“Brilliant. That’s all I have for you.” Sam and the captain salute one another once more. “Enjoy your visit, Minerva.” She takes her leave.
As soon as she’s out of our sight, Sam’s body sags. The blood drains from his face. “I’m doomed.”
Thirteen
Isit beside Sam on a bale of hay. He stares blankly at the form. His expression reminds me of a kid who has dropped their ice cream on the ground, and is watching the sweet, delicious treat melt into soup. The only sound around us is the horses.
“I don’t think you’re doomed. Your captain seemed nice. She doesn’t appear to be the type of person who would set you up for failure.”
Artem comes to mind, but I push all thoughts of my past aside. This isn’t about me right now. This is about supporting Sam.
“Captain Yates is a brilliant leader. She’s always watching out for us.” He takes a deep breath and scrubs his forehead with his hands. “But the Princess Alice Cup... gah, it’s laughable for me to enter. The type of people who compete were born knowing how to polish and make their uniforms perfectly presentable. I’m going to be the worst turned-out trooper.”
“Do you mind translating for this novice? What’s the big deal about the Princess Alice Cup?”
“The Princess Alice Cup is an annual competition between the Blues and the Life Guards to see who has the best turned-out soldier and horse. Each regiment gets to put forward six challengers, who then compete for eight finalist spots in the Royal Windsor Horse Show. We’re judged by the top brass from other branches of the armed forces. The winner gets bragging rights, five hundred quid, a saddle, and a trip to Canada.”
“What part of it is scaring you?”
He takes a moment to find his words. “The part where it normally takes a participant eight to ten weeks to prep for it and the contest is in four weeks. I’m going to have to start spending every waking hour of my downtime polishing my kit to catch up. I’m slow and not good with detailing all the little bits and bobs on stuff like my horse’s tack. It’s going to be a useless exercise for me. I’ll be knocked out the first round.”
“I don’t believe that.” I place a hand on his knee.
Sam puts a hand over mine. His rough calluses tickle. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but trust me, I know I’m a lost cause. I don’t have the knack for meticulous attention to detail. What I think is decent is usually barely acceptable to the commanding officer. Ialwayshave a problem with stuff like tarnish on my helmet, fingerprints on my cuirass, or excess polish on my boots.”
“Not to play devil’s advocate, but have you ever tried to put in the effort?”
“Of course.” Sam pulls his hand back and stands. “How can you say that?”
I’ve hit a sore spot. He’s frustrated and I get that.
Trying to keep my voice calm, I tell him, “You once admitted to me that you were one of the guys who didn’t like to stay up late polishing things. It sounds to me that ifyou put in just a little more time, even if its ten or fifteen minutes, you could improve on what you’re already doing.”
He stares at the ground. His boot shifts a few stray pieces of hay.
I decide to change tactics. “How badly do you want to become a riding instructor?”
“I’ll do anything to be able to keep working with horses. My time in London is coming to an end. We normally only get two years here. If I don’t become a riding instructor, it means I’ll have to move on to Bulford and the armored side of the regiment. I mean, I’d do it anyway if I were told to. But given the choice, horses win every time.”
“Then you have to do this.”
“I don’t know if there’s a point. I don’t know if I want to put myself through all the emotional and physical stress.” Sam shoves his hands into his pockets. “I can’t compete against the others who’ve already entered.”
“The Sam I know wouldn’t give up without trying.”
“Clearly, you don’t know me well.”
Hearing him say that stings. I’ve seen how he acts around animals. I see how gentle and dedicated he is to them. If he can care for temperamental living beings, he can learn to do the same for his uniform and equipment. He just needs practice. Like his captain said, it’s a literal crash course on habits and skills he needs for the future.
“Maybe not, but I’m trying to. What happened to the man who was so confident around his captain?”
“He’s a coward.”
“I don’t believe that.” I stand. His attitude is starting to grate on me. He‘s not even trying to accept the help that’s been offered to him. He’s being a bratty, selfish child about it. “You know, you’re lucky. Your captainbelieves in you. She’s given you an opportunity to learn and prove to everyone that you are capable of perfect presentation. Not everyone has that chance...” My voice cracks. “For a lot of people, their dreams rest outside of their control. Trust me, I’ve been there.”
I take a few deep breaths. My nerves are on edge. I’m losing a grip on my emotions. I don’t want Sam to have to go through what I did.
“You’re different than me, Minerva, you’re a talented designer.”
