Page 19 of The King's Queen

I find Torin flirting with a random stableboy near the east entrance, his finely clothed back turned to me. I can’t help but roll my eyes as I approach. Truly no one is safe from his charms. No one but me, that is.

The young stableboy goes rigid when he spots me behind my friend and looks as though he cannot decide whether he should bow or run.

“Gaven what- By the Laei!” Torin curses when he spins to find me within a breath’s width of him. “Who taught you to sneak like that?” The stableboy, Gaven, finally decides on bowing before jogging off to do whatever task he had been set to before Torin undoubtedly disrupted it.

“Isolated princess, remember? A girl’s got to get around somehow.”

“Noted.” He coughs and rolls his shoulders.

“How’s the horse from yesterday?” I ask, nodding my head in the direction of a certain stall. The beautiful stallion has his head out, his neck craned and teeth bared at anyone who comes too close.

“Ah, just as righteously pissed off as before.”

As he speaks, Vestíg reaches out and grabs the collar of a stable hand who walks too close to his stall and gives a ferocious tug. The poor girl lets out a blood curdling scream as her blouse begins to tear and his large teeth graze her neck, though not deep enough to draw blood, I note. Torin rushes over with the others to try and pull her free. She lands heavily against the stone. Just as the creature is about to strike again, I throw myself between them and brace for the grinding of teeth, flesh, blood, and bone, but it doesn’t come. Instead, I find myself staring into two flared nostrils, the fine animal’s neck curved as to let me know he has the space to lash out if he wants to. But he doesn’t. Rather, his hot breath fans my face, and I find myself reaching up to touch his muzzle when something hard slams into my abdomen.

Vestíg immediately begins to snort and kick at the stall door, pinning his ears and shaking out his midnight mane. His neck ripples with powerful corded muscle, the faint signs of dapples showing across his crest.

“What are you thinking Vera?” Torin grunts as he pushes himself off of me, brushing off some invisible dust on the lapels of his jacket before extending his hand. I brush it aside and pick myself up, staring back at the raging beast, who seems less beast-like now than he had before.

“What, so everyone else can help, but I can’t?”

“Notice how everyone else stayedawayfrom his mouth.” Torin emphasizes the word ‘away’ with wild gesticulations. “But not you, you put your face right up in there.”

“Whatever, no harm no foul right?”

Torin eyes me suspiciously before letting out a deep breath. “Right… what were you here for, anyway? Just to see the horse that almost killed you?”

“I need to blow off some steam, I want you to take me for a ride.”

“I’ll do it.” A suave voice says from behind us both, and I spin to find none other than my fiancé standing there. He wears a deep maroon tunic under a black leather vest, embroidered with copper thread. His dark trousers are tucking into tall riding boots, a man who came prepared to play the part.

“I asked Torin,” I reply curtly, already walking to where Gaven has begun tacking my mare. A sweet-tempered thing, plump with a lovely dappled grey coat.

“Torin, I believe, has some more pressing matters to attend to. Right, Torin?” Lucius responds with a wink in the direction of Gaven. Torin, the lecherous traitor, straightens his collar and grins.

“I believe I do, Mei Reinhavich. Enjoy your ride, My Lieges.” He sketches a bow and ignores the vulgar gesture I give him behind my back. Lucius, to his credit, does not seem bothered. Instead, he rather skillfully tacks one of the Tesslari horses that he arrived with yesterday.

“Are our horses not well suited to you, your highness?”

“On the contrary,” he says in his infuriating courtier’s voice. “Jacques here could go with a good hack though.”

I scoff. “You named your horse Jacques?”

“It’s a noble name. Besides, my mother told me that giving something a human name increases its value.” He shrugs.

Did your mother teach you how to be an arrogant prick too? I want to ask, but I bite my tongue and urge my mare into a clumsy trot. The mare steps out with long and gracious strides, however, it’s my riding that makes it so ungraceful. Admittedly, it has been some time since I’ve last ridden, and my muscles are already beginning to ache with the strain of holding myself in the saddle.

“You know,” Lucius says from where he sits, poised with perfect equitation atop his own mount. “It would be easier if you let your legs lengthen and wrap around her barrel rather than shortening them and sticking your heels in the air.”

“Oh, so now you’re an expert equestrian as well?”

“I did lead my father’s cavalry when I was 15.”

Pretentious bastard. I ignore him for a moment before I feel myself begin to tip to the left and lose my balance. Begrudgingly I extend my legs and hold pressure in my thighs, and find, albeit much to my displeasure, that he had been right. The mare sighs in relief as I cease to thump on her back, and I give her a quick, apologetic pat. Lucius nods his approval, as if I ever had sought it out.

A slight cool breeze wisps by as we trot smoothly over the palace grounds. The large canopy trees stretch their willowy arms above our heads, offering shade and privacy. I let my head tip back and stare into the filtered sunlight as it dances between the emerald leaves. The earth thrums with life as hooves pound stone and dirt, and the air smells of rain. From my peripheral, I can see Lucius staring, and as he opens his mouth to say something, I urge my mount into a canter.

I can hear Jacque’s thunderous steps encroaching and curse bitterly to myself. Just what would it take to shake this prince?

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