Page 17 of Crown of Iron
The two men exchange smirks, and Ulric says, “Hardly. You need to pick up their shit.”
I stare down the aisle of stalls. There are at least two dozen with more on the outside of the building. “All of them?”
“All of them,” Terro says.
Ulric steps to the side, blocking my only way out. “That was Kyron's orders.”
“The general has spoken, so it's time to get to work.” Terro nods to the tools hanging from the wall and opens the gate to the last stall.
Taking a shovel and a bucket from the ground, I step inside with a hefty brown and black horse. The steed rears his head with a boisterous neigh and kicks his back leg. I jump out of the way, and its hoof lands on the bucket, flinging it from my grip.
“Watch yourself, Elle,” Ulric says, stepping up next to Terro and resting his arms on the top of the fence.
“Should be entertaining to watch me get my teeth knocked out,” I grumble, righting the bucket and digging into the hay with the shovel.
“Or a chunk taken out of your ass. Samson's a biter,” Terro says with a wink.
The horse bristles as I move around him with cautious steps. I've spent my fair share of time in our family stables and had a mishap or two. One nasty horse isn't going to scare me away.
“Easy boy,” I say, holding out my hand to keep him at arm's length.
Samson nips at my fingers, barely missing them, and the men laugh.
I dig the end of the shovel into the ground, place a hand on my hip, and with a stern tone say, “Seriously, is that necessary?”
The horse snorts.
“You know you're being an old grouch for nothing.” I continue to move around Samson, cleaning his stall as he follows me with a skeptical gaze. “I'll tell you what, you let me do what I need to do, and I'll reward you with a treat,” I say, scooping up the last of his mess and then reaching into my pocket.
The horse dives for the half-eaten apple in my hand, and I pull it back.
“Be a gentleman about it, will you?” I offer him the fruit again and this time, he gently takes it from me. “Good boy.”
Terro and Ulric stare at me with slack jaws as I step out of the stall. I swing the shovel over my shoulder with more confidence than I feel. Without turning to look at them, I say, “Looks like I have a way with disagreeable men.”
They don't answer back, and I take that as a good sign as I enter the next stall.
As soon as the wooden gate swings shut behind me, I let out a sigh. They want me to break, to go running home, but I won’t do it. I will muck every stall and sleep on the hard ground every night, but I won’t back down. I will finish what I came here to do.
Six
Mucking horse stalls, gathering chicken eggs, and milking cows—I've spent three days playing Basecamp's newest farmer. The work is backbreaking, and the smells have me gagging more than once a day. But despite my less than comfortable condition, I've done every damn thing Kyron has ordered through Greer, Ulric, and Terro in hopes that I can make my move soon.
I turn my filthy face toward the dark gray clouds pouring rain. My eyes flutter shut, and I spread my arms to the side while holding a bucket filled with spoiling fruits and vegetables. The rush of water washes away the mud clinging to my cheeks, cooling my heated skin. It just might be the most enjoyable thing I've experienced since arriving here. It’s a small grace that I’m thankful for.
I'm snatched away from my blissful moment when something rams into the back of my knees. The pail flies from my hand, and my palms smack to the ground, sliding forward. My face plants into a thick, smelly pile of mud. I whimper from the sting in my knees and lift my head. Slicking back my muddy hair, I watch a plump swine meander to where his friends snort down the slop.
“Impatient assholes!” I growl, spitting mud and limping out of the pen.
“Are you all right?”
I lift my head to find Leif standing under the tin eaves of the feed house. He holds an umbrella and not a hair is out of place. Humiliation washes over me. Of course, someone had to bear witness to the pigs getting the better of me. It feels like every task I've been given is to enhance my chances for embarrassment.
Joining Leif, I drop onto the bench outside the feed house door, and my shoulders slump.
“Where have you been?” I ask.
He sits down next to me and scrunches his nose before scooting away. “They've kept me busy.”
