The Ostler's Boy (The Ostler's Boy Book 1)

Chapter Nine

"What does 'duty' mean?" Cyrus asked me as our horses strolled happily. He and Ice were ahead a few feet and between how slowly Tails moved and my moody dwelling, he'd actually jolted me with the question.

"Beg pardon, sir?" I shook myself.

"Duty," he said. "You said 'duty doesn't rest' the other day."

I shrugged. "It was something Sam said to me when-"

"I remember that. In the stables." The blossoming trees rustled under a light wind, carrying their discarded petals down over us like snow. "But I'm asking what duty means to you." I wasn't sure if he'd felt the same reminder of Ísfjall's mountains that I did. Or if he were even from the higher parts of home.

"I don't understand the inquiry, sir," I sighed. "Would you like me to break down the etymology of each word, or-?"

"Just duty's fine. Is that something that's important to you?"

"He asked the Princess," I croaked.

"Court and class has nothing to do with finding worth," he said, appearing beside me. "Duty isn't important to Sam. In fact, as you may have gathered, he uses that particular word ironically. But you seem to believe there's a real weight behind it."

"I hadn't realized you were a philosopher, Mr. Evergreen."

"You call your knight Eli but you can't call me Cyrus?" he moaned. "And no." His hand pressed softly to the small of my back. "Relax. You're stiff again."

I squirmed closer to the horn to escape, worried I'd feel that spark. "I don't understand why this saddle is so... uncomfortable."

"Because you're stiff," he said.

"How am I supposed to break a horse I'm not even riding, anyway?" He didn't answer that. "I feel like there should be riding involved."

Ice snorted, I thought, in agreeance, settling with Cyrus' touch to her neck. "...You are riding," he said, shushing her after.

"Tails. The world's most proper gentleman." I groaned. "Why do you get-?"

"No chance you'll run out of questions, is there?"

"Beg-"

"-Pardon, sir!" he mocked me. By the end of it I was seriously trying to ignite him into a spontaneous act of combustion. Finally he hummed, "You two don't even know each other. Let her catch your smell."

"My smell," I scoffed.

"Yes. Ice needs to get used to having you around. So avoid your natural unpleasantness. It doesn't make you friends."

"No," I chuckled. "No, I suppose I should adapt a better approach. Perhaps I'll make people I know nothing about feel badly for how strangers perceive them, highlight their already known flaws, and then give them unsolicited advice about them. That feels more natural in attracting friendship." I looked pointedly at him as he raised a brow.