Page 3 of The Ostler's Boy

L ight from the lantern flickered over Ser Elías’s sharp jaw. He looked out the window with a frown. The night fell much later in Chalke than back home. Though it was likely the natural bumps and thrashing of the road, three days in a coach had killed the romantic lure of travel, perhaps forever.

Josie slept, leaned against the door while my stomach did somersaults. I watched her rest, noting that she was nothing like the crone she had replaced. At least physically. I hardly knew her personality, but the maid before was stout and brunette—darker than my hair, and she was rude at almost all the hours of the day. She never gave a good remark about anyone but not Josie. Josie complimented everyone. She came with a glowing recommendation and was well-liked by her previous lady— at least that’s what Father said. Like all his servants, she was highly recommended.

Across the carriage, Ser Willoughby read. His eyes left the page long enough to graze over Jocelyn’s amber braid and then her face, and then they caught me staring. He returned to the book.

“What should I expect on my wedding night?” I asked.

The question startled him out of his chapter. It startled Elías from his reverie, disrupting whatever peace he’d had.

Willoughby did not answer, and Eli went through possibly every emotion before settling on a hasty, “I beg your pardon, Princess?”

“My wedding night,” I said slower. “What sort of behavior is expected of me as a wife?”

Willoughby tried not to stir from his bench, but he gripped the corner of his page a little too tightly to go unnoticed, then flipped it.

“Why must you ask me that?” said Elías. “Wake Jocelyn. She will be happy to explain the–”

“I don’t want to.”

“A woman is more qualified to explain the?—”

“I don’t want a woman’s answer,” I said. “And I didn’t ask you. I asked Ser Willoughby.”

“I couldn’t say,” Willoughby replied. He didn’t look up. “I’ve never had a wife before.”

Elías donned a boastful glance.

I lowered my voice. “Miss Josie will say the same things I’ve heard before. Things maids are told to tell their ladies. I asked a man because I wanted a man’s response.”

Elías returned to the passing scenery.

“And Josie,” I went on. “First of all, I don’t know her, and second of all, she’s barely older than I am if she is, and anyway, she’s unwed. Do you think she is very qualified to answer such questions?”

“By your logic, no one in this carriage is qualified,” Willoughby quipped.

Elías grinned. I rolled my eyes.

“Quiet, cousin,” I said.

“Of course, Your Highness,” he said.

“Elías,” I waited. “Elías.”

“Yes?”

“Honestly. Will you not tell me?” I shifted. “God. We’ve been in this box for days . Someone must speak to me. I’m going mad.”

“I can see that,” Elías said.

“Ugh.” I reseated myself, rudely adjusting my skirt. “You know, the closer we get to Rothingham, the more frightened I become,” I said, fine-tuning my tone.

“Frightened?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. I sighed. “Here I’ve sat quietly upon my hands while the two of you have pissed in the wilderness, and?—”

“Language.”

“And, did I draw attention to it when I relieved myself, and you stood awkwardly to the side to keep me safe from bandits ? Alleged bandits. Can you not spare me some embarrassment? Please. I beg you.”

“Embarrassment?” Elías croaked. “You’ll forgive me. I do not follow where the worry connects between travel and your wedding night,” he said.

“I’m glad you asked!”

“I didn’t.”

“I worry I will appear na?ve to the Prince and that the impression will lead to the failure of meeting his expectations.”

“Expectations?”

“Yes. Expectations of a husbandly nature. Do you connect it now?”

One cleared his throat, and the other puffed crassly with his reply.

“Svana,” he groaned.

“Elías.”

“This conversation is inappropriate.”

“You’re the only person in this world I trust to ask. No offense, Ser Willoughby.”

“Absolutely no offense taken,” he said. “I prefer to be left out.”

Eli looked at his knight.

“Great!” I said excitedly, aware he had relented. “What does sex feel like?”

“No ,” Elías muttered. “That is something you must discover for yourself. On your wedding night . But…expectations? I can shed some light upon.”

I folded my arms. “Well. Whatever I can rustle out of you, I suppose.”

He made quite a few sounds before, “When a man-”

“Ew! Are you giving me the Birds and the Bees?” I asked.

We both moved on our seats, uncomfortable and avoiding each other’s eyes, until he said, “His Highness will expect you to respect him. And to be honest, I would think.”

“That’s fair enough. What else?”

“I don’t know. To decorate his house, er, his palace? If you decide to. Wives usually do that sort of thing. And naturally, you’ll manage social affairs, befriend the women of the court, extend invitations for lunch, tea, balls…”

“Mmhmm. And what of the sex?” I asked.

“Will he expect the sex?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Yes, he will expect it,” Elías said.

“I see. And-”

“You won’t trick me into telling you what the sensations are like,” he added.

“Sensations? More than one? How mysterious.”

“Svana.”

“Oh, Eli. Calm down. You’ll be happy to know I was only going to ask how-” I paused to consider my question. “How, um, how does it come about? Is this something that I must initiate?”

“ Sometimes. On your wedding night,” he stressed, “You will go to his bedchamber, and it just… It comes naturally. He will undress you, and you him, and…if he is a...” He struggled to find what he could be happy with, “...a gentleman, he will kiss you, make you feel safe, and hold you after.”

My toes curled at his explanation, though I wasn’t convinced. “I see. And, what if he does not like what I…what I look like undressed?”

It amused him. “That will not be a problem you will have. You will be a prize no man has ever seen or touched. His Highness will be in awe of that beauty. Of that gift.”

“You sound awful certain.”

“There’s an entire lore regarding your braid because I am certain. But if he is not satisfied, then you find me. And I will speak to him on your behalf.”

“You can’t injure the Prince for not thinking I’m pretty, you know that, right?” I asked.

He said, “I would only speak to him,” but he smirked.

“I appreciate the sentiment.”

“What else?” he asked

“I get another question?” He frowned. Quickly, I asked, “A-Am I required to stay in his bed. Like all night?”

“I suppose not, but he might ask you to. Or you might want to. If you get along.”

“Ha!” I shook my head. “No. There is no chance of that. I could think of a hundred things I’d rather do than lie next to someone else, especially naked. Heavens, even to sleep, that sounds rancid. What if the Prince snores?”

“Traditionally, Chalke wives have a separate room. One of her own. One she may retire to, as she desires.”

“Not just Chalke wives. My mother had one,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

I leaned back, happy for the fact, but formed a scowl. “What if I don’t like what he looks like naked?”

He crossed his arms. “Then I will pray for his future. A life with an unhappy wife, let alone an unhappy Eisson wife? Ah. Very grim indeed.”

“I hope he’s handsome,” I whispered.

He hummed. “Well. I do think we’ve covered everything pertinent then. Unless you’d like to hear Ser Willoughby’s point?”

“No thanks,” Willoughby said.

“I do have just one last question,” I said, sitting up.

“Alright?”

“Ahem. As you know, the staff talks sometimes and…I know it’s very silly to care, but is he as handsome as they say?”

Elías frowned. “That, I cannot advise.”

“You’ve met him.”

“Aye, but I subscribe to a different preference, Princess.”

“Well, then, wager a guess based upon my preference! Would I like him?” I asked.

“I’ve...yet to see a person upset by his appearance.”

I looked at Willoughby, whose single brow peaked in a way that confirmed Elías statement.

“ Fine,” I said. I drifted toward the rolling hillside.

“Handsome or not, you’ll do well to like the Prince, especially as a person. That’s how marriages work,” Elías said.

“You said marriages worked on respect,” I said.

“Aye.” He nodded. “But admiration and respect are not mutually exclusive thoughts. Liking your partner makes the hardships worth the pain.”

“Hardships? Boy, marriage sounds lovely. What, with all the pain.”

Elías shrugged. “Love is far more powerful than any pain, Princess.”

I tsked. “If you say so.”

Chalke was as confusing as it was liberating from the seven days it’d taken. I stood in the middle of Rothingham’s bazaar. Everything was bewildering and new. Oreian markets were less crowded, or the stalls were further apart or fewer in between, with banners half as bright around the square. Even the Chalke architecture was free and inviting, but in a way that made my chest feel tight.

Impulsively, I grabbed the nearest hint of fabric, hooking some poor soul. “I must be lost,” I said mindlessly. “Might you help me?”

The man was fiendishly well-dressed, with dark wavy hair that fluttered about as he drew his shoulder back from the intrusion. “Oi!” he cried.

Then I stumbled, and he did a double take, catching and righting my stance.

“Excuse me?” he said. “What?”

I looked around. “I…” But I could not help but flush at the sudden realization that he was simply the most incredibly beautiful person I had ever laid eyes upon. “I…Hello.”

We stared at each other. Stupidly, I combed a chunk of invisible hair behind my ear.

“You’re lost?” he asked.

“I, uh, yes. I’m looking at the trinkets I saw,” I said. “Do you know where they are?”

He knit his brows. “Trinkets?”

“Oh, well, of course, you couldn’t-wouldn’t, I… It was a larger table. With frogs and… I … No, I… Hold on. There are the frogs, but….Where’s the fruit man?”

“Fruit man?” he asked. He followed my eyes to the next table with hats and belts but no apples.

“He was right here,” I said.

“Sorry. Who are you looking for?”

“I’m not— I don’t know his name. He… I do know I’ve seen those frogs, though. So where is he?”

“Frogs?” the man said plainly. His confusion intensified.

“Yes. Frogs.” I pointed. “Look at them. Staring at me with their deceptively disarming eyes. They mock me.”

“The frogs?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “The frogs.”

He didn’t add a word. I pointed again. “Those frogs.”

“Oh!” he said, acknowledging them. “Frogs.”

“Yes… Frogs,” I said. “Ohhh.” Then I bobbed my head. “Froogs,” I said longer.

The man nodded, then frowned. He canted his head, then frowned further. His eyes went from my braid to my mouth.

“Frogs?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Sorry, my Os are probably very odd to hear for you.”

“Os?”

“The letter,” I said. “...The letter in frogs. Those frogs. Right there. That’s… I’m sorry. I–I suppose I’m speaking rather fast, aren’t I?” I paused to listen to the bustle around us, then tried to tame the roll of my vowels and pacing. “Anyway, yes, sir. Frogs.”

The man blinked ambiguously.

“I’m lost,” I explained.

He nodded. “Lost.”

“Yes,” I continued slower. “Lost. ….You see, I am certain that I’ve looped this market at least a second or even third time, my lord, and that is a problem, as I have yet to find the apples. Well, again. I found them before, but…No matter. I was supposed to meet someone, but…I mean, yes, I was perhaps originally intent upon avoiding his company, but then he allowed me some freedom to seek apples, and maybe only under the condition that I meet him back at the stall with frogs, but, and this will sound mad, but, I do think these frogs are different than the frogs that were near the Reds. I know, I know, crazy, but where is the fruit man?” I asked. “And no, it’s not as though I’m not trying to avoid him. I see the frogs.” I emphasized the neighboring vendor’s products. “I don’t see the apples.”

“You’re looking for apples?” he said.

I exhaled. “It doesn’t matter. Your Grannies couldn’t possibly be better than our Reds. I don’t know why I’m wasting my time, but honestly, when’s the next opportunity I’ll have to see?”

He rudely narrowed his eyes. “You singled me out to find you Grannies?” he asked. “What?”

“Yes. Grannie apples. The green ones, right? Do you not call them Grannies here?”

“App—Good God. You’re actually talking about apples?” he asked.

“Yes…” I said. There was a painful lull. I could not grasp why he struggled so dearly with my explanation. “I’m from Oreia,” I thought to say. “We’re known for our Reds. We don’t harvest many Grannies.”

“I think I gathered that,” he said.

“Good, well, good, I think. Though, you should know, I can’t speak much slower, my lord.”

“I’m confused,” he said.

“Yes, I know, but… Alright, fine. You point me to your apples.”

“Apples?” he asked.

“Yes. Apples,” I said. “Little round fruit with a stem, and–”

“I’m quite clear on what you’re asking for, thanks. I don’t need it explained!”

“Then why did I have to repeat myself?” I asked.

“I-You’re asking me about apples?” he checked. The man scoffed. “Apples?”

“Yes! Apples!” I cried. “I’m—Wait... Have I seen this stall?” I stopped. “Are these different frogs? Did that one always have a cane?”

“I beg your absolute pardon?” he asked. “A cane? What cane?”

“The frog cane!” I whined. “That one. Right there!”

“What does his cane have to do with apples?” he asked.

“Nothing!”

“Then why, out of everyone in the plaza, did you choose me?”

I scoffed, then shelved the same hand at the bag to his side. “Oh, no reason, I suppose, just that you’re literally holding a bushel of Grannies. Oh wait, maybe that’s why I asked.”

“These?” he said, showing them.

“I don’t see another bag, sir.”

“What about them, yeah?” he asked.

“Oh my—” I steeled myself to maintain my poise, though obnoxiously broke it down as basically as I could. “Sir. Where. Did you. Find. Your apples?” I asked firmly. “I am lost. I am looking for the apple man. The man that sells apples. I assumed you would know, as he is likely the same man you bought your apples from. I’m very late. If you don’t know, say that, but I must find my knight now. So if you’ve seen him–”

“Sorry, knight? Then you are the Princess?” he asked.

“I–” I touched my hair, looked at my gown with the giant horse on it, and realized I’d said knight. “I–” I stopped. “...Are you going to rob me if I say yes?”

“Rob you?” he spat.

“Ohhh, you’re… You’re a bit struck then?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m a bit stuck,” he said.

“Oi, I feel so silly. Relieved, but silly. Yes. Yes, sir. I am the Princess,” I replied. “I’m sorry. How disruptive all this must have been for you without a proper introduction.” I curtsied for him. “Princess Svana Eisson, my lord. Though, I must applaud you for your astute observation skills. Did you first gather my identity by the accent, the clothes, or the knight?”

“Is your knight is here?” he asked.

I motioned toward the crowd. “You tell me. He’s in there , somewhere, I presume. Anyhow, might you tell me then? Since I am the Princess?”

“Tell you what?” he asked.

“The apples, my lord! What else?”

“I don’t know!” he said. “A minute ago, it was frogs.”

“Well. At the very least, tell me in which direction I should go!” I demanded. “Gah, this is fruitless.” I nudged him with my elbow. “Get it?” After another silence, I said, “Because apples are a fruit, sir.”

“I’m aware.” He inspected me. “You are quite tall,” he commented.

“I’m tall?” I asked. “Compared to what? A child? Or something else? ‘Cause you’re far taller, I’m afraid,” I said. “You easily tower over many of these men. Maybe even some trees.” I checked those around us to be sure and then found my eyes following his brutish frame as I connected the thought. “Yes, very tall indeed,” I said. I swallowed.

“I tower?” he said. “That’s what you’ll say to me?”

“Yes,” I said. “Because you do.” I paused, replaying his response. “Are you… Never mind.”

“Never mind? Am I what?” he checked. “Go on, ask me. I want you to ask me.”

I shook my head politely and moved to browse the other table. “Hi, do you know where I can find apples here?” I asked the seller.

“Ask me, Princess,” he pressed.

“I don’t think I should,” I said.

“And why not?” he asked.

“You’re being quite unruly, my lord,” I said. I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to ask you.”

“What don’t you want to ask?” he said. “Something mean?”

“Not originally, but now I think I’ll ask if you’re daft or stupid.”

“Daft? Well, if I’m daft, you’re pretty.” He came to a halt, horror spitting across his face, then he quickly added, “I meant petty.”

“Petty?” I declared. “What nerve has possessed you to say that? I have offended you somehow?”

The merchant turned from the person he’d been helping. “Apples?” he asked. “Your husband’s got a whole bag. You need more than that?”

“My husband?” I asked. I looked to my side and found the bushel in the lord’s hand. “Do you mean him?”

“Is she dumb?” the seller asked the lord. “What a waste.”

I made a noise. “Dumb? Dumb, he asks! And what do you mean, waste?”

“It’s not so pleasant, is it? To be called names?” the lord asked me.

“I’m not the one who assumed you were my husband . No! How dare he ask if I am dumb!”

“You’ve got your hands full, huh?” the merchant said.

“I’ll show you hands full, sir!” I begged.

The lord sighed. “It’s your braid,” he explained. He flicked his hand at it.

“My braid?” I asked.

He came closer, eyeing all my features all at once. I leaned away from him.

“What’s happening? Stop it.”

In the most condescending tone, he said, “In Chalke, married women wear their hair in braids in demonstration of their union. You follow?”

The merchant returned to peddling his fares to someone who inquired about the material his bowls were carved from.

“But I’m Oreian,” I replied.

“Aye, and I’m sure the absolute stranger you’ve just met knows that,” he muttered.

“I–” I stopped. “Well, in Oreia, the braid is…” I listened to his words, then reexamined his attire. His shirt was loud, but he wore it well. There were no sigils or names, but there was something about how he spoke. “Fine. I’ll ask. Are you or are you Oreian, sir?” I asked.

“I am,” he said.

“I see. Is that good or bad for me?” I asked.

“I’m deciding,” he said.

I went on. “Well. Well, I suppose the bit about the hair is good information to have despite the manner in which you’ve delivered it, my lord. So, I thank you for educating me. I’ve been here an hour and already I’ve cast the entirely wrong impression. Hooray.”

“Indeed,” he said. “Good day, Your–”

“Such an odd thing to divert ideology on, though. Don’t you agree? I mean, our braids are worn to display an intact virgini- uh.” He quirked a brow as I came to an awkward pause. “An intact, um.”

“An intact virtue?” he provided.

“Yes,” I nodded. “Thank you, sir. Not… Not a union, as that would legally be consummated by…” I stopped. “I’m sorry, could you say virtue again?”

He didn’t.

“It’s just that… Fine, I’ll confess. I’m having trouble locating your region, sir. Where did you say your seat was?”

“I didn’t,” he replied.

I frowned. “Are you going to?” I asked.

His brows danced. “No.”

“And why not?” I asked.

“The apples are near the gate,” he said. “You’re in the back of the plaza. Go that way.”

“May I ask your name?” I asked. He spun me toward the front. “I’m sure I know your family,” I said, turning back.

He sunk his head.

“Is there a reason you’re so insolent?” I replied.

“Yes. Now leave me alone, Your Highness,” he said.

“In a moment. Surely your father is somebody I’ve met?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Then I must apologize; I meet so many aristocrats in the year. I-”

His attention went over my shoulder, undoubtedly to the armor I heard approach us.

“Oh! Finally!” I cheered. “I told you he was in there. How happy. We’ve been found!”

“I’m–” He cleared his throat and offered me the laziest of bows. “I’m afraid I must go,” he said quickly.

“What?” I laughed. “Why? Are you in a hurry?”

“Dreadful,” he said, shuffling a few steps.

“Wait. Your name, sir?” I asked. “To thank your father?”

He shook his head. “My father’s dead.”

“Oh.”

“Good day, Your Highness.”

“Wait!”

He loosed a breath.

“If you’re here for long, I would love to see you again– I mean, we could discuss Orerian things? Or Chalke things that I should be aware of? Like my braid? Yes?”

“Your braid?” he asked.

His shirt’s pattern flexed with his impending exit. My cheeks warmed as it reappointed my attention to his chest.

“I–It’s just–” I took a sharper breath. He was so fit. “It’s just that it would really help me to have a companion here, I mean, an advisor, I suppose, and-” I waited for an answer. “And you seem… very knowledgable.”

He said, “I have to go. Good day, Your Highn-” but a clatter of scraping clings manifested beside us, severing the farewell in half.

My knight broke through the last defense of townsfolk between us. He was out of breath, yet happy. Still smiling.

“Your Highness,” he said. “I almost lost you there.”

“Ser Willoughby,” I said. I served my palm to introduce the other. “This is Lord–”

After quite the pause, the man said, “Evergreen,” hastily. “My name is Evergreen.”

“Evergreen,” I said. The name was terribly fitting and made me giggle to recall his comment on my height. “Like the pine.”

Willoughby offered a polite nod. “Ser Willoughby, at your service, sir.” Neither man cared much for the other. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

“Of course not. And thanks to my new fri–”

“I must leave,” Lord Evergreen said.

“Oh,” I nodded. “Yes. Of course. It was–”

“Yes,” he said. He bowed, and then he departed before I could even finish my sentence. In fact, Lord Evergreen vanished into the crowd so quickly that I wasn’t sure in which direction he had dissipated. “He’s in a hurry,” I explained to Ser Willoughby.

He watched the crowd a second longer. “Do you have your coin?”

“My coin?” I patted my purse. “Yes, why?”

“Just a question.”

“You think Lord Evergreen was a thief?” I asked. “That man?”

“Yes,” he said.

“No. No, he dresses far too clamorously to be missed. What a poor thief he would make. No, based upon his absolute desire to withhold his name and house, I think the problem is that he hates my father.”

“I see. Then he is a fool, Your Highness,” he replied.

“Is he, though?” I asked. “I don’t know; I thought he was sort of… charming.”

Willoughby’s face soured. “That guy? ...Respectfully, no,” he said.

“No? You– Oh! No! Good lord, Ser Willoughby! No! No, I meant, like, as a person!” I still blushed. “Charming as a lord. A friendly sort of lord. Honestly, Ser. Lords can be and should be charming to be lords. Do you not– Ugh. Don’t humiliate yourself by accusing me of such….”

“My mistake, Your Highness. We should head back,” he said.

“Yes. Immediately. Please!”

By the time Ser Willoughby and I had found our way back to the carriage, Elías was tapping his foot impatiently next to my very concerned maid.

“Ten minutes,” he uttered. “That was the deal. I nearly came after you.”

“Relax, we’re on time,” I said.

“Jocelyn?” Elías commanded.

She wrung her hands. “...Miss Svana, we were late before. With this, we are set to be over an hour into the midday, which will no doubt interrupt the social structure of the Palace.” She displayed a letter from her pocket. “I’m afraid it won’t go unnoticed.”

“What are you saying?” I asked.

She looked to the Lord Commander for reassurance, then said, “We’re horrifically late.”

Elías went on. “And during the quorum, no less. Badly done.”

“But,” I started.

“Not buts,” he argued. “You don’t even have the apples you were so adamant about getting. What is that? Is that a frog?”

I hid it behind my back. “So I’m a little late. I apologize.”

“Save your remorse for the King. I know I told you he is not easy to impress. This is not good.”

“...We did try to find the apples.” I jabbed Willoughby insistently. “Tell him.”

“We tried,” he said.

I raised my chin with weak redemption. “See?”

“We settled for a frog,” he added. “Because it looked like you.”

“What?” Eli asked.

“He’s got a little sword,” I said, showing him.

Elías glanced at it. Then stepped back and opened the door of the carriage. “Your Father was very clear in his instructions; let us cauterize the wound before it spreads to him.”

“Yes, yes. I’m hurrying,” I said, climbing the step and sitting on the bench. “I am sorry. I wasn’t trying to be disruptive. ”

His face softened. “I know that, but others won’t. We are in new territory, Princess. This is not the impression we want.” He joined us inside and shut the door, tapping the roof of the cart above the window. “I shall do my best to help you recover.”

I played with the frog, showing it to him a second time. “I named him Gregor after you.”

He exhaled. “Lovely. Thank you.”

“Do you want him?” I asked, setting him in his palm.

“You don’t have to gift me your frog as an apology,” he said.

“It’s not an apology, Ser,” I said. “I only got him because he looked like you.”

Finally, he leaned into the seat and relaxed. “In what way?” he asked, inspecting it.

“Well,” I said. “He’s got the sword… and he’s frowning.”

“I see.”

“It’s very cute,” I tried.