Page 7 of The Ostler's Boy

J osie finished stowing my clothes in the armoire. I shifted in my seat at a vanity as she slowed her folding.

“Can I confide in you a moment?” I asked Miss Josie.

She hesitated a moment, hovering by the chest. Then looked up. “In me, Your Highness?” she asked.

“There’s no one else in the room,” I said.

She checked anyway. “Oh.”

“He doesn’t like horses,” I told her.

Josie’s eyes traveled to the side. I realized she was confused.

“The Prince,” I said.

“Oh.”

“Do you not think that’s strange?” I asked. She made a circle with her lips but said nothing. “Do speak, would you? It’s all I can think about.”

“I suppose…” Josie’s voice trailed. “I suppose it is strange if you feel it is strange, Your Highness,” she replied.

“I’m a horse,” I told her. She glanced at me. “Symbolically,” I added.

“I see.” She bobbed her head. “Then you are worried of the correlation to his preferences?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “Yes? I don’t know. What do you think I should think?”

She moved toward the bed and unlatched one of the trunks to retrieve a pair of my shoes. Then she went and put them at the foot of the wardrobe along the back.

“Do you think I should be concerned?” I asked her. “He’s so handsome; I knew there had to be something wrong with him.”

Josie repeated her task.

“Will you please give me an answer here?” I asked.

She stopped. “Do you call upon my honesty, miss, or my generosity?” she asked.

I frowned. “Why are they different?”

She shrugged. “I do not seek to offend you.”

“You’re not going to offend me; I asked for your opinion,” I said.

She nodded. “Yes, you did.”

“Then give it,” I said back. “Tell me. Is it strange that the man I am to marry does not like horses?”

“It’s a little strange that you care so deeply,” she replied.

I gasped. She cringed.

“You did ask!” she said.

“I don’t think I’m wrong,” I declared. “I think it’s very strange! Who doesn’t like horses?”

“Many people, Your Highness,” she said.

“I don’t know of any,” I said.

“I think the better question is not if it is strange, but rather, if it is strange for you?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I said that.”

“I’m sure His Highness has many facts that outshine this one flaw,” she said. “The Prince is quite handsome, as you stated.”

“Yes, he is,” I told her. “But–”

“Perhaps we should consider what other qualities His Highness has?” she said.

“Other qualities?”

“Yes,” she said. “What else do you like about him?”

“I barely know him,” I said.

“Only well enough to dismiss him,” she breathed.

“I beg your pardon?” I asked.

Her brows raised, and she said nothing to confirm what I’d heard.

I said, anyway, “I’m not dismissing him.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’m not, and it’s certainly not as though I could,” I said.

“I must apologize, Miss Svana. I did not mean to prompt you with such thoughts.”

I loosed a sigh, checking my reflection. “It’s not as though my marriage is a deal that can be broken, not over horses or anything else.”

“I–”

“It feels very strange, Miss Jocelyn. I mean, the man does not like horses! I love horses! Love them!”

“Many spouses have differences,” she said.

“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “I’ve never had one.”

“My parents were opposites,” she said. “They did fine for themselves.”

“Fine is not a good word,” I muttered.

After a moment, she started unpacking my things again. “I think if the worst thing about His Highness is that he doesn’t like horses, you’ve won quite the luck in the matter.”

“Easy for you to say, you don’t have to marry him,” I argued.

“He could be a violent sort of man,” she said.

“That is true,” I agreed. “I suppose it could have been worse.”

“Aye,” she nodded. “Or. Your husband could have been an ogre,” she replied.

“An ogre?” I asked.

“Ugly,” she said.

“You’re right. He could have been ugly,” I said. “And I was prepared to marry him as such.”

“Very noble of you, my lady.”

“It’s just.” I sat back against the seat. “ Am I so less concerned about the way he looks and–”

“What of this ball, I hear? Are you not excited?” she asked. “Perhaps you could get to know him there?”

I glanced at her. “It does sound fun.”

“Such lovely pastels you own,” she said. “Will the gown you order be the same?”

I watched her mosey about. “You changed the subject,” I said.

“Did I?” she asked.

“You did.”

“My mistake,” she said. “Perhaps we might see swatches tomorrow?”

I stared at her.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You must tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t have any thoughts, my lady,” she said.

“The Prince hates horses. I’m a horse. I feel strange about this fact,” I said. “There. You’re caught up again.”

“Ah, yes.”

“So?” I pressed. “Deliver your thoughts.”

“I do not wish to displease you,” she said. She moved some of the hangers in the closet. “What about tomorrow? Should you wear the blue or the pink? I shall organize your week somehow.”

“Jocelyn,” I said.

“Unless you’d prefer to pick when you rise? Some ladies seize the day like that,” she said.

“Jocelyn, please,” I said again.

She shook her head. “No, you like your plans, I’m told.”

“By whom? My father?”

She peered over her shoulder for but a moment.

“Please?” I asked. “Please?”

Josie fooled with the hook near her hand.

“I’m not asking to… to trick you…” I explained. “That’s what you must think.”

“I would never,” she replied, but her voice was quiet and far.

“It is,” I said. “You think I’m asking you these things to… to I don’t know, but you think there is a punishment if you wound my vanity?”

She didn’t answer it, and she didn’t look at me. She said, “Shall I brush your hair?”

“Did your mistress trick you?” I asked.

She was quieter. “I have no words to say against any lady, Miss Svana.”

“I-” I took a deep breath, if not to steel myself from the obvious avoidance in her reply. Miss Josie had been tricked. I knew she had. I heard my own trepidation in her tone. “I’m lonely,” I confessed. “Not conniving.”

Miss Jocelyn turned around. “Come again?”

I spoke a little louder, though I was equally exposed in my exhibition. “I’m lonely,” I said.

There was an unsettling still. I felt sick, scrambling to configure the notion.

“I’m lonely,” I said once more. “I am asking your opinion on something that bothers me because… because I don’t know who else to ask. I know you are new to our staff; I know there are rumors of my demeanor, but I’m not cruel; I’m…I’m alone.”

“Miss…”

“My last maid, she was thrice my age. I’m sure she had very little pleasant to say as she went, but not because I was mean to her, but because we barely spoke, ever, and when we did, she never laughed at my jokes. I don’t even know if she knew they were jokes or thought that I was funny. I hardly remember a thing about her because she never told me anything. I only remember the insults she assigned to others behind their backs. And my governess… And my mother, well, she’s gone. You’ve heard those rumors, too. Well, they’re all true, or maybe they’re not, but I don’t know. I also have no sisters, no brothers, and no cousins that aren’t in áire, well….Aside from Ser Willoughby, but I’ve barely known him, so I beg, who else do I have to ask? Elías?” I shook my head. “The Lord Commander? Oh yes. That should go exceptionally well, confessing my nerves in marrying a man that God, duty, and His Majesty demand I must. I don’t want to disappoint him.”

Her mouth parted, but no response arrived.

“Please?” I begged. “Please? I promise you, I vow it. I will not report you to my father or punish you for completing a task I’ve assigned. I’m just… I don’t have any companions,” I said. My voice was uneven. “Well, again, yes, I have Ser Elías, but he’s not someone I can talk to about ogres and the like. He’d reprimand me for my manners for such words. He’d say, Svana, ugly for ugly. And then I’d be the unfavored one because it’s what’s on the inside that counts, he’d say.”

Finally, Jocelyn said, “I once knew a man who put his fist through the wall nearly every time his wife received a compliment from one of his friends. When he didn’t break the wall, he kicked her dog instead.”

“That’s horrible,” I said.

“Yes,” she agreed. “If the Prince doesn’t like horses, I think that's pretty fine.”

“You’re right,” I told her. “I’m ashamed, and I thank you for scolding me.”

“I did not–”

“I’m just so dizzy from all this excitement,” I explained. “I value your honesty in the matter.”

Josie nodded once. “Um. …If you want my opinion on your gown, I do believe that blush is your color,” she said. She rearranged a few of the dresses, creating the order she’d promised, though the fabrics bled into more of a rainbow than anything.

“Can I say something else stupid?” I asked. “It comes with the lien that you shall be sworn to secrecy and cannot convey it to anyone else for as long as you should live.”

“I would never share your secrets.”

“Never?” I asked.

“It goes against my code of conduct,” she explained. “If I violate that, I don’t get paid. I need paid.”

“It’s just…” I played with my thumb. “I’m a little disappointed.”

“In the horses, miss?” she asked.

“In the horses, yes.” My voice cracked. “Back home, whenever Eli is on one of his patrols or traveling with Father, no one speaks to me. I mean, they do if they need something done, or if they’re looking for the King, or they’re instructing me on something, or they’re otherwise contractually interested in my welfare, but…I know I sound silly saying this, and yes, I do feel silly, thank you, but I talk…I talk to my father’s horses a lot.”

“Oh, I see,” she said.

“Like every day.”

“Many people speak to animals,” she said.

“Yes, and I know it’s kind of a sad spinster thing to do, but I suppose I’ve always seen our steeds as a pillar of day-to-day life. And perhaps I expected that my husband would love the creatures the same as I did. Or that he would have grown up in a way that isolated him to their company the same as…I…Alright, maybe I haven’t ever seen eyes so perfectly hazel before. That should count for something. Shouldn’t it?” My cheeks were undoubtedly red.

“Aye, miss,” Josie said. “Prince Sameer has very handsome eyes.” She came and loosened my braid, lifting and lowering my curls into a variety of fantasy updos. “I think I could overlook most things for someone so very fair.”

“You must think I am the vainest lady to ever live,” I said.

“Not a possibility; I’ve met that woman,” she said.

I caught her in the mirror. “Was that a joke?”

She only smirked.

My nerves soothed with the realization. Josie tried a couple more styles before letting go.

“It was funny,” I added. “...Do you think I need to wear my hair down while I am here?” I asked.

“No,” Elías barked, suddenly a part of the conversation.

I twisted to see him. He was stationed near the door, arms crossed.

“How long have you been standing there?” I asked.

“The braid stays,” he said.

“The women here only wear braids when they’re married, Elías,” I explained. “It’s been nothing but a dispute. The King said-”

“You are not a woman from here,” he replied. “Dispute solved.”

“I–”

“You’re Oreian, and your stay here is temporary,” he replied.

“The Prince asked me to stay until the end of summer,” I reminded him. “I think I intend to do that,” I said.

“Is your father aware of your plans?” he asked.

Josie took a step to the side. “I should go find–”

“You’ll stay right there,” I told her. “Tell him. Tell him I should stay.”

Josie didn’t.

“You’re supposed to stop in áire,” Eli said. “Did you forget?”

“Please, Elías?” I asked. “Those girls don’t care about me. They’re knee-deep in exams and such. I’m just another interruption in their studies.”

“Your father will not allow it,” he said.

“He will if you tell him to.” I gave him a look.

Elías scowled.

“You know I am correct. Please?” I asked. “Please? Pretty please?”

“Give me a reason you should stay,” he said. “Just one. Make it good.”

“I–” I looked at Jocelyn. Then I looked at my reflection, then at him again. “I want to educate myself further on the people and culture of the Chalke Empire so that I may better serve them as Queen when my father resigns.”

“Hmph,” he said.

“That was an excellent answer, and you know it!” I cried, whipping around.

“Fine,” he said.

“It was not fine! You and my father are always– Wait. Did you say it was fine? Or fine?” I asked.

Josie and I met eyes. She subtly nodded.

“You said fine?” I realized. “I heard it! I did. You did say it! Josie heard it!” I declared. “She is my witness!’

“I did say fine,” he said. “Your answer was good. I will convince him you should stay.”

“Oh, thank–”

“On one condition,” he said.

“Of course there is,” I muttered.

“The braid stays.”

“Elías!”

“The braid stays,” he stressed. “It would be too strange for me to see you without it, at least before your vows.”

“Strange?” I asked, half-checking to see if he’d chosen the word on purpose. He didn’t react. “Yes. But I–”

“And,” he cut me off. “You must remember that you are an Oreian woman. Nay, an Oreian Queen. Just as you intend to know their empire, Chalke must know you and our lands. What better symbol than the braid?”

“I suppose,” I said defeatedly. “Can I at least wear it in different twists?”

“Why? The crown suits you well.”

“I don’t know?” I argued. “To show that I am open to change? To their styles, you know, without sacrificing my heritage or whatever?”

He exhaled.

Josie aided me. “...The ladies in North áire wear their braids over their shoulders?”

I sighed happily. “Thank you,” I said, grinning. “Is that not a fair compromise?” I asked Elías. “Surely you cannot deny a style from my mother’s home? Can you? The Róses are my heritage, too.”

He agreed, though curtly. I sat again excitedly, and Josie fastened the new twine. It felt trendy and light but uncomfortable. As I stood up, Elías looked away.

“...Are you upset with me?” I asked. I touched my braid. “Look, I know today did not go exactly perfect-”

“You look like her, is all,” he said.

“Oh.”

“I’m not upset with you.”

“But you are upset?” I asked. I searched his face. “You are, aren’t you? To whom is your anger directed? Sameer?”

“Sameer,” he scoffed. “You’ve known him hours, and you’re already calling him by his given name.”

“I call Josie by hers,” I said. “And you by yours?”

“You call me Elías,” he said.

“Fine, Gregory,” I said. “Would you prefer that from henceforth?”

“I just think it’s rather intimate for such a new connection,” he said. “You barely know the man.”

“Yes, but I’m going to marry him,” I said. “What’s more intimate than marriage, Ser?”

“Miss,” Josie said. “I need to see to your other bags.”

“Yes, of course.” I waved her off. She left. After a long pause, I tried again. “Eli,” I said. “You are my dearest friend.”

“You humble me,” he replied, his Oreian response.

“Should I not be excited about my future here? Would you prefer that I went back to being miserably worried about his hobbies?” I asked.

“Of course not,” he said.

“You are the one who’s always told me duty above all else.”

“Yes. Duty,” he said. “And honor and virtue.”

“Ah, I gather it now,” I said. “You’re not upset with the Prince at all. You’re concerned for my virtue. Again, I’m to marry the man. I–”

“I heard what Sameer said to you, Your Highness. I may be an old man–”

“Hardly,” I said.

“But I am not a stupid one,” he said. “And I’m certainly not deaf.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” I asked. “No one accused you of being deaf.”

“The hint about his red door.”

“The hint?” I racked my brain. “Oh! You think–”

“Yes. I worry he will-”

“Elías, I am not going to lose my virginity, so very close to my vows. What would be the point?” I asked. “And do you think I could, even if I wanted to? All I would hear would be your voice in my ear, rattling on about how badly I was behaving. And no offense, but I am convinced that any thought of you while participating in that sort of act would ruin the experience for me in every way.”

His face said something else.

“Is that truly your deepest fear?” I sat on the bed, crossing my ankles and patting the place next to me. He didn’t sit. “That I’ll be ruined?” I asked. “Well, what of it? What if I slept with him a couple of months before we were forced into holy matrimony anyway? It’s not as though he can choose not to marry me. He’ll bring a rain of warfare back down upon his citizens with just the thought of discarding the Treaty. You forget its words are only as good as the Prince’s commitment to them. My father would destroy all of Chalke at his misstep. Some days I do believe he wishes it would occur.”

“Commitment goes both ways in a marriage,” Eli explained.

“Not when it’s legally preventing a war,” I said.

“You’re wrong. It’s always important, even then,” Elías said. He groaned and sat beside me, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “You can wear your mask for everyone else, but not with me.”

“What mask?” I asked.

“You pretend like it’s no big deal, but I know who you are. I see you stare, and I see you consider, and I want you to know, it will mean more if you wait. Get to know the Prince before you give yourself to him. Ask him questions; play games. Form a friendship. Don’t find yourself in front of his red door .”

“Stop saying it like that,” I begged.

“I promise, it will make your wedding night worlds beyond anything infatuation could invent if you can just be patient.”

“You old dog,” I said defensively. “I can’t decide if you are just perverse or if you expect me to fall in love with the man.”

“You are already quite taken with him,” he said.

“He’s attractive.” I laughed. “And funny. People like him; it’s clear. But charisma is magnetic, isn’t it? You know me better than that.” I fiddled with a detail on his armor. “Besides. Love is not an option for me, Ser. I already found and lost my soulmate.”

Elías sighed. “You were a child,” he said. “You both were.”

“Not according to some,” I argued.

“Svana.”

“Besides. I read a book once where the narrator suggested that the deepest of commitments, be that of romantic pursuits or parental acknowledgment, transcended all things– things like time and distance and existence. Why would age matter if that were true?” I asked.

“Just don’t deny the option for yourself. Love could exist again for you,” he said. “You could love the Prince, and he could love you, and that would be fine if you did. I would prefer that you did.”

“It is my duty to marry the Prince,” I told him. “Not to love him. Duty is not love.”

“Duty is the love of one’s people,” he said.

“Fine,” I replied. “Duty is love of empire, but it is the Empire first, and then nothing else.”

“You could find footing in both,” he explained. “Love and duty.”

“I really could not,” I replied.

“Svana.”

“Elías.”

He spoke quietly. “It was a different time. You were just a child.”

“I was never just a child, Ser. If any lesson was learned that day, that was it. I’ve only ever been the Princess destined to be the Queen.” I didn’t let him respond, asking, “Is there something else? You seem troubled beyond thoughts of virtue. Was my performance at the quorum so bad?”

Elías gave me a tight, dismissive nod. “There’s nothing, Princess.”