by Sera Trevor
Jasen grimaced at the thought. “Yes, that’s probably true.” He looked down at his shoe bashfully. “Will I see you again soon?”
“If I had my way, I would see you tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. But I am a king, and my time is not my own.”
Jasen’s good mood soured a little at the reminder of Rilvor’s royal status. “I understand.” He paused. “Will you be seeing other consorts?”
“Most likely.”
Jasen turned away, hoping to conceal his flush of jealousy, but Rilvor put a hand on his cheek and gazed into his eyes. “My ministers are more likely to accept my choice if I have satisfied them that I have explored all of my options. I hope I do not need to explain that the thought displeases me as much as it does you.”
“Of course not,” Jasen said, but in truth, it did feel good to hear him say it.
Rilvor brought Jasen’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “Until next time.”
There was no one to accompany Jasen back to his room; he wasn’t sure if that was an oversight or if they finally trusted him to find his own way around. He felt dazed as he drifted across the palace, like he was floating on air. Or perhaps as if he were riding on the back of a dragon.
He came crashing back to earth when he round the corner and ran straight into Minister Adwig. The man’s eyes swept over him. “Good afternoon, Lord Jasen.” His tone was respectful, but there was a smirk on his face. “I trust you had an enjoyable morning with the king.”
Jasen’s instinct was to get away quickly, but he made himself hold his ground. He lifted his chin and met his gaze. “Yes, it was very enjoyable.”
Adwig’s smirk grew smugger. “Indeed. You may want to have your valet redo your cravat and hair before you return to your lessons—I am sure Lady Isalei would not approve of you looking quite so…disheveled.”
Jasen blinked at him for a moment until he understood what he was getting at. No doubt he thought Jasen had hastily dressed after the king had taken the “pleasure” that Adwig had so graciously insisted he would not interfere with. His face grew hot, but he did his best to keep a hold of his temper. “Thank you for letting me know. I was having too much fun with the little princess to notice.”
Adwig’s brow furrowed. “The princess?”
“Yes—Princess Ayera. She sat in my lap during the puppet show. Didn’t the king tell you what he had planned for me this morning? We had a lovely time—it was so nice getting to know his children.”
Awig scowled. “How delightful.”
Jasen tried to hold back his grin of victory. “It was.”
“I suppose this is all very delightful for you,” Adwig continued. “Your lovely rooms in this palace, all of your fine clothing—such a change from your previous circumstances, is it not?”
It was so shockingly rude that Jasen wasn’t sure what to say. “I-I suppose so.”
The minister smirked. “I am sure you have lessons to attend, so I won’t keep you any further.” He bowed. “Good morning.”
Jasen gave an awkward bow in return. “Good morning.”
Jasen let out a breath as soon as the minister was out of sight. The pleasure of his time with the king had faded and all of his insecurities came rushing back. But why should he be intimidated? Rilvor seemed as if he didn’t put much stock in Adwig’s opinion. It still hurt that the man thought so little of him. He tried to put it out of his mind as he made his way back to the East Wing. If Rilvor didn’t care, then he wouldn’t care, either.
At least that’s what he told himself.
Chapter 7
It was another two weeks before he heard from Rilvor again. In the meantime, Rilvor met with Lady Merey, a beautiful and charming young woman from Genyon with red hair not dissimilar from his own. Jasen bore the news quite maturely. He only got a little bit drunk the night he heard about it, and when he overheard her telling her friends what a marvelous time she had with the king and how gallant and handsome he was, Jasen gritted his teeth and politely excused himself from the room instead of screaming.
It was easier to bear when Rilvor met with Lalan, since it caused a pretty entertaining tiff between her and Polina. Polina lorded over her minions with more benevolence than bullying, but a meeting with the king was an insubordination that she could not endure. Of course, Lalan didn’t have any say in the matter, but that was no excuse, according to Polina. Lalan, for once, stood up for herself, which led to increasingly snide remarks between the two. Over the course of a few days, it escalated into an actual physical confrontation after etiquette lessons, in which Polina snatched the wig off of Lalan’s head. The teacher, the elderly Lord Consort Fricio, tried to separate them, which resulted in his wig also being knocked off. Lord Drancis, who was a consort in training from Camory who had been sponsored by Fricio, decided to throw himself into the fray. One by one, the refined young lords and ladies got caught up in the brawl—no punches were thrown, but there was a great deal of fan-slapping and clothes-tearing.
In the end, four guards had to be called to break it up, after which everyone in the class was confined to their quarters for the rest of the day. That was fine with Jasen—it meant a break from classes, and it had given him the best laugh he’d had in a long time. It was even worth sitting through the stern lecture they all received from Lady Isalei, who threatened to deny all future engagements with the king until after the Suitor’s Ball. Polina and Lalan both gave an extremely tearful apology. Jasen suspected they were crocodile tears, but later that night in the Swan Parlor, Polina and Lalan secluded themselves in the corner of the room and wept as they held each other and made declarations of undying friendship. For some reason, that put Risyda in an extremely sour mood, but Jasen thought it was sort of sweet.
Jasen was a little concerned that Lady Isalei would follow through on her threat, but a few days after the brawl, a discrete white card arrived with Jasen’s breakfast, requesting his company on a horseback ride through the draemir.
“Horseback riding, Rotheld!” Jasen said, waving the card at him. “I bet I don’t have to wear a corset just to ride a horse. And I’ll get boots, won’t I?”
Jasen could have sworn he saw the corner of Rotheld’s mouth twitch into a brief grin, but it was gone too quickly for him to be sure. “You are correct, my lord.”
Jasen beamed.
He finished his breakfast and allowed himself to be dressed with a minimal amount of complaining. His good spirits, however, didn’t last very long. When he entered the parlor where he took his usual remedial etiquette lessons, he was surprised to see Minister Adwig waiting for him.
Adwig bowed. “Good morning, Lord Jasen. Are you quite well? You look pale.”
“No, sir,” Jasen stammered. “I mean, yes, I am well.”
“I am glad to hear it. I understand that you are to go riding with the king—it would not do for you to be ill.”
A feeling of unease stirred in Jasen’s stomach. “Forgive me, sir, but I’m supposed to meet with my tutor now.”
“You are excused from your private tutelage today.”
“Why?”
“I have spoken with Lady Isalei, and she agrees that you would benefit from a riding lesson.”
“I know how to ride a horse,” Jasen said curtly. “I don’t see how this is necessary.”
“You know how to ride in the Grummish style, no doubt. The riding style differs here. We wouldn’t want you embarrassing yourself in front of the king.”
Jasen’s face flushed. “Forgive me, but you are not my instructor. I would like to speak to Lady Isalei.”
“Lady Isalei has other business to attend to at the moment.” Adwig produced an envelope from inside of his coat and handed it to Jasen. “But she did leave you this message.”
Jasen opened the envelope and scanned its contents. Sure enough, it read exactly as the minister had said it would.
“I could have had a servant send it,” the minister continued. “But I thought it might be nice for us to get a litt
le better acquainted.”
Jasen had nothing to say to that, but Adwig didn’t seem as if he expected a reply. He bowed. “And now I will leave you to prepare yourself. I hope you have a pleasant outing.”
Jasen just stood there for a moment after the minister left the room, but soon shook himself out of it. It was clear that the minister wanted to rattle his confidence, but he wouldn’t let him. With new determination, he headed back to his room and summoned Rotheld to help him change. After he was ready, he made his way to the stables.
When he arrived, there was only one person in the stable that he could see. It was a petite young man, brushing a white horse that had clearly just been out for a run.
“Excuse me,” Jasen said, approaching the figure. “Can you tell me where to find the stable master?”
The figure turned, and Jasen couldn’t help but let out a gasp of surprise. It wasn’t a young man after all—it was Princess Polina. “Oh! I thought you were a boy.”
She seemed just as surprised to see him, but recovered quickly. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I ride every morning,” she said.
“Dressed like that?”
“Yes,” she snapped. “I couldn’t very well ride in my usual gowns, could I?”
“I suppose not,” Jasen stammered. He couldn’t stop staring at her—she looked so different without her enormous hair and elaborate dresses. He realized for the first time how tiny she was. Without her shoes, she was only as tall as his shoulder. “I just didn’t think that you would want to be seen in such…well, dressed like a boy.”
She flushed. “I am not dressed like a boy. It is perfectly acceptable for a proper young lady to wear suitable riding attire. It isn’t as if I’m running around without a jacket, like some ill-mannered people do.” She turned back to her horse. “Besides, there isn’t anyone here to see me.” She scowled. “Or at least there isn’t usually.”
“I’m sorry,” Jasen said. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.” He wanted to ask her why she was grooming her own horse, but decided it might not be prudent.
“So what are you doing here?” she said. “I thought your people lacked the refinement for the equestrian arts.”
“I know how to ride a horse,” he said, exasperated.
“You know how to sit on them and move from place to place,” she said. “It isn’t the same.”
Jasen felt himself flush with anger. “Perhaps you’re right. That is why I’m here, actually—to learn some of your customs. Lady Isalei wanted me to be prepared for my ride with the king tomorrow.”
She dropped her brush and whirled around, her mouth opened in a perfect oh of outrage. “Another audience already?”
Jasen couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Yes.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a large man with a fearsome black beard, who was accompanied by a young stable boy—Jasen guessed he was the stable master. “And how was your ride this morning, Princess?” he said with a fond smile.
“Enjoyable as always,” Polina said. “Thank you, Darcer.” The stable boy stepped in to lead her horse away.
The man addressed Jasen. “I assume you are Lord Jasen?” He sounded notably less fond than he had when addressing Polina. “Minister Adwig has told me that you require some lessons. Is that so?”
Jasen didn’t like the way he was looking at him. “Yes.”
“I will be happy to assist you in a moment.” He turned back to Polina. “Is there anything else I can do for you this morning?”
“No, thank you, Darcer. It’s become rather crowded.” With that, she left.
Once Polina was gone, Darcer approached him again. “Let’s get a mount for you and we can begin,” he said. “Boy!” he called to the stable boy, who promptly appeared. “Prepare Barbaras.”
“Barbaras?” the boy asked. “Are you certain?”
“Yes, I’m certain!” he bellowed. The boy went scrambling back into the stalls. A few moments later, he came out leading a monstrous red stallion. The horse held his head high and seemed to look down his nose at Jasen.
“I’m not sure this is the horse I want,” Jasen said.
“Nonsense,” Darcer said. “You’re an experienced rider, aren’t you? And Barbaras is one of our more striking stallions. One of the king’s favorites. I think you’d look quite good on him, with your red hair and all. And that is what’s important here, isn’t it. Looking good for the king.” The last was said with just a trace of a sneer.
Jasen didn’t like his attitude, but what could he do about it? “I suppose so,” he said. Jasen approached the beast. The horse met his gaze and exhaled noisily. He was definitely judging him. Jasen swallowed.
“Does my lord require help mounting?” Darcer asked.
“Of course not,” Jasen snapped. He grabbed the reins and got onto the beast successfully.
Unfortunately, that was the most successful part of the ride. Once they were out in the yard, things went downhill. The saddle was much smaller than Jasen was used to, and the reins felt different as well. Darcer kept shouting directions at him about his posture, the way he held the reins, the position of his legs—apparently, everything he did was wrong. And Barbaras certainly wasn’t willing to make things easier for him. The horse clearly couldn’t believe he’d been saddled by such a rube—or at least, that’s the way it seemed to Jasen. He had to fight with him every step of the way.
At last, Darcer declared the lesson over. They went back to the stable, where Jasen shakily dismounted. At least he’d managed not to fall off. Darcer was giving him a smug look—no doubt Minister Adwig had put him up to it. The trouble was that it had worked; his confidence was completely shattered.
He had trouble concentrating the rest of the day. He made mistake after mistake, even in areas that he thought he had mastered. He’d been so excited about seeing Rilvor again, but now he was dreading it. Even though he knew he was playing right into Minister Adwig’s plans, that knowledge didn’t help any. After all, it turned out he was right. Jasen didn’t know what he was doing—with the riding, or with anything else, for that matter.
The next morning, Rotheld fussed over him as usual; the riding clothes were certainly more comfortable, but it still involved a lot of primping. There was to be no corset, thankfully, and boots instead of shoes. His brown frock coat was much shorter than usual, and his breeches were not quite so tight. He would carry no fan, obviously, but his hands were not left unadorned— he wore tan leather riding gloves. They had a brief argument about his hair—Jasen thought that it should be simple, since they were going riding, but Rotheld strongly felt that the simplicity of his outfit ought to be complimented by a more ornamental hairstyle. They compromised on an ornate top hat. It had to be pinned in his hair with great precision, ensuring that it didn’t budge. Jasen thought it looked ridiculous, and it pulled at his hair uncomfortably. But he supposed it was a fair trade for the lack of a corset.
He made his way to the stables. Rilvor had just arrived. He was wearing a red riding suit that perfectly complements his features. His long, black hair was tied back, much as Jasen’s was, except he wasn’t wearing a hat. He was standing by his own mount—a silver horse, sleek and lovely. They made quite a striking picture together.
Rilvor caught his eye. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Jasen replied. Already he could feel himself sweating with nervousness.
Rilvor considered him carefully. “I hope you enjoy riding. It just occurred to me that I never asked.”
“Oh, I like it fine.” He kept his gaze down at his gloves as he pulled at the fingers. “Although I’m afraid I don’t really know all of the customs of riding the Draelands. Darcer was kind enough to give me some instruction, but it turns out I’m not very good at it. In Grumhul, we’re more pig people than horse people. Not that we ride on pigs! I don’t think that’s possible, except for maybe the Queen’s pet pig, who actually is quite
large. She always let the children take rides on him. I used to ride him when I was a child—not her current pig, obviously, since it was a while ago, and I think her new pig is a girl. Anyway, I was pretty good at it, too, but of course there are no rules for riding pigs—you just sort of hold on and hope for the best—”
A touch of a finger at his chin stopped his babbling. Rilvor lifted his face until their gazes met. “I am sure you are a fine rider,” Rilvor said.
Rilvor dropped his finger, but not his gaze. His eyes were such a nice blue, so gentle and yet piercing at the same time. Jasen felt his face flush. The moment was interrupted when Darcer entered from the stalls with Barbaras in tow.
Rilvor frowned. “Were you riding Barbaras yesterday?” he asked Jasen.
“Yes,” he said. “Darcer said he was one of your favorites.”
Rilvor turned to the stable master. “I enjoy Barbaras, but he is much too spirited for a less experienced rider. You ought to have known better, Darcer.”
Darcer looked at the ground. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Rilvor thought for a moment. “Bring me Shae.”
Darcer bowed and led Barbaras away. “Shae will be more suited to you,” Rilvor said once the stable master was gone. “You need a steadier mount.”
Darcer returned a short time later with a dapper mare. Immediately Jasen felt better about his chances of not making a fool of himself. Both he and Rilvor mounted their steeds, and soon they were off, heading towards the draemir.
They ambled along at a leisurely pace. Shae proved to be a much better match for Jasen, responding easily to his commands. They rode in silence for a little while. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly, but it didn’t seem right that they should be out together and not talking about anything. The only topic that came to Jasen’s mind was the weather, which was unacceptably banal.
Jasen rode slightly behind Rilvor, a position that gave him the opportunity to examine him without Rilvor noticing that he was staring. Rilvor sat straight in his saddle, his command over his horse effortless. He was the embodiment of regal. His handsome face was neither severe nor open, but falling somewhere in between. It was comforting to be in his presence—to cede control to someone so clearly capable of taking care of everything. It wasn’t any mystery why he was a popular king.