Eat the Poor

VII

The castle gardens were gorgeous.

The path through them, laid with tiny pebbles, was bordered by looming, perfectly pruned shrubs in a serpentine hedge maze. Over the hedges, I could see dozens of powdered wigs bobbing around, hear the chatter of the noblemen and the ladies on their arms.

In the center of the hedge maze there was an open area surrounding a tall fountain. Water dribbled from the open mouth of a stone whale into the pool below.

I paused and drew close to the wall of shrubs. The King sat alone on a bench by the fountain, his back to me. His companions stood near him, engaged in some vigorous political discourse I couldn't understand. There were five men and two young boys, maybe twelve or thirteen. I watched the men's walking sticks tap the dirt and their fingers waggle in each other's faces.

The King was looking at the ground. I couldn't see his expression. Was he sad? Lonely? Plotting to kill someone?

I looked for passage into the clearing, but saw only hedges upon hedges upon more bloody hedges.

It was better this way.

I'd gotten too close already. There. You saw him. Now leave.

I pushed the voice of reason in my head away and crouched down so I could crawl through the thick shrub. At once, I regretted it. Sharp, recently cut fronds poked my eyes and scraped at my face. I didn't bother trying to justify my actions to myself. I'd gone mad, plain and simple.

Once snugly buried inside the hedge, I picked up a pebble from the ground and tossed it at the King.

It hit the ground near his shoes.

Damnit.

That should have been my sign to stop, stay put until everyone had left, and return in shame to the servants' quarters.

Return to Geoff, my only friend.

Geoff. The thought of him made my blood boil.

I picked up a bigger pebble.

This one hit the side of the King's leg. He flinched and twisted about sharply with wide eyes.

It was then that I realized what I'd done. Assaulted the monarch. They could call it attempted assassination. Attempted assassination with a pebble. Oh, mother of God.

Too late. He had spotted me.

I grimaced slightly and, like he'd done on the day we met, gave a tiny wave.

His lips dropped open in surprise. The men chattered on in ignorance, fully invested in their debate. The King stood and took one step in my direction, eyes on the group of babbling wigs.

I curled my finger in a beckoning motion.

He trotted over.

My heart was now pounding with the speed of a thousand spooked horses but I was trapped. If I tried to run, the guards would catch me in a heartbeat. I forced a smile as he knelt down and poked his head under the curtain of prickly greenery.

"Hello," I said, because I was too terrified to think of anything else and it seemed to work the first time.

His brow pinched. "What on earth are you doing in here?" he whispered. Perhaps it was my delusional state talking, but he didn't seem angry. Intrigued, more so.

I considered my list of potential answers. Working. No. Too absurd. Studying the landscape to plan a new design. Oh, hell, what was the use?

"I was sort of... watching you," I said.

For a moment he only stared at me, eyes huge. "And, um, why was that?"