Eat the Poor

XXII

Something was tickling my cheek.

I shifted and let out a sleepy groan, wincing as sunlight pierced my closed eyelids. More tickling. I jerked upright.

The first thing I saw was two wide nostrils.

Brownie-Paulo was sniffing me.

"Aye, boy." My voice was nothing but a cracked whisper. "Hey, Brownie."

The stallion rubbed his muzzle against my hair and nickered softly.

I smiled, but only for a second. The memories of last night swirled in my throbbing head. The ball. The salons. Leo. Geoff. The knife. I searched the hay for it frantically, eyes still adjusting to being open, then breathed a low sigh when I felt its smooth handle against my fingertips.

This was good, I told myself. Having a weapon was good. Now I could defend myself.

The world spun as I struggled to my feet, gripping the stall door for balance. Everything hurt. My face. My eyes. My legs.

I'd been drunk before, and the mornings after were never pleasant, but nothing ever to this extent. I hunched over as a sudden wave of nausea racked my body and threw up a stinging mouthful of bile onto the ground.

Brownie-Paulo blinked at me, unperturbed.

There wasn't much in my stomach to go, but I stayed bent double for a minute, coughing raggedly and wiping my mouth with the back of my wrist.

I felt like a dead man walking.

Outside, I cupped a palmful of water from the horse trough and splashed it on my face. Only then did I realize how empty the stables were. Usually, by this time of day, the other boys were all awake and starting the morning chores.

Rubbing both hands over my wet face, I peered in the doorway to the tack room. Amadi stood alone by the saddle rack, a cloth in his hand.

"Where is everyone?" I croaked.

He continued polishing the saddle before him without so much as a glance in my direction. "Take the day off, lad."

My brow pinched. Just the simple movement sent a shooting pain through the back of my eye. "Is the stable closed?"

"Today is the Sabbath," he said. "The Court is in the chapel receiving God's word. No one will be riding this morn."

I frowned as a breeze swept through the open door, carrying a hint of sweet perfume to my nose. For as long as I'd known him, Amadi had never once worn perfume. "Why are you here, then?"

The stable master set down the cloth and turned, his face devoid of emotion. "I have no interest in the word of God."

With a groan, I pushed myself off the door frame and flexed my shoulders. "That makes two of us." I stumbled in a zig-zag pattern for a second before stopping at the stable entrance to look back. "I'm going to go pass out now."

"Wild night?" He appeared to force a small smile.

"A little too wild."

Amadi's eyebrows cocked, and then he was back to work, polishing the same spot over and over, almost unconsciously. I considered offering him my company, but before I could speak another wave of nausea rose in me and I rushed for the nearest empty stall.

🦢•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ 🦢. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ 🦢

Deerist Mother

I was huddled up against the brick kitchen wall, chickens pecking at the grain by my feet, smoke pluming out in fat coils from inside the building.