Twisting around, I spotted Philip crossing the grass toward me in long, easy strides. I began to scramble to my feet, but he waved me back down.
“Don’t get up. I’ll join you.” He threw himself to the ground beside me and gave me a broad smile. “How goes the goose herding, Lark?”
“There seems to be a lot more sitting than herding involved.”
He laughed.
I surreptitiously examined him. He looked different from the day before, now wearing the standard outdoor uniform I’d seen a couple of gardeners wearing.
“The palace park seems a strange place to meet a not-coachman,” I said. “Unless you’re actually a gardener. In which case the driving seat of a carriage was a strange place to meet a gardener.”
“I’m not a gardener, either.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Then what are you?”
He shrugged. “I suppose I’m a sort of jack of all trades. I help out wherever I’m needed.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So what are you doing here?”
He grinned at me. “Checking that the new goose girl hasn’t lost any of the geese.”
“Well, then?” I stared him down. “Go on, count them. Are they all there?”
He stared briefly at the gaggle before turning back to me.
“All accounted for. Well done.”
I narrowed my eyes. “There’s no way you counted all of them.”
“I counted the ones that matter.”
I bit my lip. It was a hard strategy to fault since it was the one I had decided to adopt myself.
“Rumor is that you’re mentally disturbed by the attack on the road.” His tone didn’t indicate what he thought about these apparent rumors.
“Do I look unbalanced?” I snapped.
“No, not in the least,” he said calmly, and I relaxed.
“Which leads me to wonder,” he continued, “what you’re doing out here herding geese.”
I stiffened. I’d fallen into that trap far too easily.
“Maybe I prefer it,” I said.
“Do you?” he asked.
“Would you want to work for her?” I muttered under my breath, but he must have caught my words because he chuckled.
“No, I can’t say I would.”
I looked at him sideways, wishing I could see inside his head. What did Philip know of Sierra?
“Personally, I’m not one for serving at the beck and call of royalty,” he said, as if in answer to my thoughts.
“Isn’t that what you’re doing now? I could have sworn you were a servant just like the rest of us.”
“Oh, but this is different.” He stretched out his legs. “I don’t see any royalty.”
I glanced around, but he was right, there were no riders in sight. I nearly pointed out that he’d only just missed them, but something made me pause.
“Exactly how much oversight does a new goose girl need?” I asked instead.
He raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”
I shrugged and played with a blade of grass. “I just thought if you’re going to come out to check on me again tomorrow, you might as well come a little earlier and join me for lunch.”
I looked up in time to catch a hint of surprise on his face, although it was quickly replaced by a pleased smile.
“Perhaps I will.”
“But you’ll have to bring your own food,” I added quickly. “I don’t intend to share my own rations.”
He stood and gave me a deep bow. “A gentleman would do no less, of course. Tomorrow, then.”
He loped away without further farewell. I watched him go, my brows knit. I couldn’t deny it felt lonelier now, and colder, without his presence and warm smile. But I felt uneasy as well.
I had grown up in a palace, so I knew something of their ways. Servants who were accepted in the stables—sent on important missions as coachman, even—didn’t tend to check on geese the next day. He had said he helped out where needed, but those sort of servants—when they existed at all—sat at the bottom of the hierarchy. They didn’t carry themselves with Philip’s confidence, or talk to senior grooms as equals.
There was something strange about Philip, something he wasn’t telling me. And I couldn’t help but remember that Sierra and her men had implanted themselves in my own palace. Was it possible Sierra had men positioned here in Arcadia as well? Philip certainly seemed to be showing undue interest in me, but I hated to think it was at Sierra’s orders.
I sighed. I had no way to force him to tell me the truth. I could just hope that Sierra and Percy intended to ride at the same time every day. Observing Sierra and Philip together might give me the answer I needed.
Chapter 7
In the afternoon, grown overconfident by the smooth progress of the morning, I decided to herd the geese to a new spot. I reasoned it would provide them with fresh grass and myself with new environs to observe.
However, no sooner did I start calling to them and waving my staff around, than the largest of the birds rushed at me, honking and hissing. He flapped his wings, suddenly appearing at least twice as large as before, and I quickly retreated.
I hovered for a moment at a safe distance before giving up and plonking back onto the ground. We had moved slightly during the course of the day, leaving close-cropped grass behind us, and apparently that was sufficient for the birds. I began to think apprehensively about the coming evening and the need to return to the shed. Why hadn’t the Poulterer given me more instruction?
The afternoon passed slowly, my mind revolving endlessly between rage at Sierra’s betrayal, growing concern for the safety of Daria, Cassie, and Daisy, and constant, fruitless speculation about Philip. Sierra had made me doubt myself, but already I was disproving my fears that I was reliant on a life of luxury and ease. But it wasn’t enough. A true princess put her kingdom first, and she always found a way. I couldn’t sit here, tamely tending geese while Sierra caused untold damage to our kingdom’s standing.
Thankfully, as the sun began to dip lower and lower in the sky, the most immediate of my problems solved itself. With a sudden loud honking and rustling of wings, the geese all gathered themselves up and turned for home. I scrambled to my feet and fell in behind them. The sweeping motion of the staff came easily after the morning’s practice, but I still felt like a fraud. I couldn’t actually direct the gaggle with it, merely prevent the occasional stray from wandering free.
I counted the adults three times as we walked, relief making me light as a feather when the pen finally came into view. The Poulterer stood by the gate, waiting for me, arms crossed, so I quickly counted them again. Still twenty-five adults. The birds streamed into the pen, honking loudly, and I ducked inside to replace the staff where it had been leaning against the inside wall.
As soon as I was back out, the Poulterer whipped the gate closed and glared at me.
“You seem to have done well enough.”
“Oh…I…” I struggled to find a response, thrown off by the contradiction between his face and words. “I did my best,” I managed at last.
He grunted, nodded, and strode off quickly enough that I concluded he didn’t mean me to follow. As a princess I had learned to read people and diplomatic situations, but it seemed reading people was a skill servants had need of as well. Did they study their masters with as much dedication as I studied the ambassadors and royals my family negotiated with?