“It already feels like home,” she whispers.
I rumple my hair back and forth as I smile at her. What a crazy day.The next one is even crazier.
Aubrey and I have had one mouthful of coffee between us when the phone starts ringing. I lift it from its cradle, still groggy with sleep. “Uh, Cassian speaking. I mean, Bellerose Stables. Can I help you?”
An excitable older woman’s voice explains that she was at Archduke Devrim’s wedding last night, and the King spoke to her personally about my stables and how they were the best stables in Paravel, and she hopes she’s not too late, but she has two daughters who are dying to learn dressage and can I teach them everything, buy them horses and stable them too?
I blink hard, trying to catch up to what she’s saying. My brain doesn’t work well this early in the morning. “Uh…”
“You do offer a full service, don’t you?” the woman asks anxiously. “We know nothing about horses. My husband and I were factory workers before the revolution, but we were at both dressage competitions and couldn’t take our eyes off Lady Aubrey. Congratulations, by the way. Simply wonderful that you’re going to be married.” She adds in a delighted whisper, “The Archduke is scandalized, I’m sure, but what a fine pair you and Lady Aubrey make. Such a handsome couple. Simply adore you.”
“Sure, Lady, uh…?”
“Lady Swanson. My daughters are Arabella and Cecelia. They’re ten and thirteen years old.”
I get her contact details and say that someone will call her back later today. I barely finish scribbling down the note when the phone rings again.
And then again. King Anson must have talked to the whole damn Court about us last night.
I head out to the stables brandishing a handful of sticky notes with the names of just about every First Family in Paravel written on them. Aubrey’s been home and back to fetch her riding clothes and is dressed in jodhpurs. I explain what the notes are, and Aubrey takes them from me with a delighted squeal and starts going through them.
“This is wonderful. If even a third of these people follow through and actually stable their horses here, we’re saved, aren’t we? The stables will be all right?”
Aubrey saying we is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. “Yeah, I think we might be. I never did any customer service or whatever it’s called, though. Varga’s people just brought their horses here, and I billed the Party.”
“I can do that. I know these people, and I can talk to them about dressage and the horses they need. We’re going to need dressage instructors. I’ll call my old school and put the word out.”
I take the notes back from her and plant a kiss on her lips. “Go and have your ride. This afternoon, we’ll sort all this lot out. I’m going to call Charlotte and rehire her.”
Aubrey heads into the stables, and I go back into the house, my heart growing lighter with every step. I’ve been feeling like shit ever since I had to let Charlotte go. She’s one of the best riding instructors in Paravel; I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to work with children instead of People’s Republic Party members.
It’s mid-morning, and I’m cleaning cobwebs and damp straw out of stalls that haven’t been used for months, when I hear a car pull into the yard. I head out, anticipating a customer, and see a man wearing a suit and a sour expression.
Jakob Rasmussen.
I don’t even try to hide my irritation as I throw my fork aside. “Oh, what the fuck do you want?”
He glares at me, the stables, the house, as if enemies of the King are hiding behind every building and bale of straw. “Security check.”
I spread my arms wide. “There are no People’s Republic rebels hiding in the horse stalls. There’s no one here but me and my housekeeper, and Aubrey’s out somewhere having her ride. Now piss off, and stay pissed off forever.”
Rasmussen ignores me and walks around the yard, tapping his sunglasses against his palm. “It’s not that simple, Lungren. Now that the King is giving you a royal charter, these stables are going to be filled with members of the First Families. I need to be sure they’re safe here.”
“It’s Bellerose, you thick-headed asshole,” I growl.
“I’ll always be watching. Put one foot wrong, Lungren, cross me or the King or hurt that woman, and I’ll have you in prison so fast your balls will rattle.”
“Put one foot wrong, Bellerose. It’s Bellerose, it always has been and it always will be.”
He slips his sunglasses back on. “See that it is.”
This fucking guy. How can a reasonable man like King Anson have put a dickhead like this in charge of security? I’d rather deal with a hundred Archduke Levanters than one Jakob Rasmussen. “See that you take care of Paravel instead of starting personal vendettas. You’re just dying to stir up trouble, you bloodthirsty bastard.”