“Course I have.” I haven’t.
He laughs. “Princess just used a bad word.” His voice is sing-song. “Naughty princess. She said fuck!”
I kick him in the shin. Hard.
He swears again.
I start to run. “I’ll be out of this maze before you. Last to get back to the roses is a loser!”
The clock is striking five before I see him again. I’ve heard him nearby, never too far away until the last half hour or so. Heard his teasing words and I’ve made sure he hears mine back. I’m by the roses first and when I see him appear he looks worried.
“Where were you?”
“Here. I’ve been waiting ages, loser!”
He shakes his head, serious. Too serious. “I got out ages ago. Seriously. I went back in the maze to find you.” He is tanned, but I can see the yellow peeling off him. Fear. It’s genuine.
“I didn’t get lost…”
“You must’ve taken a wrong turning near the gargoyles. I thought you knew the short cut…
“What short cut?”
He shakes his head. “Shit. I thought you knew the maze.”
“First time in it today. You didn’t need to look for me though. I’d have been alright.” My balloon of pride has been popped. “I thought I’d won.”
He shrugs, awkward with his lankiness. “You did. You were at the roses first.”
“You don’t need to let me win. You went back in to find me.”
He looks at me funny, serious. “Aye. I’m good at finding things usually. If they’re lost. What’s your name? Apart from ‘princess’?”
I scowl. I hate the title. “Blair. And not Princess Blair. Just Blair. What’s yours?”
“Ben.”
I’ll say the name a lot in the next few years.
In more ways than one.
He never did let me win again.
I dismount my horse and lead her into the stables to rub her down. Later, Elise will bring her mount here and let the stable hands do it, just like I know she’d laugh at me for doing it myself.
You have staff to do that.
Doesn’t mean I can’t do it myself.
She’s never understood why I’d want to do it myself, not when there were people paid to do it for me, but that wasn’t the point. Being able to do things is empowering but not for Elise. Whenever she stayed or even stays now, she makes full use of the staff, always polite, grateful, but she’d never help.
She isn’t the help. She’s practicing the role of a future queen.
The stables are quiet, most of the horses out in the fields. I can hear a few people lingering around, those that are horse-hearted and want to avoid people, those hiding from what awaits them.
I hear voices, familiar ones. A lilt from the Hebrides, soft tones and the memory of grey light. I remember the smell, the musky air of wood on an autumn day and my heart races. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen: I would linger for a look from him, my heart would beat for him to pull my hair again.
“I’m glad you’re back.” Leonard’s voice was gruff.
