Page 8 of Slippers and Thorns
Ella refrained from rolling her eyes again. Men could be so dense.
They dropped into silence, the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves and the jingle of tack competing with the rumble of wagon wheels. She wouldn’t call it a companionable silence, but it wasn’t quite awkward, either. Sneaking a glance at her husband, she could see the slight tension in his shoulders, but his face was relaxed as he scanned their surroundings.
Her own hands gripped the reins a little more tightly than normal, and she could feel her heart thumping along at a quicker pace than it usually did when trotting through a forest. She couldn’t deny that having Michael next to her made her happy, but at the same time, it was uncomfortable.
How could it not be, when he felt like a stranger wearing her husband’s face?
“How about you?” she ventured after a while. “Have you missed Chief?”
“Hmm?” Michael dragged his eyes over to her. “Why would I have missed him?”
Ella frowned at him. “It’s been months since we rode out together.”
“Yes, but I participate in patrols regularly,” he explained, eyebrows scrunched. “Chief and I ride out every few days.”
Of course. He had time to ride; he just didn’t have time to ride with her.
Fixing a polite smile on her face, she nodded, not trusting herself to speak at the moment. She should have realized he was riding without her. Not for fun, but still… the knowledge stung. It was yet another example of how different their lives were: his full to overflowing with useful activities, hers barren.
“Are you all right, Arabella?”
“Fine.” She gave him a tight smile and looked away, but not before she saw him narrow his eyes at her.
The silence between them felt thicker this time, but she tried to ignore it, instead listening to her maid Jackie chattering behind her, punctuated infrequently by Elizabeth’s quiet replies. Part of her longed to drop back and join their light-hearted conversation, but she’d been looking forward to riding next to Michael since he told her about the trip a week earlier. She couldn’t give it up simply because neither of them felt talkative.
After a few minutes, Michael cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the far side of the road. “Returning to the topic of riding and propriety…”
“What have I done now?” Ella sighed.
“Nothing,” he hurried to assure her. “It’s just…I know you’re enjoying the ride this time, and I know you prefer it to riding in the carriage.” He waved an arm around at their entourage. “And it’s not a problem out here with the servants and guards. But when we approach the inn, and especially when we reach Himmelsburg…” Michael grimaced as he finally glanced towards her. “You’ll need to switch to the carriage like usual.”
“What? Why?” Ella exclaimed in frustration. “Because princesses don’t ride horses?”
“Princesses ride horses, but they travel in state in carriages,” he clarified.
“Will you ride in the carriage with me this time?” she asked as politely as she could.
He winced. “I would, but—”
“Princes don’t travel in carriages, they ride,” Ella finished coldly. Michael reluctantly nodded.
“Ella,” he began.
“Don’t,” she fumed. Taking a breath to try and calm herself, she said as evenly as she could, “You’d think, as a princess, I might be able to do as I wished at least some of the time.” As she urged her horse forward, away from Michael, she added under her breath, “Sometimes, I think I had more freedom as a servant. It was hard work, but at least I could have had the freedom to choose if I had worked up the courage to leave!”
CHAPTER 4
Michael
E
ven though he felt like he’d been kicked in the gut, Michael kept his expression smooth, pretending he hadn’t heard the words she hadn’t meant for him.
She wanted to leave.
On some level, he was vaguely aware that Arabella wasn’t as happy as he’d meant for her to be. When they were first married, life was blissful for him and – he thought – for her, as well. He knew that for some reason she had grown less happy, but he had had no idea she wasunhappy.
But she must be, if she wanted to leave.
