denied him . Because of that, I could not be sure if he felt solely obligated to join me at risk of my wrath, or if he had ultimately decided that traveling together was his only means of entertainment.

I peered at him as we rode; I inspected his every answer and twisted feature in an attempt to determine if he was tense or annoyed, and I thought about the way we’d parted before he’d left for his hunt.

“I’ve got one, then,” he said, near-startling me from the drift of what his mouth might feel like.

I tsked. “You know it’s my turn, correct?” I waved it off. “Isn’t it?”

“Is it?” he asked.

I wasn’t sure.

“It’s a good one,” he added. “I think you’ll like it.”

“...Fine. Go on. I shall allow you to break the rules this once if you believe I’ll like it.”

“Oh, I do think you like breaking rules,” he muttered.

“What?”

“What is your most prized possession?” he asked.

“My most prized possession?” I checked. “That’s a good question to you? What in the world does that even mean?”

“Come,” he insisted. “Don’t be shy now, you’ve already told me the color of your shift.”

“You can see the sleeve,” I reminded him, holding up my arm. “Besides, a man like you could guess.”

That made him laugh. “The color of your shift? You flatterer. Or perhaps you meant your favorite item? I’m afraid either gives me too much power here. I can guess neither.”

“Now you’ve changed the question,” I said. “Most prized and favorite are different things.”

“Princess.”

I didn’t give another response.

“Right.” Cyrus sat taller. “I’ll go first. My most prized possession is my sword. Favorite’s the same.”

“Oh no, the shock,” I said. “The Sword likes swords. How strange.”

He shrugged. “I’ll have you know, my father purchased this blade for me after we arrived in Chalke. I like to think of him when I swing it.”

“And I’m sure if your opponents knew how sentimental you were, it would strike fear into their hearts!” I laughed, and he frowned.

“Spoken like an Eisson,” he said. “Out for blood.”

“Well, I…” I paused. “I suppose I cannot truly tease you, Mr. Evergreen. Your answer is deeper than I would’ve given you credit for, originally, but perhaps you are a poet and not a philosopher at all?”

“I am a businessman,” he said.

“You are?” I asked.

“Yes. And I have a deal for you,” he said.

“I think the word you meant was charlatan. ”

“If you call me Cyrus, I won’t make fun of you for whatever your answer is.”

“That is as incredibly unlikely as it is inappropriate for our relationship, Mr. Evergreen,” I replied.

“Is it, though?” he asked. “More inappropriate than riding alone out here?”

I scowled. “This arrangement was your idea,” I argued.

“Technically, it was Sameer’s,” he said.

“You said it was appropriate because of that!”

“And I gave you the opportunity to end our rides last week. Yet, you summoned me, yes?”

“…Yes, but?—”

“But we spend all day together, several days a week, for what has been, and I suspect, will be all summer. Do you not feel we’ve surpassed some formalities by now? What with our blossoming friendship?”

“I…” I’m sure he heard my molars as they struck each other, but I tried to gather my thoughts articulately. “Sir. You must understand…”

“Oh yes. Tell me,” he said. “I’m ready for my scolding. And I know you are dying to educate me somehow, so please. Feel free.”

“Sir… Mr. Evergreen… Oreian women are encouraged to call only men who have, um, well, declared their intent to marry them by their first names. You see, when a courtship begins, the lady must first agree. Well. The gentleman must first announce himself and then she agrees to the courtship, and only then is it proper for her to call him by his given name. Unless they are related.”

“You call Sameer by his,” he replied.

“Yes. I will marry His Highness soon. See how that applies?”

Cyrus frowned. “Sam did not declare himself.”

I paused. “Well. No…”

“And you did not accept,” he said.

“No, I did not. But my father arranged the marriage,” I explained.

“Did Sameer declare his intent to His Majesty, then?” he asked.

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Hmm.”

“What hmm? There is no hmm, sir. The fact is…” I shook my head, gripping my rein on and off and shifting. “The fact is that the marriage is there. It will happen. Sam asked me to call Sam, so, I call him Sam. Actually, I call him His Highness now. Thank you very much.”

“But he did not declare himself,” he said. “Even before.”

“What part of this is difficult for you to comprehend?” I asked. “Perhaps if I could identify the word or concept you’re stuck on, I could?—”

“Sameer did not declare himself,” he pressed. “He asked you to call him Sam; I asked you to call me Cyrus. I did not declare myself, nor would I, as once again, I do not meet the prerequisite of your instruction.”

“The what?”

“The prerequisite. It means?—”

“Are you—? Do not dare define the word prerequisite to me, Sword! I knew the meaning of that before you knew your alphabet!”

“That’s a statement!” he cheered.

“You irk me,” I muttered.

“And you think, because I am some stable buck, I could not be half as smart as you,” he said.

“…No.”

“You hesitated,” he said.

I said, “I don’t think you’re stupid because you're poor.”

“I’m not poor,” he said.

“I meant.” I sighed, giving up and letting out a whine. “I’m sorry,” I said.

Cyrus cocked his head around.

“It’s all I can say. My words were… I…You…” Finally, I just withdrew. “I’m sorry.”

“Prerequisite.”

I frowned.

“Just wanted to see if it angered you,” he said.

“Mr. Evergreen.”

“Are you calling me mister to prove a point?” he asked.

“No, Mr. Evergreen.” I shut my eyes, opened them, and exhaled, just to catch the ends of his lips as they sank.

He said, “We both know that your answer will be far more sentimental than mine. We both know I’ll have every right to exploit that. Deal or no deal, Your Royal Highness Princess Svana Eisson, first of her name?”

I eyed him. “Seriously?”

“Deal or no deal?” he asked.

“The fact that you have to bargain with me over your level of public ridicule defeats the very purpose of the trade, Mr. Businessman. It no longer matters if you vocalize your laughter, I’ll know you will be laughing internally , which, to me, is somehow worse. No deal.”

He snickered. “Then how do I convince you to tell me what you like?”

I shrugged. “And there you’ve changed the question again.”

“I did not.”

“Is this some sort of test?” I asked.

“A test? No. It’s an attempt to know you, love,” he said.

“How do you not know me?” I asked. “You just gave me a hundred anticipations of my answers.”

“You’re the Princess,” he said.

“Yes. The Princess that you have spoken to each other every day and?—”

“And you’ve put a wall between us.”

“I— What? What wall?” I asked.

“That wall.”

“There’s no wall. Why would there be? And why do you care what you know of me anyway?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked. “Come. Do you not wonder what sort of man I am? Whom you spend your hours with?”

I cast my eyes astride. “No, I think I know.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Sometimes…”

“Only sometimes?” he asked.

I nodded noncommittally. “If you must have an answer, you must grant me more time to stall while I consider the question and how to phrase my response.”

“It cannot be so hard,” he pestered.

“To most, no,” I said. “But it is to me. I overanalyze each word. There. That is something you can know. Does that suffice?”

“That you overanalyze?” he asked. “No. Anyone might surmise that by simply engaging in a singular interaction.”

“I… Yes, but.”

“But what? Just pick an object, Your Highness.”

“I cannot. The words are different.”

“Barely.”

“But they are.”

“No one is grading you, Svana.”

“You are, and… Please, understand.”

“An entire kingdom at your fingertips, and nothing comes to mind?” he asked. “Your answer is supposed to be quick. Whatever comes to you. That’s the game.”

“Yes, but it is precisely because there are so many ideas that I am slow to pick,” I said.

“What about the horses back home?” he asked.

“The horses? I wouldn’t consider them possessions , sir. My instincts tell me, neither would you.”

“I’m just looking for what you like.”

I groaned. “Again, you’re asking separate concepts. For example, I have many favorite novels, but if they were to burn in a fire or get wet, I’d simply replace them. I like many dresses, but if they ripped I’d write the modiste for something new. Prized; at least to me, feels as though it should be something I would mourn the loss of or be incapable of replicating its existence should it be destroyed.”

“I did not mean for this to be so deep,” he said.

“I know, and I apologize, but… But this is who I am.”

Cyrus’s face was warm. It was concerned. I felt bad and sick to my gut.

“My…” My throat was dry, and I hated that I felt compelled to rattle on. “Mr. Evergreen, my governess was… strict. I do not declare this to earn your pity but instead to explain my impairment with your question.”

“Strict?” he asked.

“Yes. My father hired her specifically for her specialization in etymology and its importance within political structure. I…I have been conditioned to process information differently than you or others do, I’ve found, not because I am royalty, but because of my exposure to her skills.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry, I… Let me try again. If I answer your question poorly, you’ll think I am a brat. I…“ I swallowed. “Patience is a virtue, sir. One that I both require in this moment and will cherish should you grant it. Yes, it is difficult for me to make such a decision. On the surface, it presents simplistically, but inside myself, I am worried to say it wrong.”

“Ah, I see now,” he said. “You’re traumatized.”

“I did not mean?—!”

“No, I was being sincere,” he said. “Prized, love. That’s what I’m after here. What matters most to you? What would you mourn the loss of?”

I sighed.

“You truly will not confess?” he asked. “Or do you not know?”

“That depends. How terribly will you tease me for my answer?” I asked.

“Not sure there’s a measure so large.”

“Then I value nothing,” I said.

“Oh, come on!” he cried with a grin. “Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?” he asked.

“No. Just assume I am as shallow as you believe I am and ask me something else.”

“I do not think you’re shallow.”

“You just told me you would mock me for my answer, and besides, it’s since rotted and withered away, like most things of beauty do. It is not as if you will see its appraisal.”

“Rotted and withered? Are you a taxidermist, Princess? Disgusting!”

“Ugh!” I groaned. “It was a feather!”

“A feather?” he asked. He looked shocked.

“I meant…” A sharp breath left my lips. “I, well, yes. A feather. Once. I don’t know. Oh! You are so awful to me,” I said. “I don’t know why I entertain your terror. Please. Forget it.”

“A feather?” he asked again. “Like from a bird?”

“Yes. A feather, sir. From a swan, not just any bird,” I said. “It was a gift , alright? One you’ll prod me details for, I have no doubt, but what’s the use?”

Then a weaselly sort of smile stretched across his jaw.

I twisted the chords in my lap. “You promised not to laugh,” I said.

“If you called me Cyrus. Though, I’m glad you did not, as I cannot believe you’re most prized possession is a dirty old feath-”

“Spare me!” I spat. Miraculously he stopped. “It wasn’t a dirty feather. It was a gift.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “From a boy.”

“Yes.” I did not look at him, fearing he would somehow read my mind and pluck Ser Willem from its depths. But he already knew.

“The ostler’s boy,” he said.

“No!” I lied.

“Yes!”

“Gah! Must I beg you not to conjure him?”

Mr. Evergreen lit with the way that humored him so heartedly that only after a minute of admiring my pain could he say, “How could I not? He’s the only thing you ever talk about!”

“He is not!” I said. “ He’s not the only thing I talk about! I speak of many things. Many topics. Many places. Many people. It’s not like-! Stop laughing. I’m trying to— Stop it!”

“Now you’ll try and convince me he’s not the boy you kissed?”

“Swans mate for life!” I cried. “I took the feather as a sign he believed us to be soulmates, Mr. Evergreen. So yes. I-” I lowered my voice. “I kissed him for it. You will take that to your grave!”

“Is that what you thought of the gift?” he asked, elated. “That he was calling you his soulmate?”

“What other motive would he have?”

“I couldn’t be too sure,” Cyrus wheezed. “I haven’t been a young man in many years.”

“Swans are dangerous!”

“Oh, I know,” he said.

“Willem risked his life for me! He was a romantic!” I said.

“A romantic, was he? And are we ignoring the fact that your name is literally the Old Oreian word for swan, with an ‘a’ at the end of it?”

“What?”

“I don’t think he was romantic. I think he was making a joke at your expense. He probably didn’t realize how psychotic they were until he got there. Seriously, love. Had you been named Dove, Sameer, and his father would have spent a fraction of the copper they did for ice for your ball.”

“I–” I puffed my chest. “You think Will was what? Insincere in his affection for me?”

“No,” he said. “No, I just don’t think the boy was being purposely romantic at all. I think he knew you liked birds. Soulmates!” he teased. “My God, Swan. Such a thought. How old were you again?”

I pursed my lips at him. “Oh, hush!” I said though I had begun to question the boy’s devotion. “You’re a cynic.”

“Oh, definitively,” he said. “But I’ve always been this way.”

“And you’re jealous,” I dug.

“Soulmates,” he muttered.

“You can taunt me all you want, Mr. Evergreen, but I know what I know, and I know that Will loved me and that I—” I stopped.

“Oh, he loved you?” he asked.

I looked away into a tree to keep from crying.

“How can you be sure?”

“You weren’t there,” I stated. “I know what I know. You know nothing of it.”

“Maybe, but I do know one thing. I would’ve brought you back something from the hunt had I known this was the kind of girl you were, Princess.”

“Oh, eat sand!” I spat.

“Eat sand?” His eyes flashed wider, and he cracked a buoyant laugh. “Struck a nerve, have I?”

I took a deep breath.

“Tell me. What would you have liked from me? A token from the nearby shop?” He slid off Ice and plucked a single flower from the path, then presented it to me. “Or something closer to your bird? Here. This is white. What does this buy me?”

I galloped on ahead.

“Wait!” he cried. “Wait! I could find a feather! Give me but a moment!”

I was nearly to the bend when a loud, high whistle tore through the air and brought Tails to an absolute halt. I kicked him and tried to urge him on, but the traitorous bastard let Cyrus catch up.

“Good boy,” the swordsman told him, stroking his neck. He was still happy when he offered me his hand to help me down.

I took it, but my feet went firmly into the dirt, and I gawked angrily at his face as his palms slid to my hips. They were warm and large, and as quickly as I had protested their arrival, the smile left Mr. Evergreen’s face, and we were caught in a would-be, almost-embrace, and he was serious.

He came forward in the slightest way. He dropped his hands; his voice was husky.

“Are you going to tell me about him?” he asked. “About the kiss?”

“I am not,” I replied.

“Why?” He smirked. He returned his arms but higher, pinning them to the horse’s side, and in either direction of my cheeks. “I’ll tell you about my first kiss.”

“I have many regrets sharing any of this with you,” I said. “I wish you would forget.”

“A kiss is nothing to forget,” he whispered. “I’m sure your knight would agree. I’m sure he still thinks about it, Swan. I’m sure he compares every woman he thinks about to you.”

I backed into Tails. “Don’t call me that,” I said.

“Call you what? Swan?”

I wanted to complain, to throw whatever verbal dagger I had at him, but the proximity, the angle, and the meaning of whatever it was he was doing entrapped me in a frenzy I could not compete with.

He said, “I’d wager he’d pay any price to kiss your perfect lips again . Would you let him? Even if he did not declare himself?”

“Do not toy with me, Sword,” I said, squaring. “I do not appreciate being the victim of your jokes.”

“You think I’m joking?” he asked. His eyes were fixed to mine. “How could he not want to kiss you, Svana?” he asked.