“Sorry, I wasn’t thinkin’, Your Highness.” His juvenile voice cracks over his nervousness.
“Are the horses ready?”
“Just like your guard asked. They’re good and strong, but nothin’ fancy. This one’s my favorite.” He pats its haunches. “His name’s Tripsy, but I promise he doesn’t trip. Don’t know where he earned that name. He’ll be good for yourself and the lady.” His innocent eyes dart to me, and I see curiosity there but nothing more. He doesn’t seem to recognize me. It’s a nice change. “The one to the left is Spirit.”
“She’s perfect.” Atticus smooths a hand over her chocolate-brown snout before leading her out of the stall by her reins.
Silmar clicks his tongue, and Tripsy steps forward with a soft whinny.
Zander drops several gold coins into the boy’s hand.
The boy makes to bow and then catches himself. “Thank you kindly.” He lowers his voice to a whisper to add “Your Highness.” He hesitates when he looks at me. “Will milady need a stool?” By the way his face scrunches, I’m guessing he doesn’t have one handy.
“No, I’m good.” This horse isn’t as looming as the black stallion we rode, and I’m not in a ball gown tonight, though it will be the first time I’ve climbed onto one on my own.
“You put your foot in there.” Zander points to the stirrup, smirking. He’s finding my lack of skill amusing.
I make a point of rolling my eyes before following the instruction, gripping the saddle as Atticus did. I hoist myself up, smiling with satisfaction as I lift my leg. Only Tripsy decides to take two sudden steps forward, throwing off my balance. Zander is behind me before I tumble, his hands clutching my hips in place.
“You weren’t kidding about the riding situation.” Atticus snorts as he leads his horse toward the wooden gate.
“Shall we try again, or do you have more insolence you’d like to share first?” Zander’s voice hints of stifled laughter.
I throw my leg over and settle in my spot, lifting my chin with indignation, even as my cheeks burn.
He climbs into the saddle behind me. Without the ball gown between us, I’m keenly aware of his thighs pressed against mine. He doesn’t make an effort to keep his distance this time as he reaches forward for the reins. “We’ll be back in a few hours, Silmar.”
The boy scurries to open the gate and allow us to pass through. The click of the horse hooves echo in the silence of the surrounding street.
“He’s a bit young to be out here all alone, isn’t he?” I ask.
“It’s safe enough. Silmar prefers being outdoors with the horses. He sleeps in one of the stalls most nights. If we can stable them without waking him, we will.”
“Do you call everyone by their name?”
“That’s what names are for, are they not?”
“But you actually know all their names.”
“I try to, yes.” He pauses. “Should I not?”
“No, you should. I just didn’t think a king would keep track of his servants. That’s … nice.” Korsakov had nicknames for all of us because they were easier for him to remember.
“It breeds loyalty. Also, when the king knows a servant’s name, that servant is less likely to do something they shouldn’t.”
“So, it’s more a subtle fear tactic than being considerate?”
“It’s both, but I don’t have the luxury of being nice simply for the sake of it.”
We descend through town at a steady pace. Atticus leads, his head swiveling this way and that, as if constantly on the lookout for threats. We’re taking a different route than the one we took with the cavalry, this one leading us farther to the left of the castle.
“You do this often? Take secret passages and ride horses like Tripsy?”
“You have a problem with Tripsy?”
I steal a glance over my shoulder to find him grinning beneath his cowl. If I didn’t know better, I’d say sneaking out has invigorated him as much as it has me. “No, but I wouldn’t call him pedigreed, compared to the last one we rode together.” He looks more like a workhorse skilled at pulling wagons of stone.
“We can’t ride one of the royal thoroughbreds through Cirilea without attracting notice. And it’s best that Boaz believes us in our chambers, fast asleep.”