by K. M. Shea
“I’m celebrating the recovery and the regaining of my independence. One cannot celebrate quietly,” Elle said.
“I don’t suppose you do much of anything quietly,” Severin dryly said.
“Correct. Jock!”
Severin winced at Elle’s shout, but Jock ran the remaining distance to Elle’s side.
“Where are you going?” Elle asked as the fluffy dog plopped down at her feet.
“The library. I need some research materials.”
“In that case Jock and I shall accompany you,” Elle gallantly offered.
“I am surprised your keeper has released you. Does she know you are raising a racket?” Severin asked as they started down the hallway. Jock ran ahead of them.
“Emele gave me her blessing to run free. She is occupied, supervising the cleaning of my room.”
“Ah, that would explain your celebration.”
“You should be happy. You will not be forced to dine alone,” Elle said.
“I will not dignify that comment with a response,” Severin said, pulling a chuckle out of Elle.
“If anything, I should—whoop!” Elle said as they reached the main floor and Severin pulled her back in the hallway.
“Avert your eyes,” Severin said, his voice quiet.
“What?”
“The mongrel has found Heloise.”
“I don’t understand,” Elle said, craning to see the housekeeper and Jock.
The well groomed Papillon barked as he flew down the stairs, bounding up to Heloise. The tall, stork-like housekeeper had her hands planted on her hips, but when Jock circled her she crouched and held out her arms.
The dog launched himself at her, and she held him like a baby, tickling his tummy as she stood. A smile, the first smile Elle had ever seen Heloise display, was on her face.
Elle stared at the spectacle. “Incredible,” she finally said.
Heloise reached into an apron pocket and pulled out a tidbit of food, which she fed to Jock.
“That explains why he’s overweight.”
“Yes,” Severin said before again pulling her deeper into the hallway. “Heloise has a soft spot for the mutt. Everyone pretends not to know. She thinks it would ruin her reputation.”
“She does not know you are aware of her affection?” Elle asked, watching the severe woman walk off, still cuddling Jock.
“Yes,” Severin said, waiting until Heloise disappeared down the kitchen corridor. “What?” he said when he realized Elle was staring at him.
“You are surprisingly thoughtful in some situations,” Elle said.
Severin’s cat ears briefly went flat. “Some?”
Elle followed Severin when he started walking again. “You are a prince. I have seen enough royalty to know that they generally are not the thoughtful type.”
“I am a general, not a prince,” Severin said.
“You are a prince, Your Highness,” Elle firmly said. “May I speak plainly?”
Severin snorted. “I have never known you not to.”
“You are how a prince should be, mostly anyway, Your Highness.”
“I do not believe I have ever been given such a backhanded compliment before,” Severin dryly said.
“It shocks me that you personally know your servants—and not just their names. You are aware of their feelings.”
“Every good general knows his men.”
“Yes, but I know firsthand that not many nobles see the merit in knowing their servants,” Elle said.
Severin twitched his cat whiskers. “My staff supported me, and continue to support me, in a time where very few others did. They have made sacrifices to be part of my household. I owe them my respect.”
Elle halted when they reached the library door. “You are a befuddling man, Severin.”
Severin paused in the threshold of the doorway. “And you are intelligent, for a peasant,”
Elle made a sweeping bow with her crutch. “I am a rare strain of the breed,” she said. When she tipped upright there was no trace of amusement on her face.
Severin frowned. “What?”
Elle shook her head. “I don’t know what to make of you.”
“In what way?”
“You care for your servants and value them, but you are also ruthless.”
Severin shrugged. “A military leader must make informed decisions. He cannot be emotional.”
“I wasn’t talking about your service in the military,” Elle said, the words slipping out in a voice that was colder than she meant for it to be. She shook her head. “Forgive me, I spoke out of turn. I hope you find the book you are looking for,” she said, making her escape.
“Elle.”
Elle stopped and twisted so she could see Severin.
“You are correct. I am absolutely ruthless when it comes to protecting those I love. I will sacrifice whatever, or whoever, is necessary.”
“You say it proudly, like it’s something to be commended.”
“Isn’t it?”
Elle raised an eyebrow. “No, not when the price is not a sacrifice you pay. Not when morals are crossed because of it.”
Severin narrowed his eyes. “My ‘ruthlessness’ is a sign of my devotion. I am loyal without a fault—perhaps that is something you could learn,” Severin said before entering the library and shutting the door behind him with a bang.
Elle rearranged her crutches. “I could have handled that better.”
Elle picked at her food, pushing her buttered asparagus around her plate. She glanced at Severin, who was seated on the far end of the table. He was dividing his attention between eating and making notes. He hadn’t even acknowledged Elle when she arrived.
Elle shoved a forkful of asparagus in her mouth and thoughtfully chewed. She lost the hard earned camaraderie she had been carefully building by letting her emotions get the best of her and blurting out the words of her heart.
Severin was wrong because of the way he would callously use people for his own devices, but Elle had to admit he wasn’t the cruel, loveless man she thought him to be. And if Elle wanted to repair their friendship she would have to do the footwork. Severin was too proud to help her.
The servants posted at the walls hung their heads, as if personally saddened by Elle and Severin’s row. They perked up when Elle spoke.
“How are the gardens?”
Severin did not look up from his papers and grunted.
The servants smiled and nodded at Elle as she spoke. “Are they fully winterized yet?”
Severin pushed away a paper and reached for a book.
“Emele tells me it is likely to be an early winter. I hope she is wrong,” Elle said.
Severin ate his fish and did not respond.
Elle set her fork down. “Severin, stop pretending you cannot hear me and listen. I am sorry.”
Severin raised his glowing eyes. “For what?”
“For what I said this afternoon.”
“You admit you are wrong?”
“Wrong about what part?”
“Ruthlessness is to be commended if it is for the good of another.”
Elle sipped her tea. “No, that part I do not regret. I was wrong to accuse you of not making sacrifices. I shouldn’t have said that, and I apologize.”
“So you believe determination in securing protection for another is wrong?”
“I suspect what we are disagreeing about is the method of protection, not the desire to protect in itself.”
“Explain.”
“You believe the ends justify the means, yes? As long as the outcome is what you desire—protecting those you love—the way you achieve the goal doesn’t matter.”
“I suppose that is one way to say it. You think otherwise?”
“I do. I would also give much to help and protect those I love, but I would not compromise my morals to accomplish such goals,” Elle said.
Severin sipped his wine. “Then you will not be able to fully protect those you love, and they wi
ll die.”
“They’re going to die eventually. We are born to die. And saying they will die because I will not forsake doing what is right is melodramatic. No one is going to come into their house and place a sword to my sisters’ throats and a sword to the throat of the old man who lives next to them and tell me to choose. It is the little things I would be asked to compromise. By making those compromises I would not be choosing to show my devotion, I would merely be taking the easiest path,” Elle said, picking up her silverware.
“I find myself unconvinced,” Severin said, his cat whiskers shoved forward as he grimaced.
Elle shrugged. “I did not think I would convince you.”
“I believe the difference in our stations is what creates the clash of our beliefs,” Severin said. “You will never be called to make a drastic sacrifice for your family, but for my brother and me it is a common occurrence.”
Elle clenched her fork and knife until her hands shook. The servants nearest to her eyed her silent display of anger and looked worriedly to their master.
“Severin,” Elle said, her tone was calm. “You don’t know the first thing about my family. Please refrain from making light of my situation,” she said before shoving another spear of asparagus in her mouth.
Severin studied her as she chewed. “I apologize,” he said. “My words were careless.”
“I take no offense,” Elle said, reaching for her tea.
“Tell me about your family,” Severin said.
Elle choked on her tea. “Pardon?” she said when her coughing subsided.
“You said I know nothing of your family. Enlighten me,” Severin said, crunching on candied fruit.
Elle leaned back in her chair, as if her spine had collapsed. “I am the oldest of three daughters. My mother died when I was young,” Elle said. She had to be careful with the truths she told.
“Your father?”
“He is alive and well. My sisters live with him in the countryside.”
“What profession is your father chiefly occupied in?”
“Gardening mostly, and caring for the hay crop. My family lives on a small farm. My sisters raise goats and chickens.”
“What did he do previously?”
“I don’t understand,” Elle said.
“Your manner of speaking is too educated for you to be of the peasant class. I assume your father had a higher post when you were young.”
“He was a merchant,” Elle said. “He lost the business after a string of unfortunate events.”
Severin stopped eating. “You are an indentured servant to the crown,” he guessed. “The crown paid your family debts in return for your service?”
“Yes.”
“I apologize for my thoughtless words. You have made immense sacrifices for your family,” Severin said.
“You couldn’t have known.”
Severin ate and Elle thoughtfully studied the servants—who were hiding private smiles.
“A truce then?” Elle asked.
Severin looked up.
“We are friends again?” Elle asked.
Severin twitched his whiskers again, this time in amusement. “If you wish.”
“I do,” Elle insisted before she stood, groaning. “Once again I have consumed too much, but I cannot help it. The food is much too good. Bernadine is going to make me as overweight as Jock,” Elle said, patting her stomach before she retrieved her crutches and propped them under her arms.
“Do you like animals?”
Elle blinked. “Pardon?”
“Do you like animals, like horses and cats?” Severin asked, staring at his wine cup.
“I do. Not so much goats. My sister’s goats ate all the buttons off my best dress the last time I visited home, but I enjoy viewing and riding horses,” Elle said.
Severin nodded and sipped his wine.
Elle waited to see if he said anything else, but he didn’t. “Good night, Your Highness,” Elle said.
Severin nodded, staring intently at his wine cup as he sank deeper in thought.
The serving maids nudged each other as they took away platters and dishes and the manservants beamed behind the prince’s back as they tended to the candles and fireplace.
“A stable?” Elle said, batting Emele away when the ladies maid tried to adjust the scarf hanging from Elle’s neck.
“Yes,” Severin said, fiddling with a cuff of his waistcoat. “Oliver and the grooms are not ornamental staff members,” he dryly said.
“How many horses?” Elle asked, eagerly drawing her hood.
“A dozen. There is my riding horse, several carriage horses, and the work horses,” Severin said, watching Emele help Elle struggle into her suede mittens.
“Are there any dogs? Besides Jock I mean.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“There used to be a kennel, but the dogs snarled whenever they scented me and the kennel master could not control them as aptly as he used to since he lacks a voice,” Severin wryly said. “Stay behind me,” he added.
“What’s wrong—,” Elle’s breath was knocked from her lungs when Severin opened the doors. The wind howled and blew, stinging Elle’s bare skin with frigid temperatures.
Severin stepped out of the castle and turned around to pull Elle after him. He shut the door as Elle tried to hold her wildly blowing cloak against her.
“Hold on,” Severin said before he picked Elle up and perched her on his back, the same way he carried her when fleeing Bernadine.
“Emele would kill you if she knew this is how I’m getting to the stables,” Elle shouted above the howling wind.
Severin didn’t reply—even when Elle pressed her face against the warm fur leaking out of the back collar of his waistcoat. He picked up her crutches and hustled across the courtyard, entering the stable with a bang.
Elle slipped from Severin’s back and leaned against a stall while Severin wrestled the door shut. The stable was solid and warm. It smelled like hay and wood shavings, and several horses hung their heads over the stall doors, looking at Elle with bright eyes.
“They are beautiful animals,” Elle said, drawing closer to the nearest horse. It was a coal black Percheron, a draft horse used for farm work.
The horse sniffed Elle’s gloved hand, hoping for treats. He blew on her, puffing warm, sweet smelling air.
Elle smiled until the horse drew back, pinning its ears against its head. It retreated to the back of its stall and placed its butt in her direction.
Elle frowned and glanced up at Severin, who had joined her at the stall door. “Animals do not much care for me in this figure,” Severin said.
“Which one is yours?” Elle asked.
“The only one that does not shy away,” Severin said, leading the way down the aisle.
Wherever Severin passed horses shied or snarled, striking their stall doors with hooves and flattening their ears. The more docile tempered work horses retreated to the back of their stalls, but a team of matched carriage horses all lunged against their doors.
At the far end of the stable a tall horse hung his head over a stall door and nickered. He had mouse colored fur and a dark colored mane and tail. His muzzle was sooty black—as if he had rubbed his face in fireplace ashes, and when Severin opened the stall door Elle could see the same sooty black color crawled up his legs.
“He’s very fine looking,” Elle said as Severin slipped the gelding a treat from his pocket.
“He was my charger when I was a field commander,” Severin said.
“You kept him when you were named commanding general?” Elle asked, tugging one of her mittens off to pet the charming horse.
“I did. He was too old be used in battles, so he was retired to my personal stables to be retained as a riding horse,” Severin said.
Elle turned to look at the other horses housed in the cheerful stables. “He’s the only horse that is not afraid of you?”
“Yes.”
“That is depressin
g.”
“Their dislike is natural. I smell and have the appearance of a predator,” Severin said, placing a clawed hand on his horse’s neck.
“What is his name?” Elle asked.
“Fidele,” Severin said.
The mouse colored horse brushed his whiskery muzzle against Elle’s palm. “You are a brave and loyal mount,” Elle told the horse as Severin exited the stall and shut the door. “He’s quite furry,” Elle called as Severin climbed a ladder to the hayloft.
“Winter is almost here. All the horses grow thicker coats then. Do you ride?” Severin asked, pitching hay down to the stalls.
“A little. I am proficient enough that I won’t fall, and I can put a horse through the paces. I’ve never owned one, though, and I haven’t ever cared for one either,” Elle said as Fidele left her to investigate his hay.
“Not even when your father was a merchant?”
“No, we lived in a river port city. He conducted most of his business by ship,” Elle said, plopping down on a bag of grain. A tiger striped barn cat shyly watched her from a stall partition.
The draft horses copied Fidele and chewed on their hay, but the hot tempered carriage horses snorted and tossed their heads when Severin climbed down from the loft.
Severin took a wooden bucket of brushes and carried it to Fidele’s stall. He set about grooming the gelding while Elle coaxed the barn cat to her side.
“There is something comforting in being with animals,” Elle said. “It might be that they do not try to boss you, like so many people are prone to doing.”
“I doubt you lack that particular trait—otherwise you would not buck heads with Emele as often as you do,” Severin said. He stopped brushing his horse for a moment and raised his eyes to the hay loft.
Elle scratched the cat under the throat. “Perhaps, but it doesn’t mean I don’t find the quietness of animals to be soothing.”
When Severin left Fidele’s stall and stopped in front of the grain bag she sat on, Elle raised her eyebrows at him.
Severin shook his head at her before he raised a thick finger to his cat muzzle.
The barn cat sniffed Severin’s leg before growling. It hissed and retreated to the stall partition, flattening its ears as it watched Severin.
