Her eyes lit up, and she nodded. “I will ask the steward first thing. Anything else, miss?”
“That will be all, Pru.”
I meandered through the halls, memorizing the layout and entrances to the palace. With each servant or guard I passed, I studied his or her expression. Most were grim, fearful, or wary.
Death had indeed come in the night. Was there an investigation being held? Had they found the culprit? My servant glamour would give me access and answers to many questions I wouldn’t otherwise know. Taking an abandoned load of laundry, I followed a pregnant servant into the washroom. I knew how to wash clothes, so I tossed the linens into the large stone basin and listened as I took the large wooden spoon and stirred the laundry. The ten ladies there spoke in hushed voices, worry in their eyes.
“Did you hear? Someone’s dead. The beast has returned.”
“Who?”
“Thomas Buckold.”
“No!” An echo of silence filled the circular washroom, hands stilled, and the water in the basins calmed.
“How?”
“Throat mangled.”
Gasps.
“Where?”
“Beyond the stables.”
“Which ones, the king’s or guards’ stables?”
“Don’t know.”
The women tittered and prattled on like sparrows, repeating the same questions with no clear answers. I knew that to get real answers, I would need to look elsewhere, and that was outside near the stables.
Abandoning the wash, I left out a rear exit and into the courtyard. The pressure of holding the glamour on my dress began to build, and I could feel the headache forming at my temples. Releasing the servant glamour, I felt the pain immediately dissipate and breathed a sigh of relief.
A thrill of excitement slowly built again within me, and I made my way through the yard and to the king’s stables.
Not caring who saw me, I walked between the white marble pillars and under the king's insignia of a wolf with a crown of thorns.
I was greeted by equine visions of the purest white. They were being groomed and brushed until their manes gleamed, saddles rubbed with oil and buckles polished. The stable hands ignored me as they went about their business, but I was quite taken with a particular white mare. The plaque hanging on her stall door read “Nova."
“Hello, Nova,” I whispered and reached out to stroke her nose. At home we only had Jasper, our workhorse, and Bug, our donkey. I grew up trying to ride Jasper, but he did little more than stand there, refusing to move unless there were carrots or apples. All dreams of riding the countryside bareback, hair flying in the wind, were gone, as Jasper was more stubborn than the donkey and only let my mother ride him. We did eventually learn, but I wasn’t one that particularly enjoyed riding horses and left that to my younger siblings. When we were younger, we were led to believe a widespread rumor that Bug was an enchanted prince and forced to live out his days in servitude to our mother. We each have tried to kiss him to break the spell, but were only rewarded with blank stares. Thinking back on it, it might have been Aura who had started that rumor.
I could see a host of guards by the far stables, standing beside a wagon. A large canvas covered a bag with what I assumed was a body inside. If I could get close enough, I could find out more.
“What are you doing?” a gruff voice called out. My hand stopped inches from Nova’s nose. “No one’s allowed to touch the royal horses except for us.” The stable master wagged his crooked finger at me as he rushed down the row.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think there would be any harm.”
“Of course there’s harm. The priest himself blessed them. We are to let no unclean hand touch the horses.”
“Don’t be so harsh, Master Thomas,” a masculine voice chimed in, and I turned to be greeted by one of the royal guards. Unlike the two behemoths at my door, this one was tall, with broad shoulders and a kind smile. He stepped to my rescue and quickly placed himself in front of me. “I’m sure the lady is pure of heart and her intentions were good.”
The stable master sputtered, “But… but no one touches the horses.”
The kind stranger placed his hand gently on my back and turned to lead me out of the stables. “Well fine, then she can touch my horse.” He tossed the comeback over his shoulder in challenge and winked at me.
I couldn’t hide the snort that followed. He gave me a cheeky grin, and I quickly settled my face, my mother’s words coming back to me: “A lady never lets her emotions show.”
Outside of the stable, I looked upon the horse whisperer a little closer. His hair was a sun-kissed blond, his eyes a warm brown, his skin tan from hours riding in the sun. The smile came easily to his lips, and I could feel myself falling for his charm.
“I’m Gaven Hostler,” he said with a bow, his black-furred cloak billowing out from around his broad shoulders, where I saw a crossbow holstered. “And you, my lady, are…?”
He was obviously waiting for my name, and I panicked. I wasn’t sure of his relation to the prince, and I didn’t want to have those warm eyes change to a look of disgust.
“Rose,” I answered, shortening my name and hoping he wouldn’t put two and two together in case he had learned of my full name.
“Rose.” Gaven held out his hand for me to place my arm across.
I was proud that I didn’t smile or respond, but my hand shook as I gently laid it across his, Gaven’s being the second male’s hand I had ever touched besides Prince Xander’s. My hand rested on his so he could draw his sword to protect me in a moment's notice, but who would protect him from me?
My eyes were drawn to how my fingers brushed ever so softly across his wrist. Being treated gently and with respect was a new feeling and one that I desperately craved. We walked down farther to the guard’s stables and entered.
“Here we are, Rose.” He stopped in front of a large roan eighteen hands tall. Unlike the soft beauty of the king's horses, this was a horse made to carry a man in full armor into war. “Meet Wulfbringer, or Wulf for short.” He stepped aside and let me confront the animal, and I felt petite next to his hulking frame.
I didn’t immediately reach for his forehead, and Gaven stepped in. Grabbing my wrist, he brought it up in front of Wulf’s nostrils and let the massive horse sniff and nibble along my palm, learning my scent. His greedy lips moved across my hand the same way Jasper’s did. Feeling more confident, I brought my hand up and ran it down his long muzzle.
As I was being friendly with the horse, I saw a gathering of soldiers standing outside a closed-off area. Gaven watched me interacting with his horse with interest. I had never had eyes study me so intently; I dared not look up and meet his gaze for fear a blush would stain my cheeks.
“You haven’t been here long, have you?” he asked. “I would have remembered meeting a beauty such as yourself.” He cocked his head sideways, and I could see him studying me, a smile at the corner of his lips. Reaching into the saddlebag hung on a peg in the stall, he pulled out a carrot and broke it into three pieces, handing me one to feed Wulf.
Beauty. He’d called me beauty. My cold heart melted at his kindness. “No, I’ve only been here a few days. I came for the wedding.”