Page 56 of Waking Roslyn

The fact that she’d decided to call me Rosie made me smile.

“Well,” John said, casting his eyes around the space that was now occupied by only him and me. “Perhaps that’s enough for the day.”

“Yes, thank you.” I stepped out of the stall, suddenly needing a bit more distance. I pulled straw from my hair and dress. As I did so, the horse in the stall across from me stuck his head out over the gate, so I wandered over and gave him an obliging pat on the nose. “And what’s your name?” I asked.

“Titan,” John answered as he came up beside me. “He’s my favorite mount.”

The way he phrased it made it sound like he was used to riding horses, which surprised me. A groom would be expected to know how to ride, but a groundskeeper? “Do you ride?” I asked with a curious tilt of my head.

He nodded. “These three horses have lived here for as long as I’ve been here. And since the past seven years have left this house mostly empty aside from us, many of us took the opportunity to learn.”

“The Rockwells just left them here?”

He shrugged. “They knew they’d be taken care of. Harlow is a dedicated stable master, and the grooms are skilled and love the horses.”

“And if a few other servants learn to ride, what’s the harm?”

He grinned. “Exactly. It’s not as if they wanted to spend all of their time cooped up in only a stall and a small paddock.” He spoke with such easy surety.

“Do they long for adventure?” I teased.

“I’m not sure they’ve longed for it, but a couple of them have stumbled into adventure with the rest of us.”

My curiosity was piqued. “What kind of adventure?”

“The kind where we had to chase down a band of peddlers to get Emeline back.”

“What?” I asked, utterly astonished.

He just smiled in a way that spoke of understanding and experience. Experience that I didn’t comprehend. “There’s very good reason that I’m helping you train, Rose. I know the difference it can make. Emeline and Miri—they’ve both been in situations that could have left them…damaged beyond repair, but because they knew how to protect themselves, they’re still here. And they’re still happy.” We were both lazily stroking the horse and our fingers brushed against each other, but neither of us pulled away. “I want that for you.”

I swallowed, touched both by the sentiment of his words and the look of true caring in his eyes. “Thank you.” I gave a little shrug. “I am trying.”

“I know you are, and I admire you for it. You’re doing something incredibly brave in the face of terrifying opposition.”

I’d needed to hear that. One of the consequences of not being around my parents was that they didn’t see when I faltered. The thing I knew for certain about my parents was that they wanted me to be hidden, out of the way, and safe. But my parents weren’t here to hold me when the smallness of my life started to feel stifling. They couldn’t comfort me when I was weak and crying. Lisette was there for me, but John’s words filled up a space inside me that had been empty for a long time.

13

Roslyn

The Murrwood market was a delight. It reminded me of my time with Lisette before she’d met and married Edmund. We’d taken regular outings to the market near her home, as well as visiting regularly with her friends and the other townspeople, but once we’d moved to the palace at Winhaven, all such menial tasks had been delegated to servants and social visits became political maneuvering.

“How much for this?” Lisette asked as she fingered a delicate silk shawl.

“Three coppers, my lady,” replied the woman behind the stand, who looked half-elated, half-panicked to have Lisette browsing her stall.

“A fair price, indeed. I’ll take it.” She pulled the coins from the pouch at her waist and handed them to the woman before gesturing to the guard who had accompanied us. He came forward and took the scarf, tucking it away in a satchel that hung from his shoulder. Lisette had a growing collection in that satchel. I didn’t know if she truly wanted all the things that she had chosen or if she was simply trying to leave the market vendors with a favorable impression of her and, by extension, her husband and his family. I suspected it was a mixture of both.

As we continued on, there was a commotion up ahead. “What’s that about?” I wondered aloud as laughter and excited voices reached our ears.

“Let’s find out,” Lisette said and led us in that direction.

It wasn’t long before I spotted a familiar figure. I believed it was Falstone, the man who had trained John and the others. He was making his way through the crowd, trailing after a woman who was clearly highborn. Her clothing was fine and brightly colored. She had golden hair, half of which was braided intricately around her head while the other half fell in gentle waves down her back. Her smile was full and lit her eyes.

“That must be Princess Marilee,” I commented, positive that I was right.

“Why do you say that?”