Page 66 of King's Warrior

The lad jumped back, dropping the brush and clutching a hand to his chest. “I’m sorry. You scared me.”

People must come and go from the stables all the time. What had the lad so jumpy? Then again, knowledge of his predecessor’s demise would spook anyone. This stable lad might even have known the last.

“My apologies. I came to check on Princess.”

The lad smiled, bending to scoop the brush from the ground. “She as lovely as ever, aren’t you, my beauty,” he crooned to the preening mule.

Mules preened? Never had Princess more suited her name. Childish laughter had Rufe turning around. His heart caught in his chest.

The uncanny copy of Niam approached in a fur hat and a fur-lined cloak, a tall, imposing man behind him and his own guards. Smaller Uri walked behind him. Niam’s sons. Vihaan trailed behind with Uri, ever-vigilant.

“Greetings, Keth!” Quillan said, addressing the stable lad, sounding strangely formal for a boy of nine. So, the stable lad wasn’t new to the job after all.

Keth grinned. “Good morn, young prince.”

Young prince? Keth couldn’t have seen over sixteen summers himself.

“Hello, Keth.” Uri kept his voice soft, more subdued than his brother’s, and his eyes on the ground. Shy?

“Greetings, Lord Rufe.” Quillan made eye contact. Not a shy bone in this one’s body, apparently. Rufe definitely saw traces of Nera’s strong will in her grandson.

“Greetings to you as well, Prince Quillan.”

Quillan wrinkled his nose. “I’m just Quillan for now.”

An amused smile teased Rufe’s lips. “And when are you not ‘just Quillan?’”

Quillan glanced down at his worn riding clothes, boots noticeably scuffed. “When I’m dressed all fancy and warned not to get dirty or muss my hair.”

The imposing man cleared his throat. “You are always Prince Quillan, and those beneath your station like Lord Rufe should refer to you as such.”

Quillan rolled his eyes. “I get enough ‘prince this’ and ‘prince that’ from you and the guards. Don’t I get to be ‘just Quillan’ sometimes?”

Oh, Rufe liked this boy. So much like his father.

“I call you Quillan,” Uri piped up.

“Because you are of equal station.” The tutor sniffed. What was his name again? Master Wedgeworth?

“I thought it was because he was my brother,” Uri replied, a look of adorable confusion on his face. “Just like Papa isn’t King Niam, ’cause he’s Papa.”

Looking at these two gave Rufe a picture of Niam at their age. “What brings you out here?” he asked, kneeling to put himself at eye level with the boys.

“We’re allowed to ride on nice days when we finish our lessons early.” Quillan puffed out his chest.

“Me too!” his brother said with much less exuberance. Rufe got the feeling the subdued reaction wasn’t because the boy didn’t want to ride, but from a somewhat timid nature.

Rufe asked Wedgeworth in what he hoped was passable Delletinian, “Would it be all right if I tagged along? I'd love to see more of the grounds, and I'm not currently needed.” He had visions of a good scolding for poor grammar.

Master Wedgeworth regarded Rufe thoughtfully, then took in each of the princes.

“Pwease?” asked Uri, smiling with two front teeth missing.

Quillan added, “We can practice our Cormiran with him.”

“All right,” the tutor relented.

Keth brought out two shaggy mountain ponies while several guards disappeared around the back of the stables.

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