We share a chuckle. A pair of dimples emerges on his handsome face. This soldier is a totally different person than the one who shouted at me fifteen minutes ago. He’s relaxed and is starting to let his sarcastic personality shinethrough. He flips the thigh-high boot upside down and secures the fastenings on the spur.
“Those look about as fun to walk in as a pair of pointe shoes.”
“And those would be . . .?”
“A ballerina’s toe shoes.” Unconsciously, I rise up onto my own toes and bourrée in place. “They’re the world’s stiffest pair of footwear until you break them in.”
“I knew that,” he says under his breath. “They cause bad blisters.”
I stop and grimace, remembering how the chafing of my pointe shoes used to rub the sensitive skin of my toes, heels, and bunions raw, no matter what I did. “The worst kind.”
He glances up at me, then back to the boot. “Then I guess they are like pointed shoes.”
“Pointe shoes,” I gently correct him.
“Pointe shoes,” he repeats. “Were you a ballerina growing up?” He slips the boot back on and takes the sword and helmet from my hands.
My stomach muscles clench. “Something like that.”
I’m saved from having to share more when I hear the heavy footfalls of someone approaching. The soldier stiffens and all his facial muscles tense.
“Trooper Baker, what are you doing in here?” a stout man with a neat mustache says in surprise. His helmet is tucked under his arm.
So the soldier’s name is Trooper Baker. I file that away for later.
“Corporal Lee.” He salutes, then stands at ease. “There was an incident in the courtyard.”
“Two in one day.” The Corporal sighs and shakes his head. “I’ll wager that’s why we have a civilian in here?”
He nods. “Yes, sir.”
I awkwardly lift my hand. “Hi, I’m Minerva.”
“Corporal Lee.” He nods to me, but doesn’t move to shake my hand. I play it off and slip my hand behind my head, running it down my ponytail.
“All right, Baker, give me the Spark Notes version.”
“The civil—Minerva—found a spare piece of my kit. While she was trying to return it to me, she was caught off guard by a pickpocket. The MOD officers went to find a Met officer so she can file a report. With the dense crowds today, we posed too much of a security risk to wait outside. So here we are.”
Corporal Lee raises an eyebrow. “Another spur?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m going to glue that bloody thing to your boot.”
“Yes, sir.” To Trooper Baker’s credit, he doesn’t flinch.
“Wait with Ms. Minerva until the MOD team returns. We’re due for a guard change in five minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
Corporal Lee slides his helmet onto his head just as a few soldiers in camo and few in blue cloaks materialize in the stable area.
“Let’s stand over there. You can watch how the horses are prepped for the boxes,” Ian says.
“Sure,” I squeak.
I love horses, but the truth is, in person, they scare me. They’re intelligent, huge, and can read a human better than another human can.
