Sam tilted his head at his friend, ignoring the question.
I tried again. “Are you–”
“Good morning,”the swordsman said. He nodded at his friend and, with a confidence hard to avoid, looked at me and grinned. “Good morning, Princess.”
“We’re having a conversation, sir,”I explained.
His eyes grew sarcastically. “Yes, and to encourage that fact, I said good morning to you, as one often does whenconversingwith others.”
“Good morning,” I said plainly. “You–”
“You look tired.”He scanned me quickly.“Were you up late, Your Highness?”
I shut my mouth; his traveling eyes found mine, and a single arched browgoadedme to lie.
Sam brushed my forehead with his hand. “Perhaps you’re ill?” he asked.
“W-What?” I pulled away, quickly forming and hiding the fist in my lap.
“You haven’t touched your toast,” he said.
Something about the way that Mr. Evergreen watched me made me feel raw and unprotected. “...I-I’ve never broken a horse before,” I said anxiously.
Then, to my shock, he plucked the apple from my plate and bit into it, closing one of his eyes at me. Both of mine flew open and hurried to Sam’s face to see if he had caught the act, but he hadn’t; he was grossly into his meat, completely unaware.
I flushed as Cyrus used the tip of his thumb to swipe his lip.
“As stated, you’re in good hands, Svana,” the Prince said.
“W-What?”
He snapped his fingers. “Oh! Right!” Then he gestured between the two of us, rushing formalities. “Cyrus, Svana, Svana, Cyrus.”
“You do know I’ve met him, yes?” I asked. “Once in the square, once in the yard. Once in the hall, and once–”
“Is she always this rude?” Cyrus asked. He took another bite.
Sam laughed and dabbed his mouth with the napkin, opting not to indulge in the inquiry. He swallowed, then bobbed his head.
“Yes, you did meet, of course. I forgot,” Sam said.
“He…” I gawked. “He just ate my apple.”
“Weren’t you done with it?” Sam asked. “No matter. We have more. Do you want another?”
“I–”
“Oh! Cyrus, did you tell Henry of your assignment?” He emphasized it with his fork, telling me, “Cyrus often helps Henry with the day’s work. He goes as far as to stay in the barn, too. Bloody devotion, that is. I think I’d hate to take the time to go home every night.”
“Thebarn?”I asked.
“Yes. I saw him there last night,” Sam said.
“Yousawhim?” I asked.
Cyrus and I met eyes.
“I was working late,” he explained. He flashed me a look. “One of the girls needed a new shoe. And yes, I stay in the barn sometimes. When I am too tired to travel to my cottage, or I need to be up early, I guess. Sam here likes to paint me as something of a nomad, I’m afraid.”
