Chapter 1
Robin unstopped her flask, shaking the final splash of water into her mouth. She would need to refill at their next stop.
“I hate donkeys,” Lind muttered behind her for the seventeenth time.
Robin did not respond to her lady’s maid. Instead, she leaned forward, patting the thick neck of her stocky mount. “She does not mean that,” Robin whispered to the plodding animal.
The donkey shook its head happily in response to Robin’s soothing touch. Humphrey might not have the elegant features of a horse, but he did have the sweetest disposition of any animal—or person—Robin had ever encountered.
“Just imagine...” Lind’s tone instantly switched from complaining to excited. “You get to spend Silverfest at the palace of Iseldis! Surely the venison pies they serve to the king himself will be bursting!”
“Mhhh,” Robin replied, her tongue sticking to the top of her mouth. Not even the thought of a savory meat pie could lift her spirits. She swallowed drily, willing away the tears that nipped at her eyelids.
“Will you save me some?” Lind asked, pressing her mount closer to Robin’s.
“What?” Robin blinked, forcing a quick smile.
“Will you save me something from the feast?” Lind asked again.
“Have I ever failed you?” Robin teased, this time with a genuine smile. “But if the king can afford the kind of feast you’ve been describing for the last twelve miles, surely he’ll also be providing something sumptuous for the palace staff?”
Lind’s eyes clouded over as her mount slowed, falling behind. “Perhaps. But I do not know that every lord is as generous as your dear father was, my lady.”
Robin’s smile faded. Her parents had been exceptional in most ways before a sudden sickness claimed them both. At fourteen years of age and with no other relatives, Robin had found herself quite alone in the world.
“You are ever so lucky, my lady,” Lind continued, “to be the ward of King Frederich himself. I’m sure many others would kill to be in such a position.”
Her maid was only trying to cheer her, but lucky was not the word Robin would have chosen. She was lucky to have spent her childhood roaming Lockwood forest with her herbalist mother. She was lucky to have had a father who allowed—and even encouraged—her to ride and hunt, to learn swordplay and archery. Robin twitched her nose as it suddenly burned.
“Oh, Robin.” Lind dug her heels into the side of her lagging donkey, urging it forward. “I did not mean to make you sad again. Things are changing for the better now. Think of all the new velvet gowns and furnishings and delicious foods you’ll get to have! Your father did his best, but you won’t have to worry about harvestreign taxes draining the holdings or re-dying old dresses to mark you as a lady instead of a mere farmer’s daughter like me.”
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.
