Page 12 of The Stablemaster's Heart
Vasily might not be interested in Mother, but if he wanted to dally with one of the lithe young guards that marched around the castle—all handsome in their smart doublets and long, polished boots, short swords at their hips—then Vasily should get whatever he wanted. Even though, in Mother’s opinion, Vasily could do much better than Jeremy, who was a muttonhead.
He wondered again what Vasily’s background was. Mother had noticed that he rarely mentioned his family, and he hoped the poor boy hadn’t been sent away, that his family hadn’t been cruel to him—although he couldn’t see howanyonecould be cruel to Vasily. It would be like kicking a puppy.
Still, Vasily seemed happy with his lot here in Lilleforth working as a groom, even though he’d obviously had a wealthy upbringing. Mother hoped that it had been his choice to exchange wealth for the freedom to explore who he was.
He sighed, standing and stretching his arms over his head just as there was a soft tap on the door. When he opened it, Vasily was standing there, his usual smile tinged with uncertainty. “Hello, Mother.”
The very sight of him had Mother smiling, and he was struck once again with the knowledge that he found Vasily attractive. He ducked his head to hide the blush he could feel climbing his cheeks as he stepped aside to let him in. “Hello, lad. Have you come to walk up for supper with me?”
Vasily swallowed, his hands tugging at the hem of his shirt, his own cheeks blazing. Mother wondered what had him shuffling from foot to foot like he’d stepped in a nest of ants. “I, um. I wondered if I could take you down to Rosie’s for a fish supper? My treat.”
Mother found himself ridiculously pleased at the unexpected invitation, even though he knew it was probably just part of Vasily’s courting practice. A fish supper did sound nice. “That’d be just the thing,” he said, and Vasily’s smile became more genuine.
They walked side by side down the path to the docks, the full moon lighting their way and illuminating the puffs of warm breath that escaped them in tiny clouds. Mother rubbed his hands together before tucking them under his armpits to chase away the chill. “It’s a brisk one,” he said, eyeing up Vasily, who wasn’t even wearing a coat. “Aren’t you freezing?”
Vasily smiled widely. “I like the cold. And anyway, this isn’trealcold. At home, there’s a layer of ice on the water troughs in the morning, more often than not.”
Mother shuddered. “Sounds awful. I’m not much for the cold.”
“Oh, Koroslova’s not the place for you, then.” Vasily nodded out at the horizon where glimpses of the ocean were just coming into view as they walked down the hill, the tops of the waves glistening under the night sky. “I miss the cold sometimes, but I do love this. All that water, as far as the eye can see. It makes me wish I could swim, but I never learned. It was far too cold. Besides, my father deemed it unseemly to be seen flailing around half-undressed in a pond.”
“I’m the opposite. Spent my childhood messing about in boats. My dad was a fisherman.” He gestured towards the ocean. “If you ever wanted to flail around half-undressed with someone, I’m your man.”
He realised how that sounded just as Vasily let out a snort of laughter.
“Swimming! I meant swimming lessons!” he said hastily.
“Oh, I know,” Vasily said, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight as he grinned, “and I’ll keep your offer in mind.”
“Well, mind you do,” Mother said as they approached Rosie’s. “When you live near the water, it makes sense to be able to keep yourself afloat.”
They settled themselves at a table inside, out of the cold, and Rosie took their orders and brought them both a pint of pale ale. The place was busy as always, with two serving girls bustling between the tables without stopping. Mother nodded to one of the fishermen placing his order, and the man dipped his head in response.
Vasily looked around at the assortment of customers, most of them dock workers or fisherfolk, and looked at Mother, tilting his head. “If you don’t mind me asking, if your father was a fisherman, why aren’t you? How did you end up as a groom?”
Mother felt the familiar ache of loss in his chest, the one that never quite left no matter how much time had passed. He took a pull of ale to buy himself a moment as he considered how to reply. Finally, staring at the tabletop, he said, “I had an older brother. Drowned at twelve.” His voice caught.
Vasily’s sharp gasp was loud enough that it cut through the chatter of the café. “Oh gods. I’m so—”
“It happens,” Mother said gruffly. “Perils of the sea and all that.” He took another drink from his pint to ground himself, swallowing around the lump in his throat. It had been years and he’d only been a boy, but sometimes late at night, the sound of his mother sobbing at night still echoed in his mind. “My mum, she made me promise that I’d never work on the boats, and I wasn’t going to say no to her, was I? I’d done some sweeping at the stables in town and found I was a dab hand with horses. So I went up to the castle once I was of age, got apprenticed as a groom, and I’ve never left.”
He raised his head from the table to find Vasily staring at him, a look of horror in his face and his eyes wet. “That’s—that’s awful,” he whispered. “I have three brothers, and I can’t imagine losing one of them.”
Mother was struck by an unfamiliar urge to reach across the table, run his thumb over Vasily’s lashes, and gather the moisture clinging there. Instead, he said, “It was a long time ago, lad.”
Vasily swallowed and scrubbed a hand across his eyes. “Of course. I’m sorry I asked.”
“You weren’t to know. And I could have told you to mind your beeswax.” Mother did reach out then, patting Vasily’s other hand where it rested on the table. “You’re a good lad for caring.”
“I’m soft, you mean,” Vasily said with a watery smile.
“Nothing wrong with having a tender heart,” Mother countered.
Vasily shrugged. “My father always said it was a sign of weakness. Maybe he’s right.”
“No, your father’s a fool,” Mother said, stung on Vasily’s behalf. “It’s not weak to have compassion. Just look at Mattias, the ex-chancellor. Prince Consort of Evergreen now, and before that he helped His Majesty run Lilleforth for years. He’s smart as a whip, but that didn’t stop him having a soft spot for helping people out of a difficult situation. I can’t tell you how many people at the castle are grateful to him for hiring them, and every last one of them is bloody good at their jobs.” His mouth quirked up in a smile. “He’s the one who hired Felix, and that certainly worked out well for all concerned.”
Vasily sat up straighter. “And he helped when my mother wrote to him, telling him I wanted to travel.”
