Robin forced another smile, though the weight on her chest was still heavy. “I won’t be missing turnip root mash, that’s for sure.”
Lind grimaced. “Neither will I. Ugh.” She scrunched her nose, abruptly changing the subject. “Why does Lumpy always smell so foul?”
“It’s Humphrey.” Robin sighed. Personally, she found the warm, earthy aroma rather comforting. She preferred Humphrey’s mild temperament, steady plodding, and low profile. Donkeys were less expensive to care for than horses and worked twice as hard, so her father had sold their best horses some years ago when early frosts were decimating their crops. It was one of many small sacrifices he’d made for his people.
“I do hope the crown prince isn’t there to welcome us immediately. I imagine if he saw you riding in on a donkey, he would never even consider a betrothal with you!” Lind giggled.
Robin inhaled, turning toward her maid. “I’m the king’s ward, Lind, nothing more.” She kept her tone both firm and gentle.
“Ah, my lady, I was only teasing,” Lind replied. “You know what they’ve always said since your fathers were such close friends. Imagine how happy Lockwood would be if one of their own was on the throne.”
Robin shook her head. As much as she appreciated Lind’s cheerful presence, she would prefer to live with her parents in their poor forested holding than marry the crown prince.
The two men traveling as her escort pulled their mounts to a stop up ahead near a stream.
Robin gratefully reined Humphrey in as well. Her whole body was stiff from riding all day and despite Humphrey’s short height, she did not relish the thought of having to remount him if she dismounted.
Lind had slid off her mount the second they stopped moving.
“Could you refill my flask?” Robin asked her maidservant.
“Oh, Robin,” Lind sighed, sinking into the frosted grass at the side of the road. “I don’t think my legs will be the same again.”
Robin had spent many days traveling beside her father to visit their rural tenants, and she was more accustomed to the saddle than her maidservant. “I’ll get it then,” she said, sliding off Humphrey. “Does yours need to be refilled?”
“You are too kind, my lady,” Lind responded, handing over her own flask.
When she remounted Humphrey some moments later, Robin groaned silently. Surely King Frederich would hardly let his ward out of the castle, much less ride through the forests upon a donkey.
“My lady,” Lind said as they continued down the worn dirt road, “I’ve been trying to cheer you up all day, and I know you are nervous that the palace life won’t suit you. I’m sure it will when you give it the chance, but, in the meanwhile, I just might have an idea.”
Robin turned toward her.
“What if ...” Lind lowered her voice conspiratorially, pressing her mount even closer until the poor donkeys were nearly tripping over each other. “What if we led them to believe that I am Lady Robin Lockwood?”
Robin froze, unsure what her maid was implying. “What are you saying?”
Lind exhaled quickly. “I’m saying ...” Her voice had risen in exasperation.
“Hush!” Robin warned, glancing ahead at their escorts. “Keep your voice down.”
“If you pretend to be me,” the maid continued, bringing her voice back to a whisper, “you could enjoy some freedom in Iseldis before locking yourself into this new life.”
“That’s impossible.” Robin immediately shook her head. “How would that even work? I’ve never been a lady’s maid before, and we could not keep up such a deception indefinitely. How would we switch back? What would the king do?”
Despite her resistance, Robin felt a small flicker of hope in her lonely heart. What if she could be free for just a little while longer? Free to do whatever she liked, just as she had always done.
“I would cover for you, of course,” Lind responded to the first of her questions. “You’ve always been so kind to me. Once you feel comfortable with the royal family and have had a chance to explore the city freely, we could explain everything. Call it a safety measure that your mother requested on her deathbed to ensure you were treated properly, and not shunned or forgotten.”
Robin slowly nodded, her mind suddenly filled with all the ways in which this tantalizing dream could become a possibility. “But ... but your hair?”
As was most common in Iseldis, Lind’s thick hair was a glistening raven black.
“I was presented to the king and queen when I was a child,” Robin continued. “My father said they continually marveled over my golden hair. If they remember anything about me, it would be that.”
Lind shrugged. “I’ll say I dyed it so as not to outshine Princess Meena.” She looked at Robin’s fair locks. “And we’d better coat yours with coal dust so you do not stand out.”
Robin pinched her lips. She had not yet consented to this wild plan, but she let her maid’s words lie uncontested.
