Page 8 of The Ostler's Boy

Five Years Ago

T he King stood just beyond my bedroom door. He loosed a heavy sigh, only speaking to order Ser Elías.

“She won’t eat. She won’t sleep. She won’t speak,” he said.

The Lord Commander shifted, filling the hallway with his armor’s noise.

“All over a stable buck,” Father spat.

“The boy was her friend,” Elías said in my defense.

“She’ll make more.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “Still, it would go a long way if you would say something to her.”

“Say what?” the King asked.

“...Apologize, Your Majesty.”

“An apology, Elías?” he checked. “What would I apologize for? For saving her virtue or preserving her reputation?”

“For hurting her friend,” Eli returned.

“Please.” I heard my father’s tongue click. “Miss Hellveig is the best governess this empire has seen. I hired her to provide Svana with the tools necessary to reign when I fall, which, in case you haven’t noticed, might be sooner than we wish, or have you forgotten we are at war?”

“How could I forget?” Elías asked. “Do I not bend to your every will? Did I not just deploy another hundred men for you?”

“I have a strategy to plan, Ser. Take care of this, will you?”

“What can I do? Your daughter needs you,” he said.

“I have battles to win—soldiers to pay. Widows to thank. All of that takes precedence over silly feelings and empty apologies. Does that make sense to you?”

“Nikolai,” Elías urged.

“Handle it.”

“Handle it,” he echoed. “While you ignore her? A lot of good ignoring silly feelings has done for us in the past.”

“How dare you,” Father said.

“Am I wrong?” the other asked. “What would Eliza say?”

“Don’t act as though you knew better than I did,” he said. “And do watch your tongue. I will not give you another chance. Tell Svana to eat. Find a way to make her; I don’t care. Regardless of her feelings for the boy, she is the heir to this Crown, and there will be no other. If she gets worse, I will take it out on you. If she dies, I will ruin you. That, I absolutely promise. Are we clear?”

“As you see fit, my King,” Elías said.

“And if you ever invoke my wife’s name against me again–”

“I understand.”

With that, Father was off onto whatever bed he would find himself in that night. I drifted deeper into the sheets of mine, into the mood of the castle after dark, and I tried not to think of the whispers within its halls or of Hellveig’s happy face.

A forceful knock rapped off my chamber door, followed by Elías’s voice.

“Your Highness?” he tried, different than he usually was, out commanding the Guard. “Permission to enter?” he asked.

I didn’t answer, so he waited, like a faithful mutt, and maybe because he was not the one I was angry with, I uttered the first real word I’d spoken in a week.

“Granted.”

With that, the Lord Commander stepped in and appeared at my side. I was strung stomach-down, across the mattress, staring rather derangedly into the wall. My fingers shook as they traced the tiny lines of rock in front of them. He knelt and sighed.

“Princess. You cannot do this,” he said.

“Cannot? It seems I can,” I said. “It’s actually rather easy.”

“You must eat,” he said.

“Must. Can’t. In truth, I can do what I want. You do not order me, Knight,” I said, distancing him like my father had.

“You will wither away if you continue to starve yourself,” he said.

“I eat.”

“Barely.”

“So what?” I asked.

“It’s not a quick death,” he said.

“I don’t care.”

“You might if you’d seen the truth behind it. As far as suffering goes, there’s not much worse.”

“I don’t care,” I repeated.

“I think you do,” he said.

“I think–” I struggled to sit up. “I think you aren’t paid to think.”

He didn’t react much to my irritation. He said, “His Majesty bears remorse for–”

“I have ears, you’re aware?” I asked. “I may be a child in your eyes, but I am anything but stupid . My father is not sorry for anything; how dare you lie to me! How dare you think I’d believe you. His Majesty thinks-” I steadied myself against one of the bedposts, ignoring the pinch in my gut. “He thinks…” I couldn’t find the words. I couldn’t find any words. My brain was clouded.

Elías said, “The ostler and his son are gone. His Majesty has sent them away,” and he sat down on the floor. “You don’t have to be worried to cross their path.”

Gone. Gone, I thought. Worse than the hunger.

He went on. “The doctor says the boy will recover fine if you wish to know.”

“Recover fine?” I whined. “From being held down and branded? Like a horse? Like he was property?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“And for what?” I begged. “For my request. How will he recover fine, Ser? How will I?”

“You are young, fortunately,” he replied. “You’ll find that pain fades with age.”

“Is that the lie I should believe or the one you tell yourself?” I asked.

He laughed. “As sharp as your mother.”

“My mother is dead. I never knew her, and your comparison is useless to me. If you have nothing else-”

“She loved you,” he said. “You don’t have to hear it if you don’t wish to, but I will say it all the same. Eliza loved you, and she would love how brave you are.”

I sighed. “I’m not brave at all,” I said.

“Your house; Eisson, it means iron. Two hundred years of faithful, unrusted reign in this very castle, the very throne your father holds now. You are led by the sword, by war. You are brave. It’s in your blood. You are stronger than you think in this moment, and you will survive it despite your best efforts to escape it. It isn’t in you to give up.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” I asked. “I’m to be miserably strong forever?”

He took an uneven breath. “With your mother gone, I fear time was never taken to explain what it means to be her kin... To be a Rós. She very much would’ve liked to have told you such things.”

“Then she should’ve,” I said.

Elías’s jaw tensed as he explained. “Your mother would’ve said that the Royal are chosen by God Himself. For many things, all great. Great opportunity, great destiny , great pain. But to be a Rós, that is something far more powerful.”

“More powerful than God?” I croaked. “No wonder she was mad.”

“She’d say, while a countess’s or any other lady’s life is important, a princess’s future is necessary for the progression of her empire. She’d say that because of that, the Róses were always destined to weave their way into the Crown, come Hell or high water.”

“What are you even on about?” I asked.

“I’m saying that, by fate, one day you will be Queen, Svana. It is why you were born; it’s your purpose. And it will not be easy. No, but there will be joy. And like your mother, you will sire an heir for your King and for your country, and they will be of noble blood, and he or she will rule when you pass on.”

“Ah, noble blood,” I said. “Of course.”

“Days like the other will come and go; boys will come and go, but you must be faithful to the life God has chosen for you, Princess. You must.”

“What would my mother say if I refused her plan for me?” I asked.

“She would say it’s not up to you. She’d tell you fate is not a choice; fate is always in motion. Acceptance of it only makes your trials easier to bear.”

“She escaped,” I said.

“Svana.”

“I loved him, Elías,” I whispered. “I loved him more than anything. Than anything! Do you understand? More than the Castle, or the Crown, or Father, or–”

“Love is a powerful word,” he said.

“What other word is there that fits inside this massive hole?” I asked. “I wake up every morning with Willem in my mind. I sneak out every day to see his face, to listen to him moan about nonsense and ideology I do not understand. He’s not like the other boys I’ve met. He does not want my gold, or the Crown, or a title for himself. He does not brag about who his father is or whom he knows. He may not be an earl’s son, but he is brave. And he is kind, and he is honest, and now he’s gone, all because he wanted to be a knight, and I– I promised him that life. I did, no one else. Does that mean anything?”

“Aye, but-”

“I loved him,” I cried.

“...Then I am sorry.”

“Your sorry does not take away his screams,” I said. I sank my head into my hands. “I still hear them, you know? And now I must suffer for my sins.”

“Svana, you are meant to rule, not fall in love. And I know it isn’t fair, but you cannot allow yourself to become tangled in ostler boys.”

“The ostler boy had a name!” I snapped. “Will you not say it?”

He paused. “Willem,” he said. “Your Willem will be fine. He will recover, and he and his father will find work somewhere else, and you, Princess Svana Eisson, first of her name, will remember that you are born of iron,” he said. He stood and held out his hand for mine. “You will arise from this fire a tempered blade. Heed your mother’s advice. Put duty before all else, even love, and accept your fate. Everything else will fall into place as it must.”

“...I don’t know how,” I confessed. “The days are so much darker now. I’m not sure I see a way out of it all.”

“I will help you,” he said. “I’ll be your guide.”

“I’m scared,” I said.

“The only time a Blade can be brave is when he is scared,” he said. “I will show you courage. I will remind you that you are more your mother than your father when you need to hear it, and I will show you the way.”

“I just…”

“But you must eat for me in exchange,” he said.

My fortress broke, bringing its fall with a slight sound. “It’s the smell,” I told him. “The burning meat.”

Friday came, and with it, the unmistakable trouble of focusing on the final quorum before my debut ball. Somehow, tax evasion and lack of bread fell short of the dream I’d had of twirling the night away with my handsome prince.

Instead, I spent time wondering if he would like the dress he paid for and if it would be inappropriate to dance with him more than once, given our engagement. In the typical Oreian courtship, the Prince would declare himself for me– declare his intention to propose. That status would alter the standard for dancing. His intentions would be public and only able to progress if I accepted his advance, but to my understanding, Chalke didn’t subscribe to that sort of thinking. I wondered if he would like me– me as a person, not just as his Princess. I wondered if he was bothered that I liked horses.

The hours until the moment I would know filled me with such horrid unease. Time passed slower than slow. Yet, when I dared to divert my attention from my notes, I caught Sameer in a cheeky grin designed for me. I pursed my lips to bar myself from giggling, lest the men who did not take me seriously might witness my response. King Sameer spoke to a baker, to whom he promised more resources, before sending him on his way. There was a small moment of silence; I thought to break it with something witty, maybe a joke, but before I had managed even a word, a farmer was welcomed into the room. He wrung his hat between his hands.

“Your Majesty, sir,” he said with a bow.

“Yes, please. State your business,” the King replied. The man was hesitant. “Come on, tell us. You may be the last for the day, but there are other things we are to attend to soon.”

“I….” He looked between the King and me. “Your Royal Highness.” He bowed frantically as the King cleared his throat. “I come to you with–” His voice split. “It would be easiest to show you, sir. Ma’am.”

With a nod to the guards, they opened the door and brought in a cart.

Immediately, the rot assaulted me. I gagged as the pile of whatever it was he’d brought came further into the room. My eyes burned. Sam looked at me, then back at the farmer.

“What is this?” his father asked.

“This, my king, is one of my horses,” he explained. “At least it was.”

“A horse?” I breathed quietly.

The Prince frowned. “What happened to it?” he asked.

“Your Royal Highness,” the man bowed. When he came up, he looked paler. “Raiders. Bandits. They burned the whole team.”

“My God,” Yosif chimed. He leaned into the King’s ear.

The pair glanced back at me, seemingly in response to whatever the Archbishop had said.

“They told us… I’m sorry, Princess,” the farmer said. “They told my wife and I that every horse in Chalke will burn until Her Highness has gone. They do not recognize the Treaty. They do not recognize the marriage.”

Sam scoffed. “The nerve.”

I stood from the table and rounded it, much to the King’s dismay.

“Princess,” he said.

“I just want to–” I stopped, already as close as I could manage without collapsing or vomiting. “I am so sorry,” I said. The bones had likely been a horse, and I failed to muster the strength to comment further but did bow long enough to offer a moment of respect.

“Awfully odd,” I heard Yosif say.

“Odd to pay respect?” Mr. Adeline replied.

Yosif said, “This could prove a sign the union should not be upheld.”

“You can’t be serious,” the Prince said. “A madman burns a horse, and you cry sign?”

“I-I will replace your team,” I told the farmer. “How large was it?”

His face twisted with the suggestion. “You’ll replace my… my?”

“Yes, of course,” I promised him. “I’m sorry for your loss. More sorry that it happened on my behalf.”

“Sit down, Your Highness,” the King said. “It’s not as though we hadn’t expected this.” He and Sam shared a look. “Traditions run deep in Chalke.”

“Traditions?” I begged. “Of burning horses?”

Sam explained. “There have been complaints of your impending arrival. Of your reigning here. Some bannermen do not wish to support a queen.”

“You’ve had queens,” I said.

“Queens, yes,” Yosif said. “Consorts. Women always behind their man; the man has been the Head of the House. We’ve never invited an outsider, of course.”

I looked at Sam. He stayed silent.

“An outsider,” I repeated. “I see. And you agree with this?” I asked him. “This is how you see me?”

He took too long to reply, and I was angry. I was embarrassed.

Mr. Adeline said, “No one here considers you an outsider. Right, Your Majesty?”

He passively nodded.

“I see. Well, unfortunately for the lot of you, your traditions have failed you,” I said. “Oreia won the war, a nation whose heir needs no man, but Crown offers her hand in exchange for peace. Yet, you discredit it.”

“No one is discrediting you, Your Highness,” the King said.

“Aren’t you, though?” I asked. They were quiet. “The only person who’s spoken up for me is Mr. Adeline.”

Adeline bowed his head.

“Your bandits and bannermen will have to make peace with their Queen, or, I don’t know, perhaps fight harder in the next war,” I said. “I’ll let them decide.”

Sam laughed but tried to cover it with a cough. I ached at his silence.

“The next war?” Yosif said. “Are you threatening it?”

Nausea passed over me from the corpse. I gestured to it. “No, sir. You threaten yourselves.”

He shifted in his chair. “How dare you speak to me this way–”

“No,” I argued. “How dare you speak to me at all. You are not my equal, and you will do well to remember that, Archbishop.”

My chest seized with the comment. I felt a fire burn inside my core.

“Simmer down, each of you,” the King ordered. I glared at him. “There will be no war, Your Highness. I will speak to my banners again when I have time. I did not address it because I did not see it as an issue.”

“You’ll do it this week,” I said.

He cocked his head but then bent it into agreement. “Aye. I’ll do it this week,” he said.