Lady Rose was much more vocal than any other women I had met. Which was saying a lot, as I was often the loudest voice in a room. She went on and on about a lady's purpose, and all the things that we might play together as the sisterly pair was often here on grounds. A game; something to do with horseshoes, drifted us into a much more hushed pattern of speech as Rose ventured onto the topic of handsome men in and near the court.

"Lord Barington is always the first to fall in Shoes, I'm afraid. He is intelligent in most things; however, strategy is not his forté, I would say," one of the women noted.

"No. No one would accuse him of being a good shot either," Rose remarked. "But he is fine to look at."

"One of many pleasant faces," Agatha said.

"That scruffy fellow that follows him isn't bad either," her sister teased. "The one with the dark hair. What's his name, Aggy?"

"I've never played Shoes," I added, determined to avoid the mention of whom they spoke. "How do you win?"

They looked at me and partially sighed. "She thinks the rules matter!" Rose laughed.

Agatha smacked her sister's arm. "His name is Cyrus."

"That's it! The ostler fellow. I'd take him for a ride if-"

"He's actually a swordsmaster," I interrupted, quickly biting my tongue. "Or something of the sort... But not an ostler." The girls stared at me. "In case you wanted to know."

After a silence, Agatha came to my rescue. "There are no rules to Shoes." She touched me as a friend and then looked around the room. "It's anything goes, you'll see."

"I-"

"And you'll behave, Rosie. Cyrus is engaged to one of Swift ladies."

"Engaged?" I asked. "Who in the world woul-?"

One of the girls shook her head, "What's this? Aggy's gossip out-dated?"

The sisters frowned, turning to each other, and shrinking the accuser well into her shoes.

"It's just..." she explained. "Lydia... and Cyrus parted. Is all. Over Winter,"

Rose paused, "Surprised it took so long. She-"

The blonde stood a little taller; something catching her eye. She smiled as sweetly as I thought possible before excusing herself from our audience. "I'll return shortly. I think I see my father summoning me."

"A shame. They were well suited for each other, I always thought," I heard Rose conclude.

I wondered what kind of woman would find herself engaged to a man like Cyrus. He was rough. A proven fabricator... and sure, he was kind to staff but he-!

They carried on about charm and wits; twenty names I hadn't heard, but soon, they settled blazenly on their attraction to my fiancé. Sam was at the top of every woman's list. Though, it was obvious some of them seemed to prefer his less metaphysical attributes. I stayed quiet as they giggled.

"She could've worn it down," I heard someone comment from the crowd. And then;

"I hear she's quite hard-headed. Nothing less to be expected from an Eisson mare. Wild things, I hear."

I could not place the voices, and no one seemed to look too crossly at me as I turned.

"Princess?" Rose asked. "Are you alright?"

"Better than taking after her mother, poor girl."

"Do you think she found her?"

"I think she was quite young when it happened, if I recall?"

"She's quite young now."

"Yes," I said, trying to maintain some sense. "I'm fine. ...I think. I think I might benefit from some fresh air. I'm not used to this many people in one room."

The girls nodded, ignorant of the ache so few words had breathed life into. They were as indifferent to my departure as they'd been with Agatha's. I left the circle and cut across the floor, searching for somewhere to hide.

In the corridor, things were less ... confusing. I'd passed a few nosy, 'where is she goings' on my way out, but now that I was alone, I could breathe. Out here, no one worried about my hair.

And then there was a giggle.

It half startled me, but was definitely a woman's laugh and some sort of crazed naïvety wanted to know whose. I ventured further down the hall, through one of the study's open doors, to find it.

With an apple held to her lips, and her hands flat against the built-in shelf, Lady Agatha snickered past the skin of the fruit as its juice dripped over the top of her cleavage. A man, who was very easy to recognize, though still facing her, maneuvered it, watching her face as it reacted to him.

I cleared my throat, unsure of what else to do, which sent both Agatha and the Prince into a sudden shock. He dropped the apple to tie his pants.

"Svana!" he fumbled.

"Oh, I-" Agatha's eyes widened, and she flew by me out of the office before I had decided on what to scream at her. Then it was just me. Me and my prince.

"Svana," he straightened. "This is not-"

"What it looks like?" I asked. "I'm quite familiar with that excuse." I was rigid in my display, though my gut sank fast.

"I can explain," he said. His face became sad as I analyzed it for flaws. Lies, like the ones I'd heard my father had given my mother.

"The explanation is that..." I paused. "You and Lady Agatha have a relationship. Is it just the effects of tonight's champagne, or is this ongoing?"

"No," he said, reaching for my arm; I stepped back. "Aggy and-"

"Aggy," I said. "I see."

I turned to leave and he followed after me, trying to remain quiet with his defense. In the hallway, he tugged at the back of my skirt and pulled me towards him. With it, he unraveled one of my ribbons and I gasped, smacking his face.

"Do not touch me!" I hissed.

Sam retracted instantly and he apologized; his chest heaving with regret. "Please. Talk to me. Let's discuss this."

"What is there to discuss?"

"...Us?"

"Us?" I asked. "What us? We share a single dance and trade compliments and you think you've won me over? That I'm what? Madly in love with you? That seeing you with Aggy injures me?"

"Yes," he said.

"You are mistaken. This is duty, Prince," I spat, purposely emphasizing the title.

But I was. I was injured. I just didn't want him to know it. I begged my body to formulate an expression that kept me safely at a distance. I would never admit it, I swore. Admit he had said all the right things. That it had only taken a week to convince me I-.

Duty. I wanted to puke. Whatever that meant. Twelve years of having that word thrown at me and what did I have to show for it? A silly heart? A romanticism that had no place in this world? I knew better. Sam wasn't Willem, and never would be. Why had I let myself...?

"Svana?" he cried.

"Princess, I prefer."

My head shook frantically and before I knew the plan, my legs had sent me well in the other direction, down the hall, and towards my suite. Sam followed. I tried to ignore his repeated call of my name, a blatant disregard for my request. The clatter of his shoes; the closer we came to the end of the hall; the faster I carried us.

"Leave me alone," I told him. "I don't want to look at you!"

"Let us talk about this!" he insisted.

"That isn't necessary." I slammed the door shut behind me, resting my hands flat to it, in case he decided to charge in, maybe I could-

"Svana!" he begged.

"Go. Away."

I was sprinting.

I had tried to stay in my bedchamber; tried to lay down, to throw myself dramatically into the sheets; to brood, but now I was running. Sam hadn't stayed after my 'go away', and now I was running through the castle. Somewhere, somewhere else, unknown to the party guests and ladies and gentlemen I had left behind with Sam. Unknown to myself.

I had no plan for where I was headed, or even the knowledge needed to navigate these halls, but I was the victim of raging emotion. It wasn't until mud and hay sloshed over my ankles that I even realized I was in the stables.

My face was hot; streaked with hotter tears, and I was panting; out of breath.

At the far end, I caught the gleam of a familiar white coat; my mare, and like a beacon; a sailor's saving light, I went to her. "Ice," I whispered, brushing her mane with my nails. "Hi. Hi, there."

She rustled in her pin, looking at me with her strong, magical eyes and I stood a little taller at the connection. I looked around, finding the saddle I thought was hers and as I reached to pull it off the wall-

"Are you stealing my horse?" someone asked.

Cyrus.

He leaned smugly against a pillar, watching me struggle to unhook the seat.

"Your horse?" I muttered, returning my back to him. "This one's mine."

"Not yet," he advised. "She's still-" He had moved much closer than I had anticipated and when his hand met my shoulder, he twisted me with the nerve to react to my face. "You're crying?" he asked.

"Thank you," I spat. "For that remarkably brilliant observation, Mr. Evergreen. Now, if you would be so kind as to get me her saddle down, I-"

"Why are you crying?" he pried.

"It doesn't concern you," I huffed.

Cyrus barred me from making another attempt at the seat, his height my nemesis. "Because I'm not a lord?"

"Does no one sleep in this place?" I shook my head. "And what does your rank have anything to do with anything?"

"You tell me!"

"If I had any idea of what you were on about, I would!" I said.

"Then if my station does not offend you, tell me why you're upset!" he yelled back.

"Your station has nothing to do with why I won't tell you-"

"Then why-?!"

"It has everything to do with who you choose to align yourself with, and-!"

"Won't you te-?"

"Because you're the Prince's confidant!" I snapped. I took a sharp breath, angry he had gotten that out of me, and quickly crossed my arms.

"...What did he do?" Cyrus' tone became dark with his expression as he discovered the loose ribbon dangling at my side. He stared at it for too long. "Was he inappropriate with you?"

"What?" I asked.

"Did he touch you?" he seethed. "Look at you; your dress. You've been running."

There was a moment of sparking heat between us. "...No, Mr. Evergreen. He was-"

He waited.

"He was..." I grabbed the end of the tie and fastened it back into place. "Feeding an apple to someone else."

Cyrus exhaled triumphantly, "Agatha."

"You're not surprised?"

There was no answer.

"...And then he," I took a shaky breath, swiping my face free from its evidence. "Had the nerve to follow me back to my room!"

He tensed again, watching.

"Well not inside," I hurried to add. "He didn't. I haven't. I'm still-"

Cyrus freed himself from the agony of my flustering, turning to collect a different saddle from the wall. He handed it to me. "You'll ride Tails," he said. "Ice will not do well with your mood."

"We had a moment," I told him. "Just now, we-"

"You and the horse? No. She will definitely throw you off," he said. "You're too nice."

I furrowed my brows, "I'm not nice," I whined, still heeding the warning. I turned to the other stalls, realizing I had no idea who 'Tails' was. "Mr. Ever-?"

"Cyrus is fine," he said. "And the third one. The painted. That's Tails."

I looked around the quiet stable. "...If you're not the ostler, why are you here so late?"

"You're not the ostler," he shrugged. "Yet here you are."

I watched him pick up the original saddle and check its pouches. "You said Ice wasn't rideable?" I asked.

"I said she would not appreciate your mood." Cyrus met a lighter, speckled horse and dressed her, tightening the straps over her sides.

"I'm confused," I said finally.

"Would you like me to draw you a picture?" he quipped.

"Why are you-?"

"I'm taking Edith, here. Not Ice," he frowned. "Seriously. I will draw it out for you."

I gawked. "I do not need a- Well!" I gasped. "I!" I nearly dropped Tails' set in my huff. "How dare you, sir!"

That made him laugh, and, despite his crude remark on my intelligence, Cyrus stepped past me with a blanket, shaking it out and placing it on the stallion for me. He took the seat from my hands and put it on, too.

"...Tails is a stupid name for a horse," I choked. "They only have the one."

It didn't get a rise out of him as I had hoped. When the horse was ready, Cyrus swung his hand out widely and insisted I get on.

"Are you not going to help me up?" I sang.

"What? Help yourself." His brows came together and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

"Wha... What? How?" I stepped closer, wondering if I even could; the seat was just barely foreign enough to trifle me. "I need you to boost me. So that..."

"This is a western saddle," he explained. "Use the horn."

"The... horn?" I didn't know what that meant. "He doesn't have horns."

Cyrus moved closer, planting himself behind me. He took my hand and moved it onto an erect piece that jutted out of the front of the seat, and with his other, hoisted me by the rear up into the air. I threw my leg around the other side, gripping madly to what must have been the horn, and scowled at him as soon as I was safely sat. "Watch your hands!"

"Please." He rolled his eyes. "As if I could cop a proper feel with all that satin."

I struggled to respond.

Cyrus mounted Edith significantly smoother than I had, and whispered to her something I didn't hear. He led her towards Tails and I, asking; "Where are we riding to, Princess?"

"We?" I found it in me to say. "We are not going anywhere. I am quite capable on my own."

"Uh huh," he nodded. "Relax your shoulders. Your posture's wrong."

I groaned. "I am a very experienced rider."

"Aye. So what then? You want me to see me hanged, is that it?"

"H-Hanged?"

"I can't think of another punishment for the man who lets the Princess, his best friend's wife, ride out into God-Knows-Where, well after midnight, no doubt to be murdered by the apparent rise of bandits- or worse. What do you think they'll do to me?"

"Is that? Is that a possibility?"

"Well, I for one would prefer not to find out. I've grown quite accustomed to life here with Edith and with my luck, someone has seen you sobbing madly on your way out here. You're not exactly subtle. I heard you stomping from the door. And, I have been seen, as well. No. No, I'll instantly become their suspect. I think I should just escort you and save us both the hassle."

I stared blankly but a moment later he grinned. Still unsure of if he was jesting or not, I reluctantly bobbed my head. "Well," I said. "Just don't expect me to talk. Especially about feelings. I'm sorry you had to see what you saw; my 'unsubtle sobbing,' but you will keep it to yourself. And don't ask me any questions, as I am not interested in complaining to you. And no. It's not because you're not a lord, it's because I don't know you. All I do know is that you'll likely go and tattle away to Sameer all of my woes as soon as we get back and I can't have that."

"It's the middle of the night, I would at least wait until sunrise. Out of courtesy."

"You think you're rather clever don't you? What, with your-"

"-When do you start not-talking to me?"

"What?"

Cyrus trotted past me and out the door. "Have you had much time to explore the grounds? Or would you prefer I take the lead?" he called.

"I..." I followed after him, watching him navigate seamlessly around the yard. Edith was happy, despite the hour. "You forge our path. If you are willing."

"Oh, I'm willing, Princess," he said. "Do you prefer something scenic, or something brutal perhaps?"

"Brutal?"

"Yes. To shake you from your thoughts. Keep you focused on the task at hand."

"The... task at hand?"

"Not falling off," he said. "Yeah!" With that, he struck the reins and gave his horse a kick, sending her into a gallop.

Stunned at first, I laughed. Dumbly. Sitting stupid upon my steed, and after I had realized he was very far ahead, the competitive side in me woke up. I didn't want to lose, knowing that somehow I'd never live that down with a man like Cyrus Evergreen. So I steeled myself, mirroring his actions and chased him into the night.

• • •

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