BOOK 3 of The Ostler's Boy Series
-----
Love. Duty. Valor.
Court & Class.
A pseudo-medieval romance through the eyes of a reckless princess.
-----
After Svana and her Knight, there was a Princess and her love of adventure.
Eliza Rose, the wildes...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Willoughby snored.
There was some hidden justice in that fact. My poor Blade had complained about not sleeping at every chance he got, and I knew I was the cause. It was my turn to be restless.
I tried to ignore the sawing of logs by thinking about anything else. But then I stumbled into worry over how angry Willem would be with me when I finally arrived at the castle steps. I tried to think of an excuse to give him. Everything felt cheap.
I hadn't spoken to my brother since our fight in front of the tavern, and I would doubt if he would speak to me until he had time to think about my actions and decide on my intent—an intent I didn't expect him to understand.
Dragons weren't real; I reminded myself. If they were real, I'd stand a chance.
I was a day away in distance and holed up in another inn with the same man I was with before. But then that concern bled into how the Duke had been earlier that night and toward me.
He'd felt cold.
Uninterested; annoyed.
A blurred mess of either— the Duke had been perfectly clear; he was not keen on siding with me for an adventure. My place was at home. I frowned, stewing at his traditional stupidity.
Who was he to decide that? I thought. What of balance? Wasn't that what he was all about? I wanted to know. Why did men get all the fun?
With that, I rustled the blanket enough to throw it off to the floor. It fell onto Ser Willoughby, who'd decided to sleep there, deliberately next to the bed where my feet would go, should I try and leave. He thought he was clever, but when the comforter hit him, he drew it into himself and wrapped it around his body like he was an éclair or some kind of crab.
The movement gave just enough of a path to the door.
I took it.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Downstairs, the tavern was eerily quiet but still open. There was a bartender at the counter and a patron here or there in the large, open space. I settled into the closest chair and tapped the bar for service. He arrived and gave me a once-over.
