Cyrus made a poor attempt at mimicry.“I’ve never broken a horse before.”
“Is that supposed to beme?”I asked. “I do not sound like that!”
The Prince smiled. “You do sounda littlelike that.”
“Ooh!” I cried. “Neither of you know me well enough to speak so freely!”
I scowled and snatched my dress into crumpled knots, tearing past the two of them and out through the room and into the hall, my voiceburninghot through a series of gripes and moans.
They tracked me into the corridor, and Sam sighed, more confident with his Blade at his side.
“Princesssss,” he sang. “Come. I did not mean to hurt your feelings. I’m doing my best; I swear.”
“Your best?” I asked.“Thisis your best? Inviting your rude friend to our breakfast to insult me?”
“Yes; I–”
“If youreallywanted my forgiveness, you would forsake your otherobligations,”I said carefully. “Or just spend time with me! Not! Not assign me a sassy nanny!”
“I told you!”He stopped the rise of his voice, dropping it to a shameful whisper.“I’m terrified of horses.”
“We don’t have to ride horses, Your Highness! There are plenty of other things we could do to get to know each other!”
He didn’t reply.
“Ah, I see,” I said, nodding. “Alright. It is very clear to me that you do not wish for that to happen. So, now I must bid you a good day, sir.” I frowned at the other but didn’t offer him a farewell.
They followed me.
Sam gave a quiet, “Svana, wait.”
“What do you want?” I asked. “I’m verybusy,despite what your little list suggests.”
“Cyrus is not your nanny,” he said.
“Come, Prince. Am Ifive?”I asked.
His brow went up. “I don’t know how old you are.”
“A-Are you serious?” I asked.
“I’m sorry; I don’t. Did you tell me?”
“I’m,” I said. “I’m– I– The wholereasonwe had to wait to marry until now is because I was not of legal age in Oreia until February!”
“Next February?” he asked.
“No!” I whined. “February as in just!”
He looked at Cyrus, who nodded simply. Then Sam tried to add to his response but only managed to say, “Happy birthday to you, then.”
Finally, Cyrus whispered,“She’s eighteen, Sam.”
“Thank you,”he said back. “Eighteen is a great age,” he said to me. “In Chalke, we can marry at–”
“I know the age of consent here, Your Highness!” I said.“Itook the time to know your culture!”
“Why must we argue?” he asked. “I thought you would be excited to ride.”
