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

Chapter Eleven

My lungs heaved so noticeably that his eyes fell to the tops of my breasts. The whole notion disturbed him so greatly, he took a long step away from me and smoothed the lip of his shirt with a lowered brow."Beg your mercy. My pardon," he cried.

"...You remind me of him in so many ways," I hadn't meant to say.

"Of Sam?" he asked, offended.

"The ostler's boy."

He shoved his hands into his slacks after a second. "Who?"

"My friend," I sobered. I shook myself from the memory of tousled blonde hair. "Back home. The one I skipped rocks with."

"Right." He shot another over the water, this time harder. "You expect me to believe you were friends with a stable buck."

"Do not call him that!" I tensed, every stone dropping from my hand. I swiped one over the other, sweeping off the dirt and closed my eyes to fight the threat of Miss Hellveig's awful voice. 'Stable buck!'

"You called him the ostler's boy. You clearly don't remember his name. Some friend. Yet 'stable buck-'"

"Please," I begged. "You cannot use that term." 'With me' I should have added, but he stared at me.

Of course I knew it wasn't a real offense. And of course I knew Willem's name. But. What did I have to prove to this man? What good would breathing life to that pain bring? The truth was, I had tried to find the boy. To find Willem. I went as far as to hire Elías to do just that. And after twelve years of absolutely no reward, Willem was gone. And Cyrus. Cyrus was a rake and an ass. He didn't deserve the comparison I had offered him. I wished I could reel it back into my mouth.

My teeth slid over each other and I didn't want to be outside anymore. I wanted to go home. Home home; to brood by the fire in my tower of ice. Where no one ever saw me, or terrorized me with games and secrets, or talked about my mother, and-

"My father was an ostler," Cyrus said breaking the spiral. His voice had taken a kinder hesitation. "It's not a slur; stable buck."

His father was an ostler. I could've cried at the synchronicity.

"Princess?" He was more focused on me now than before, stepping close enough to smooth the tear from my cheek. "...You said I was gifted with horses. That's why. I've grown up with them. I've grown up a stable buck," he said. "It's not a bad word. I did not mean to offend you."

"Just my luck," I cursed. "Is your..." I locked the memories of feathers and true love away, melting back into my steely facade.

Cyrus seemed to see it happen.

"There are only two Evergreen lines I can think of. Though I've been without my governess for a few years, perhaps I'm ill-informed. But last I checked, neither were ostler types."