“Cadets who are in the right uniform.” A big fellow crossed his arms, then looked us up and down. “And you lot are not.”
“Fuck this…”
Dain turned to leave, but my hand shot out, ready to grab his arm and stop him as Lorien stepped up to the riders, a familiar look in his eyes.
“We put on the uniforms given to us, then when one of the other riders said it wasn’t the right one, we got changed again.” The men followed my brother’s hands as they came to rest on his daggers. “We’re wearing the same damn uniform as them.” He nodded to the cadets who walked into the hall. “So what’s the problem?”
“What’s the problem, sir.”
I let go of Dain because we had bigger fish to fry. The riders were stepping up to my brother, and I would always have Lorien’s back.
“Boots are not regulation,” another rider said with a smirk.
“Not the right boots and not polished to a high shine,” said the other one.
“Your hair is tied back, but theirs isn’t.”
The riders pointed to me and Dain, and that was a mistake. My brother had been largely silent since the moment he got injured, but Dain prowled forward now. That dangerous gleam in his eye made clear something was about to go down.
“Not combed neatly?—”
It was easy to forget Dain’s posh background. He’d affected a broad accent like the rest of us because if he hadn’t, he’d havebeen driven out of Coalbottom within days, but every now and then he’d revert back to the perfectly modulated tones of his childhood.
“Behold the great defenders of our glorious kingdom,” he said, looking the riders up and down. “Protecting the populace from cadets with dull boot leather and unbound hair. Truly, the Royal Riders are a force to be reckoned with.”
“You and your… brothers.” The rider glanced past Dain to Lorien and me. “Aren’t getting in.”
“Is this how you think you’re going to win Fern?” I’m not sure if I’d ever heard Dain use our girl’s name before. Probably because when he did, he couldn’t keep the longing from his voice. “You think this is going to impress her?” When he stepped closer, only the big one was able to meet his eyes comfortably. “Lady Fern requires men far better than a trio of boot inspectors.”
Lorien and I looked at each other, perfectly poised to jump in if these pricks didn’t back down. There was something about Dain’s gaze that had the rider moving out of our way. Perhaps because my brother’s white hair had fallen back from his face, revealing both that aristocratic nose, as well as the fine scars there. I might be the son of a duke, but I didn’t know the difference between a drawing room and a conservatory, but Dain did. His haughty stare had the lot of them stepping away, staying silent, as we walked past.
“Thanks for waiting,” I said to Lance as I slipped into a seat beside Fern.
“You looked like you had it covered,” he said before picking up a bottle of wine and offering it to our girl. “Can I pour you ladies a drink?”
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one to make Fern an offer. When I heard a man clearing his throat, I knew I wouldn’t like what came next, but I looked up anyway.
“Lady Fern.” I did not like her focus shifting to the rider standing at the end of the table. The fact he didn’t have a bunch of flowers in hand was initially a relief, then something farworse. A leather bound book was held out and that’s when I remembered what Lorien had said. Our girl loved books, so why the hell were we giving her bunches of stupid roses when she—? “I’m Benjamin Hamilton.”
The man shook his head, then smiled sheepishly. I waited for Fern to send this idiot on his way with a snort, but instead her gaze softened as she returned his smile.
A smile that belonged to us, not some other rider.
“Ben,” he corrected. “We’re in the same art class?”
“Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you.”
Because the man wasn’t memorable. Because he didn’t get her responding, not like I did. Because he had no place?—
“I thought you might like this sketchbook.” My eyes followed this Ben’s hand as he held the book out. “We could go outside and do some open air drawing one day.”
My focus shifted abruptly to Lorien and saw he was noting every single second of this.
And so was Dain.
The muscle in his jaw was popping and I could almost hear the moment when his teeth started grind.
“As part of the art curriculum?” Fern asked in a soft voice.
