“I—my lord, I—” Grady stammered. “I was not informed of your departure.”
Vera helplessly looked to Matilda. She wanted to intervene in defense of Grady but was worried she might humiliate him by preemptively coming to his rescue in a situation he could handle on his own.
“Oh, like bloody hell you weren’t. Do it now, boy. Now!” The man sounded more furious by the second.
Grady, admirably, maintained his composure. “My lord, I will be there in a moment. I’m with the—”
Heavy footfalls stomped closer to the stall. Closer to Grady. “I don’t care, you insolent shit!” There was the distinct sound of a fist on flesh, the whimper and grunt of a boy, and Vera was in motion in half a heartbeat. She rounded the door. Grady was on the floor, his arms up defensively above his head, a pitchfork in one hand and a brush in the other.
An impeccably dressed nobleman who was short but more than twice the size of Grady owing to height and girth stood above him, poised to take a kick at the boy’s face.
“Stop!” she shouted. Vera could feel the blood surging through her, her face blazing hot with rage. She didn’t remember how she closed the distance between where she’d been and where she now stood, close enough to grab the wrist of the man in front of her.
He had a puffy face that looked extremely ugly with a scowl fixed upon it and a smear of something stinking and brown across the bottom half of his left cheek. It must have flung off the pitchfork as Grady was thrown to the floor. The nobleman’s hair was inky black, and he wore the sort of long velvet tunic and tights that Vera had imagined Arthur and Lancelot would wear before she met them. He paused and tore his glare from Grady, his lips curled with cruelty, ready to aim his vitriol at Vera until he saw her clearly, and recognition softened his features.
“Your Majesty.” He stumbled backward a step. “I did not realize you were—”
“How dare you disrespect a member of this castle?” Vera snarled.
“Disrespect?” the man blustered. “I have been disrespected. I have a four-hour ride ahead of me, and this stupid—”
“Don’t.” Vera’s voice was pure ice. “Not another word.”
He stared angrily at her but remained silent.
“Grady,” she said, continuing to glare at the man, “please ready his horse. It is best if he leaves sooner than later.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Grady’s voice was quiet behind her.
“Sir, you will wait there.” She pointed to a bench halfway down the stable. “And you will not speak to this young man again except to apologize.”
Vera suspected he’d rather slap her than listen. “Do you know who I am?” the man said in a dangerous whisper.
“No,” said Vera, and she turned her back on him.
Grady’s face was covered in dirt with streaks cut through it by his silent tears. He scrambled to his feet, pitchfork and brush still in hand. Vera wished there was something that she could say to him, anything that would make him feel less small at this moment. When she heard the man grumble away to the seat where Vera had relegated him, she reached out to take the brush from Grady’s hand. “I’ll be with Calimorfis.”
He fixed his tearful gaze on the floor.
“Grady.” Vera put her hand on his shoulder and waited until he reluctantly met her eyes. “He is thrice your age and not half the man you are now.”
He was on the brink of tears, his chin quivering mightily.
“Fuck him,” Vera added.
Grady let out a bark of a surprised laugh. He nodded and set his chin before he set off to work.
“Well said, Guinevere,” Matilda said. She stood in the stall door, keeping her eyes fixed on the nobleman as Vera began brushing Calimorfis. Tears burned at her eyes as if they’d passed from Grady to her like a potent virus.
“I don’t care if I have to brush this horse twelve times. We aren’t leaving this stable until that man is gone,” Vera said.
“I quite agree.”
Thankfully, Grady’s work was quick. When Vera heard the man stirring outside the stall, she feigned taking the brush back to the tool shelf to hover near him. Grady walked the man’s horse out, his face set as he passed the reins to him.
“I’m sorry, boy,” the man growled, not at all sounding as if he meant it. Grady bowed his head respectfully before hurrying to busy himself with ropes and tack at the farthest end of the stable.
Vera crossed her arms on her chest, watching the man mount his horse.
