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

Chapter Fourteen

I'd never seen someone tying a saddle knot so furiously before but Cyrus was making it his sole purpose in life. I arrived quietly enough to see him yank, shove, and weave the leather in and out of Edith's straps with such careful precision that I knew undoubtedly this was a common outlet for his frustrations. But he moved deftly, and it was a perfect display of the mastered control over his hands. Still, it was almost comedic how angry he was about it. Worse, how angry he was when he finally noticed I was there.

"Good morning," I said, tentatively.

"Is it?" he tossed one end over the other. "What's good about it?"

"...Well," I started. "The sun is-"

"That was rhetorical, Princess."

"Where is Isaac?" I asked. She wasn't in the stalls as far as I could see. In fact, Tails was ready to go, and the whole barn was eerily quiet.

"At my cottage," he told me.

"Are we not-?"

"I will break her on my own time, and deliver her to you when it's done. October maybe. Sooner if you stop scheduling tours."

I shifted nervously. "If you had agreed to speak with me, I wouldn't have to schedule tours." I said. "I play the hand I'm dealt."

"I didn't peg you for a gambler," he laughed harshly.

"...Kind of strange to find myself on this end of a tantrum."

His eyes narrowed. "I wanted space. I asked for space. Don't accuse me of tantrums when-!"

"Space?" I cried. "Because my knight discovered us in the farmhouse? Cyrus! He thought what anybody else with half a brain would have, finding us like that!"

"Is that what you think this is about?" he croaked.

"I don't know what to think. I didn't think you were the type to let people's opinions shape your actions!"

He all but threw the belt he held, taking a long, measured step at me. "I don't!"

"Just admit to the bruised vanity so that we may move on!"

"You humble me," he seethed.

"I didn't ask you to carry me into that house! You should've left me in the dirt!"

"You should have higher standards for the company you keep if you think that's an appropriate way to treat a woman!"

"Yeah? What about men who get me drunk?"

"That," he gawked. "Was a dual effort!"

"I only asked that you talk to me!"

"No!" he cried, catching himself. "No. You asked me if I felt sparks." He was within a foot now. I could see the rise and fall of his chest; I could hear it. His ragged breathing; it made mine louder, too. "Then turned around and asked your prince to have me take you to the place where you will marry him!" His eyes dropped to my lips as everything else about the moment took on a softer, injured ambience. "...Do you have any idea how much I don't want to do that?" I trembled, trying to nod, or shake my head, and with another pant, he added; "Did you even read my letter or did you just send it back as it was?"