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

Chapter Eighteen

I yawned, violently as we arrived to the familiar patch of wildflowers the farmhouse oversaw. And I could not slide off of Isaac quick enough. She'd only tried to throw me a number of times, but the real issue was my momentum. I moved like someone poured molasses out onto the grass. I hadn't even taken pleasure in riding her, I was just exhausted.

Despite what I had told Willoughby. I hadn't fallen back asleep from his intrusion- or whatever it was. Somewhere between the embarrassment of divulging secrets within the early hours, and the guilt of working my staff so hard- an entire night and an entire morning with these rides- had started to eat me. On top of that, it was difficult to shake the dust of Ser Elías' and my's fight. I felt off. Incomplete and frustrated. Like I was witnessing the death of our relationship; helpless to prevent.

The man had only ever wanted the best for me, only ever protected me. And here I was sabotaging everything he'd ever done to see to it. I was too proud to apologize; too sure he'd consider it praise for his way of demonstrating his loyalty.

Cyrus didn't need a lesson in manners; he needed to run far, far away from me. Far away from Ser Elías, and everything the two of us could offer him.

But I didn't want him to. I wanted to know why he kept eyeing me.

He took Ice's lead and released her into the fenced area along with Edith. Willoughby ushered in his pair, and when they were all happily running amuck, he latched the gate and patted my knight on his back. He leaned in, whispered something, and Cyrus, again, looked at me.

Josie came and gushed beside me, obliterating all hope to crack the mystery from here. 

"Daniel wants to show me the riverside," she hummed. "I am forever in your debt for this. Had it not been for you, I would never have spoken to him so freely."

"Oh, I don't know," I touched my cheek, feeling my own sort of excitement. If Willoughby was taking her to the river, did that mean-? He had promised me time alone; I was shocked he'd meant it.

The two men sauntered closer, my knight holding his arm out for my maid's with a smile for hers. "Miss Jocelyn, at your leave," he said.

I saw the nerves, or delight, or whatever it was, lift her off her heels a fraction of an inch. She took his hand much more modestly, not forgetting to curtsy to us. "If it pleases you, Miss?"

"Josie," I whined. "Don't offend me by asking permission. The gentlemen requests your audience. If you should want to entertain him, then be free to accept his invitation. And. That goes for the lot of you," I added. "Stop calling me Your Highness. And bowing. We're alone. We're friends. Titles have only ever been a formality for everyone else but friends."

"As you wish it," Wiloughby said. "Svana."

He'd meant to call my bluff, and it did feel weird, but I followed my name with his to drive the point. "I do wish it, Daniel."