The Ostler's Boy (The Ostler's Boy Book 1)

Chapter Seven

The four of us were wasted, our breathing difficult, as we slowed to a stop near an open field. It was surrounded by an army of large oak trees, and seemed to be the only safe haven for the roses in this nation. I smiled as they came into view, sparsely decorated around the grass and under the crescent moon.

Cyrus dismounted his horse, and held his hand out for mine. "Princess?" he said "Let's let them rest for a moment. You think?" I could tell he was equally winded from the excitement of the race as I, though he wore it better. And that made me feel strange about being alone with him out here; gasping.

Still, I took his offer, and tried to slide from Tails with grace, but instead, the horrid weight of my ball gown forced me towards him in a hurling mess of fabric. Soon I was on top of him, and he was laid out, flat into the grass!

He stared oddly at the position that we found ourselves in, and I blushed as I realized his hands had caught me at my hips. I hurried to find my feet, brushing the dress free from an invisible; obscene amount of dirt, unable to meet his eyes.

Cyrus muttered something as I forgot to help him up, and I bit my lip out of distress. "I'm sorry," I managed. Ridiculous.

"That is such a heavy dress," he remarked.

"It was very expensive," I said. For what reason? I didn't know.

He brushed a hand over the back of his trousers then instructed our horses not to wander off from where they stood. He stepped out into the meadow and I looked between him and the obedient creatures, reluctantly impressed by how liked he was by them.

"You are quite the gifted equestrian," I commented.

"You humble me," he said.

"Now that," I paused. "That is the first real Oreian thing I've heard you say."

"What is?"

"'You humble me,'" I parroted. "My favorite knight says it, near every day."

"Ah yes. Ser Willoughby?" he asked, his accent returning with each vowel. "He seemed nice."

"Willoughby? Ha! Heavens, no. I mean, sure he is nice but. No, that's not who I'm talking about... You haven't met the one I'm speaking of."

"You mean Ser Elías?"

"I do," I said, smiling. "Have you met him? You'd know it. He's the big one. Quiet. Older." I waved my hand over my face, "Constant frown."

Cyrus looked at me, "...You only came with two Blades."

"Oh," I shrugged. "Well, my apologies for getting excited. Anyway, Eli is our watch's commander. He counts for two in himself. So really, I came with three. You see?"

"Eli," he nodded.

"A slip of tongue," I lied, "Ser Elías has been with my father and I since I was a child... I think you'll find he's the far superior conversationalist anyway. Once you get him talking."