“Our feed schedule is right on target.” Grady pitched his voice lower than was natural as he led them through the stables. “And father tells me the new lot are training up exceptionally well. There is one small matter.” He paused, looking at Vera with concern. “With Calimorfis.”
It took Vera a beat longer than it should have to remember that was her horse’s name, as she’d not ridden since the night of her arrival. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing is wrong,” he said as he led them both into Calimorfis’s stall. She was pristinely groomed, and she whinnied, tilting her silky neck toward Grady. He forgot not to smile as he stroked her head. “Since your return, she hasn’t been ridden much, and she’s getting antsy.”
“Oh.” Vera was ashamed she hadn’t thought a thing about that. “Who rode her while I was away?”
“Mostly the king, Your Majesty. Occasionally, he’d ask me to. She’s an incredible horse. It was my honor.” Grady chuckled as the horse leaned her head into his shoulder. He nuzzled her back. “Any time you wish to ride, I will gladly ready her; just say the word. I can do it in minutes,” he said with pride. “And in between, if you’d like, I can ask one of the knights to ride her.” He sounded mournful at the idea of it.
“Would you mind riding her for me?” Vera asked.
His eyes lit up. “Me?” His low-pitched voice had vanished and was replaced with squeaky excitement.
“Certainly. But only if it isn’t an imposition—”
“Your Majesty, I’d be honored!” In his glee, he hadn’t even realized that he’d interrupted her.
“Thank you, Grady,” she said, grinning broadly as Calimorfis continued to lean into him. “She clearly adores you. I think I’ve lost her favor.”
“She’s easily won with only a bit of love. The king showed me,” Grady said. “Give her one good brushing, and you’ll be back in her graces. I could get a brush and show you?” He was so hopeful that Vera found herself nodding enthusiastically.
Grady tore out of the stall and ran down the stable row.
“He’s always fancied you,” Matilda said. “And now he’ll love you forever.”
Vera blushed and buried her face in her hands. They were both laughing, so they didn’t hear the ruckus immediately.
Grady must have been returning with the brush, but the moment’s peace was upended by angry shouting and the slam of a fist against wood.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, boy?”
Vera didn’t recognize the voice. Whoever it was shouted so loudly that she was sure it could be heard all the way to the entrance hall.
“My horse! My horse should have been ready an hour before my departure. You stupid fuck, what are you staring at?”
“I—my lord, I—” Grady stammered. “I was not informed of your departure.”
Vera helplessly looked to Matilda. She wanted to intervene in defense of Grady but was worried she might humiliate him by preemptively coming to his rescue in a situation he could handle on his own.
“Oh, like bloody hell you weren’t. Do it now, boy. Now!” The man sounded more furious by the second.
Grady, admirably, maintained his composure. “My lord, I will be there in a moment. I’m with the—”
Heavy footfalls stomped closer to the stall. Closer to Grady. “I don’t care, you insolent shit!” There was the distinct sound of a fist on flesh, the whimper and grunt of a boy, and Vera was in motion in half a heartbeat. She rounded the door. Grady was on the floor, his arms up defensively above his head, a pitchfork in one hand and a brush in the other.
An impeccably dressed nobleman who was short but more than twice the size of Grady owing to height and girth stood above him, poised to take a kick at the boy’s face.
“Stop!” she shouted. Vera could feel the blood surging through her, her face blazing hot with rage. She didn’t remember how she closed the distance between where she’d been and where she now stood, close enough to grab the wrist of the man in front of her.
He had a puffy face that looked extremely ugly with a scowl fixed upon it and a smear of something stinking and brown across the bottom half of his left cheek. It must have flung off the pitchfork as Grady was thrown to the floor. The nobleman’s hair was inky black, and he wore the sort of long velvet tunic and tights that Vera had imagined Arthur and Lancelot would wear before she met them. He paused and tore his glare from Grady, his lips curled with cruelty, ready to aim his vitriol at Vera until he saw her clearly, and recognition softened his features.
“Your Majesty.” He stumbled backward a step. “I did not realize you were—”
“How dare you disrespect a member of this castle?” Vera snarled.
“Disrespect?” the man blustered. “I have been disrespected. I have a four-hour ride ahead of me, and this stupid—”
“Don’t.” Vera’s voice was pure ice. “Not another word.”
He stared angrily at her but remained silent.
“Grady,” she said, continuing to glare at the man, “please ready his horse. It is best if he leaves sooner than later.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Grady’s voice was quiet behind her.
“Sir, you will wait there.” She pointed to a bench halfway down the stable. “And you will not speak to this young man again except to apologize.”
Vera suspected he’d rather slap her than listen. “Do you know who I am?” the man said in a dangerous whisper.
“No,” said Vera, and she turned her back on him.
Grady’s face was covered in dirt with streaks cut through it by his silent tears. He scrambled to his feet, pitchfork and brush still in hand. Vera wished there was something that she could say to him, anything that would make him feel less small at this moment. When she heard the man grumble away to the seat where Vera had relegated him, she reached out to take the brush from Grady’s hand. “I’ll be with Calimorfis.”
He fixed his tearful gaze on the floor.
“Grady.” Vera put her hand on his shoulder and waited until he reluctantly met her eyes. “He is thrice your age and not half the man you are now.”
He was on the brink of tears, his chin quivering mightily.
“Fuck him,” Vera added.
Grady let out a bark of a surprised laugh. He nodded and set his chin before he set off to work.
“Well said, Guinevere,” Matilda said. She stood in the stall door, keeping her eyes fixed on the nobleman as Vera began brushing Calimorfis. Tears burned at her eyes as if they’d passed from Grady to her like a potent virus.
“I don’t care if I have to brush this horse twelve times. We aren’t leaving this stable until that man is gone,” Vera said.
“I quite agree.”
Thankfully, Grady’s work was quick. When Vera heard the man stirring outside the stall, she feigned taking the brush back to the tool shelf to hover near him. Grady walked the man’s horse out, his face set as he passed the reins to him.
“I’m sorry, boy,” the man growled, not at all sounding as if he meant it. Grady bowed his head respectfully before hurrying to busy himself with ropes and tack at the farthest end of the stable.
Vera crossed her arms on her chest, watching the man mount his horse.
“I’d consider finding a new stable boy,” he said as he tugged his riding gloves on, unable to resist vying for the final word. “This stable smells far worse than any I’ve ever visited. It needs a good cleaning. It’s shameful that this is our king’s stable.”