Descendants of the Kings (Book 2)

Ch 68: Kings and Fools

The ground was snowy beneath Robin's booted feet, his steps careful to avoid slipping.

It had been snowing for the better part of a fortnight, and it was the first time in days that it had let up. As such, it was the first Robin had been let out of the house in as long.

He looked over his shoulder and found Mrs Eliza stood cross-armed at the doorway, a stern line pulling at her pudgy face as she watched him go off. Robin waved and smiled wide, hurrying his step, knowing that if he dawdled, she might pull him back to smother him in more layers of clothing.

As it was, she'd been hard-pressed to let him out. "All this snow's not good for you, Young Master," she'd said, as she grudgingly bundled him in woollen shirts that morning. "You'll catch a cold if you're out too long."

At this point, Robin didn't care if he caught a cold. Usually, he'd enjoyed spending days in the Yellow House, even when he was too sick to go out. Mrs Eliza had made him hot chocolate, Mr George had taught him how to play cards, and Miss Grace even had humoured him by playing hide and seek to keep him entertained during the storm.

But it hadn't been enough. He'd not seen Lyra in almost a fortnight, and he was bursting with the urge to go out.

He was careful with his steps, knowing Mrs Eliza's hawk eyes were on him. He didn't want to give her a single reason to pull him back inside. But as soon as he made it past the thick tree line that separated the gardens from the surrounding forest, he booked it.

It was hard to run with so many layers of clothing, and he was beginning to sweat, but he didn't care, too eager to see his friend.

Once he reached the squat structure of the stone, he stopped to catch his breath. The little tower was just as ugly as ever, gloomy grey and covered in shrubbery, dusted in snow.

Robin let the picnic basket he'd brought drop to the ground and he slipped off his gloves to open the trap door. He was so excited, his hands jittered.

"Lyra, I'm here," he called, as he pried open the wooden covering. "Sorry it's been so long! It's been snowing so hard, that they wouldn't let me out. But I brought a pack of cards Mister George gifted me, and sweet toffee pudding, and I thought we could—"

"—Hush, someone is coming."

"It's my friend, I told you—"

"I said, be quiet."

Robin paused. Two voices came from inside. He jumped in, and as his eyes settled in the darkness, he found the source of those voices.

One of them was Lyra, wide-eyed and nervous. Then, his gaze snagged on that other voice. It belonged to a girl. She stood huddled by the corner, her features pinched into a sneer.

Robin was taken aback. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you had company," he said sheepishly, glancing at Lyra.

He went a little pink, embarrassed at being so loud in front of a stranger. Still, he stuck out a hand. "Hello, I'm Robin. What's your name?"

The girl sneered even deeper, her gaze raking over him with such clear disdain, that Robin took a step back.

Lyra was by his side in a moment, almost shielding him. "Stop," Lyra said quietly, firmly, before the girl could speak. "Don't be rude."

"He's a human," the girl accused. "A little boy."

"I'm not a little boy," Robin interrupted with a frown, unable to help himself. "I'm ten."

"You're practically a baby," the girl scoffed, standing to her full height. She was almost an entire head taller than Robin, so then again, maybe she was older.