“No!” she cried in frustration as Humphrey realized her predicament and came back to dip his face in the trough once again.
She tugged it sharply, surprising him enough that he lifted his head and stopped eating. In his typical stoic nature, he merely stared at her through big sorrowful eyes.
“Do you need help with something?” a young male voice asked from behind her.
“Help me get this trough out of here,” Robin replied, assuming it was a stable hand.
The young man entered the stall, squeezing behind her and nudging Humphrey away so he could get to the far end of the trough.
In typical donkey fashion, Humphrey refused to move. Not deterred, the young man simply walked all the way around him.
“Thanks a lot,” Robin muttered sarcastically to her stubborn animal.
“Oh, you are quite welcome,” the stable hand replied good-naturedly. “I couldn’t walk by when someone needed help.” He twisted around on the other side of the stall, facing her as he reached down to get a firm grip on the trough.
Robin’s throat suddenly closed up.
It was Crown Prince Ian.
“No, I didn’t mean... I was talking to Humphrey... He can be...” She inhaled to regain her dignity. “Thank you,” she ended simply, preferring not to grovel at his feet in embarrassment.
“Humphrey, eh?” Ian asked, lifting his side of the trough.
“He’s generally more accommodating. At least when he chooses to be.” Robin managed to lift her end of the trough with ease now that she was sharing the weight with someone.
“What has he done to be denied his morning oats?” Ian inquired as she backed out of the stall, maneuvering their burden around the swinging gate.
“Has no one here ever had a donkey?” she asked, her previous embarrassment forgotten in her incredulity.
“No.” Ian’s response was simple and direct. “The farmers outside the city utilize them, of course, but we have no need of a pack animals at the castle itself.”
“They are so much more than pack animals!” Robin cried. “They really are the sweetest creatures, and far smarter than most horses.”
“Is that so?” Ian looked back over his shoulder at the still-glaring Humphrey.
“I promise he is usually far more agreeable,” Robin repeated, noting his disbelief. “I promise. Especially when he’s had a proper breakfast of straw. Donkeys get quite sick on grains, especially oats.”
“Ah.” Ian dropped his end of the trough in the main pathway of the stable, finally understanding their task.
Robin dropped her end, stretching her back as she took a deep breath. “That was heavy.” She glanced over at Ian.
He looked far less ridiculous in regular clothing than he had three days prior in his padded armor. His nose was slightly red from the cold, but his skin was clear, and his inky black hair was combed tidily away from his face. He looked to be about her age, his cheeks bearing the lightest bit of stubble. Perhaps he was too young for a proper beard and had just learned how to shave. His eyes were warm and kind—but cautious.
Lind’s previous words about the crown prince being lovely suddenly invaded Robin’s mind, and she hoped the light blush she felt in her cheeks would be misinterpreted as an effect of the chilly air. Lind had not been wrong.
Robin inhaled, trying to calm her beating heart but not wanting to be the first to break eye contact. She felt as though Ian were sizing her up, even though his face betrayed no emotion.
“That was quite the fight the other day,” he finally said.
Robin’s lips curled into a smile. “It was, wasn’t it?”
Then her smile faded.
She’d realized when she’d walked away that she was neither a lady of a holding nor the king’s ward and should not have been so rash in putting the young prince in his place. “I... I hope I did not offend you, Your Highness?”
He smiled in response. “Quite the contrary.” He raised an eyebrow. “I might have even learned something.”
Robin exhaled in relief, smiling at his jest as she walked past him into the stall to check on Humphrey.
