Prince of the Stable

4. Prince Jordan of Morwich

Aiden was awakened from restless dreams of Ro by the sound of the stable door closing as close to a slam as it could. Groggy, he pulled his clothes on quickly and splashed tepid water on his face before descending the ladder to the stable proper. "Hello?" he said cautiously. 

A stifled cry came from one of the empty stalls, followed by a snarled, "Go away!"

"Can't," Aiden said gently. "Work here. Are you hurt?" He approached the stall with slow measured steps, not hiding his progress so as not to startle. 

A figure rose to a stand, and although the light was dim, it was enough to reveal a cut of clothing not worn by servants.  Aiden gave a hasty bow. "Sir. Most sorry, sir, and pardon, sir, but this the royal family's stable. You need find a better place to, um..." he didn't want to say hide, or cry. 

An arm raised, presumably to wipe a face and Aiden bowed again and retreated to allow the young noble a chance to leave without revealing his identity, though he wasn't sure the gesture would be appreciated. 

Instead the figure emerged into the first stirrings of dawn with his face composed, pretty and familiar.

Astonished, Aiden dropped to one knee and ducked his head. "Prince Jordan! Your pardon, highness, I did not know...."

"Ready my horse," the prince said, his voice wavering to hold the imperious tone.

"Yes, highness." It was the first time he'd met the young prince, though he'd seen him from afar.  The boy - if he dared call him that, since the prince must be eighteen at the least - surprised him with his appearance. He reminded Aiden somewhat of Ro, in that both young men were pretty, but Ro had a maturity about him, and a sly, almost jaded air. He wondered how old Ro really was. He smiled wryly as he led the prince's horse out of the stall. What did it mean when faced with another attractive male his thoughts always returned to Ro. His noting Jordan's looks was like Anthony noting a pretty girl. Didn't mean he wanted to bed her. Him, in this case.

He cleaned the horse's hooves, and then curried the horse carefully before putting on the saddle pad. He liked horses, always had. Better than most people, he'd once thought. Although he hadn't really seen anything to change that opinion, not before the curse and certainly not after.

"Can't you hurry up?"

"Sorry, highness." Which meant, no, without saying so. No, he'd learned the hard way, was never a good word to use with the high born. He hefted the saddle on and fastened the girth, removed the halter and sipped on the bridle. He double checked all the fastenings, and took the reins, leading the steed outside. 

"Hey!  What are you doing?" The prince followed Aiden outside. 

The sun was now peeking above the horizon, casting the small corral in a golden glow. Aiden could see the young prince had dressed in haste, and left without letting his valet comb his hair. He'd done that himself often enough. "Walking the horse, highness. So I can tighten the girth enough your highness won't fall off."

"Fine," he said, frowning and looking towards the palace. "But hurry."

"Sorry, highness," Aiden repeated, not hurrying at all. He lead the horse several times around the corral that served as the exercise yard for the family's horses and tightened and tested the girth. 

"Too late," Prince Jordan said, his voice grieved. "My father's here."

Aiden hoped a one knee obeisance would be sufficient in the mud of the corral. But King Chastain, looking as hastily put together as his son, paid Aiden no mind. Instead, he began to chastise Jordan as if Aiden were not present, which was both embarrassing and annoying. Aiden felt pinned into a position that was soaking his knee while listening to what should be a private conversation.  The young prince had evidently made a friend or two not approved by his father. It was a "you can't tell me what to do" argument, the sort Aiden had with his own father, before the curse. He was even more embarrassed to realize he couldn't recall if a servant had been within hearing or not.   

Servants, he'd come to realize, were the invisible machinery that made life for the high born so smooth. Noticed only if they did their jobs poorly - or if they were comely enough to catch the eye of lecherous noble - being unnoticed and forgotten was the preference. Even if that meant kneeling in the mud. 

Finally - he'd tuned out the specifics of an argument - Jordan snatched the reins and mounted the horse. Aiden scrambled out of the way and King Chastain of Morwich finally noticed him. "You there - go after him!  I charge you with the prince's safety!"

Aiden's jaw dropped. "Majesty?"

"You can ride, can't you? Ready Prince Edmund's horse; you'll never catch him up on anything less. Now, boy! Are you deaf?"

"Y-yes, majesty, right way!"

The king strode off without a backward glance, and Aiden hurried to prepare the horse, hating the sense of urgency that cause him to just brush the area where the saddle would sit and give the hooves only a cursory look. Good horses were lamed by hurrying, but he didn't know what would happen to him if he let Prince Jordan get too far ahead of him. He decided to forgo the saddle and just threw on the blanket and bridle.  He'd not ridden in over three years, but it wasn't something one forgot. 

Prince Edmund's horse was well trained and spirited, and once outside the city walls, it didn't take Aiden long to pick up Prince Jordan's trail - he'd headed off to the woods, cutting across a fallow field. Not only did Aiden have a line of sight, but also a fresh broken path to follow. The young prince was not so rash as to run his horse through a field at full gallop. Even so, Aiden didn't pull abreast of the prince until they had entered the woods and come to a lake. 

Jordan glared at Aiden and said, "My father sent you after me."

"Yes. I'm...not sure why."

Prince Jordan was a pretty boy, with fine features that reminded him of Ro - didn't everything remind him of Ro? His hair was thicker, a medium brown instead of Ro's - stop comparing them, idiot! A slender build that reminded him of his own, three years ago. "How old are you?" Jordan asked abruptly. 

"Twenty, highness. Twenty-one come mid-summer."

"You're the fortunate one. I suppose your father doesn't try to run your life."

That was funny, but Aiden resisted the urge to laugh. He opened his mouth to speak, but remembered his place. 

"I suppose you heard that, back there."

"Not my job to listen to...my betters," he said, hoping the prince didn't notice his hesitation. 

"I just want to marry whom I choose. It's not like I'm going to ever sit on the throne. Besides, I'm only eighteen, I don't want to get married yet.  Edmund isn't married," he added resentfully.

Aiden paused before suggesting quietly, "I'm sure a match has been made."

"Yes, but he's engaged to a girl who's yet fourteen, and they can't marry until she's sixteen. Edward will be twenty-three. I should be able to wait until I'm twenty-three."  He slid off his horse and knelt to pick up a stone that he threw with force into the lake. 

Aiden didn't have anything to say to that. If he were still a prince, he imagined he'd not get any say in who he married, either. Royals didn't. Even though his own inheritance wasn't dynastic in nature - not passed on through his line - a marriage would still be strategic. Clearhaven and Morwich were allies, though like the surrounding kingdoms, Morwich considered Clearhaven's treaties with the fae suspect. Now, he'd learned that servants and peasants also married for strategic gain. At least he now had no one to pester him into marrying. 

The thought didn't give as much solace as it should have. He'd not seen his family or friends since the curse took effect. Not being able to speak of his past had made it difficult for him to make new friends, limiting his topics of conversation, until the people he saw regularly - such as the palace kitchen staff, for example - had chalked him up as the moody, silent one. That wasn't entirely a bad thing, but it promised a lonely future if he couldn't break the curse. He studied the brooding prince. True love? In six months? With Prince Jordan? Laughable.