The week passed slowly.

I'd been in the castle nearly two months now, two months without seeing my mother, without sleeping in my own bed. Two months of on-and-off nausea and tremors in my hands whenever I thought about the things I'd seen. The things I'd done.

I made better money working for Amadi than Missus Mack, though I wasn't sure how well it compensated for my time. I was on my feet all day, saddling the horses, leading them to the pasture and back, washing the white ones. I preferred cleaning out the stalls to interacting with anyone.

Occasionally, the King did come to the stables, never by himself, always surrounded by the laughter of men who knew how lucky they were to be his selected companions of the day.

I hid in the tack room each time. Pretended to be busy. Ran my fingers over a saddle like I was going to do something with it.

What could I have possibly said?

I'm sorry.

Please still be my friend.

Please.

Countless times, I'd run over the scene in my head. What would have happened if I'd stayed? The Duke's daughter would have been confused, I would have been embarrassed, and Philip...

He's my friend, he had said. I had been his friend.

Heavy boots thudded in the stable, just on the other side of the wall. I pressed my back to the wood and slid down until my knees were to my chest and I sat, a small crumpled thing, on the ground.

Amadi appeared in the doorway. "Oi," he snapped. "What you sat about for? Get up and prepare the horses."

Another stable groom shrugged past him into the tack room and grabbed a leather bridle from the rack.

I stayed silent, shoulders quivering, and shook my head.

Amadi took a deep breath, as if to resist strangling me. "One more strike and you're fired," he gritted, then disappeared through the door.

I ran a hand down my face. I couldn't afford to get fired. Literally. I'd been keeping the wages I did make carefully guarded inside my vest. One of these days, when I was a good enough rider, I'd take Brownie-Paulo out to the farm and give my coins to my mother.

She was one of the few things that kept me going.

Just the thought of seeing her again, hugging her, telling her I was alright.

Two stable grooms bustled into the room. "The finest horses," one said. "The French are here."

French? My head perked up. Would Philip take the Duke's daughter riding? No - that was likely improper. Perhaps it was the Duke himself.

I stood, my limbs weary, and followed the others outside. The girl, Henriette, was there, her blonde hair a cluster of curls atop her head. She wore a matching jacket and skirt, both an offending canary yellow, and tall boots that securely covered any glimpse of skin that hoped to be shown.

One of the stable grooms, a stocky boy with hardened square shoulders, barreled toward me. "I've it, ma'am," he shouted to her, and thrust me aside so forcefully I slammed into the first stall door to my right.

The wood crushed into my middle, and before I knew it, I had doubled over and flipped headfirst into the hay.

As I lay dazed, I heard the stable groom approach her. "Afternoon, my lady," he said, his voice high with nervous excitement. "Do you wish to take this beautiful mare out?"

I winced and closed my eyes as a sharp pain racked my brain. I could stay down here for a while, I decided. It wasn't even my fault I wasn't working. Amadi would have to understand that, wouldn't he?

The sound of someone clearing their throat made me look up.

My eyes locked with icy blue ones, a solid gaze cascading down upon me. I recognized the scruffy blonde immediately. The Marquis.

"You," he said.

"Me," I said. I didn't want to move. My head hurt from the fall and my ribs ached where I'd gotten slammed against the door.

"I know you," he said, a tang of malice distinct in his accent. "Que faites-vous ici?"

"Huh?"

"What are you doing here?" he repeated, slowly like I was an imbecile.

Damnit. The Lord Chamberlain had asked me the same question. At least being a stable groom was something the others could corroborate. For now, anyway.

I sat up. "I fell," I said. "Can I help you?"

His eyes narrowed and he tossed a glance to his left, as if waiting for someone else's reaction. "You are... a stable boy?"

"Yeah. You want a horse?"

He tilted his head up in a nod and stood back.

With a sore groan, I clambered to my feet, leaning on the stall door for support. There were pieces of hay in my hair and on my clothes. I hoped I would come across in a stupid but endearing sort of way, like a three-legged goat that fell down all the time.

The Marquis scowled. Apparently, he did not like three-legged goats.

I swatted some of the hay off my shirt and opened the stall door. "What horse?"

"I saw you. At the luncheon. You were there."

I let out a light chuckle. "You must have me mistaken. Perhaps one of my brothers?"

"You nearly spilled the wine on me," he spat.

We stood only a few feet apart now, him in a black coat with a frilly white jabot and tight riding breeches. A little too tight. In his right hand, he held a thick riding crop.

"Sorry." I smiled. "I'll admit I was a bit distracted."

"Get me a horse," he ordered, tapping the crop against his knee.

The other grooms ignored us, too busy fighting over the girl. They swarmed her like flies to honey, wrestling to be the one to saddle her mare.

"That one." The Marquis stood before a tall black stallion with a white mark like a diamond upon his forehead.

"That's Hero. I wouldn't go near him." During the last few weeks in the stable, I'd learned which horses were the most popular, which were the gentlest, the slowest, the stupidest. Hero was a rowdy horse, prone to rearing up on his hind legs and swiping his hooves whenever approached.

"Saddle it."

I really didn't feel like getting a hoof to the face. "Seems a little big for you, aye Leo?" I commented, leaning back comfortably on the stall door. Even with his heels he had to tilt his head up to look at me.

"Do not call me Leo," he snapped.

I resisted the urge to reply, Alright, Leo. The memory of Geoff's scars, decorating his back like crossed wires, crept into my mind and I trembled. Provoking him - any of these people - was a bad idea.

But there was a part of me, a looming, persistent part, that knew ever since the day we killed those guards, I'd begun to enjoy danger.

And it took every ounce of strength I possessed to push that part down.

"Fine," I said. "I'll be right back."

He gave a huff of impatience while I retrieved the equipment - a saddle, girth, stirrups, bridle and reins. "I'm waiting," he said, spinning the riding crop in his hand.

The girl's mare was already saddled. Two grooms reached for her hand in unison to help her mount.

I slung the saddle over the door of Hero's stall and unlatched the handle. "Alright, easy," I muttered under my breath, more to myself than the stallion. He shied away nervously as I looped the reins over his head. I led the horse out of his stall and stood to the left to fit the bit inside his mouth.

Hero wrenched his head up, tearing the bridle from me.

"Down!" Leo thrashed his crop across the horse's face.

"Don't-"

Hero lept away in a flash of movement and slammed his powerful hind legs into the Marquis' side, flinging him into the air as if he were no heavier than a feather. The boy crashed head-first into the wooden wall and rolled to the ground, a motionless clump in the hay.

My first thought was, Well, I'm fucked.

The Duke's daughter screamed.

One of the grooms tore Hero's reins from my hand. "Idiot," he snarled, his breath hot on my ear.

"Brother!" The girl's skirt caught in the stirrup as she struggled to dismount her horse.

The boy who had pushed me flung his arms about her. "My lady, be careful..."

"Get off!" she shouted. He let go, crestfallen, and watched her dive to the ground beside the Marquis, her long skirt billowing out like a parachute. "Brother, brother, look at me-" Her gloved fingers scrambled to brush the hay from his face as he sat up.

A thick line of blood coursed from his nose down his lips. His eyes were dazed and unfocused. They scanned the room and settled on me, suddenly burning with rage. "Connard," he snarled, his mouth full of blood.

My breath hitched. The sight had a dizzying effect on me, freezing me as if I'd gazed upon the snakes of Medusa. He leaned over and spat a bloody tooth onto the ground.

Don't think about it.

Images flashed in my head. The spray as Geoff cut the guard's throat, coating my face. The heaving wound in the butcher's side. My fingers, red and dripping as I raised them to my lips.

Stop it stop it stop it.

Nausea spiraled in my stomach and climbed my throat.

I gripped a tattered cloth draped over a stall door and sank to the ground beside them. Henriette held her brother's head to her chest and smoothed his hair, murmuring in French.

She turned to face me as I neared, her blue eyes huge and round. "Will he be alright?"

I couldn't answer, my chest too tight and my heartbeat on my tongue. I slid a hand under the Marquis' head, as if he were a baby, and pressed the cloth to his gasping lips. "Bite," I whispered.

He mumbled in protest, then accepted it and clamped his remaining teeth down to staunch the blood flow.

I thumbed the blood from his nose off his upper lip and scrubbed my hand on my trousers before I had the chance to really look at it. My own gentleness surprised me, but then again, the whole thing was sort of my fault. The other grooms stood in an awkward semi-circle to watch.

Amadi appeared from the tack room. My heartbeat quickened as the others all turned their heads, a collective breath of fear sucked from the room.

"What happened here?" he demanded, his accusatory glare shifting between the stable grooms.

I gulped, waiting for one of them to blame me.

The Duke's daughter lifted her head boldly. "This beast attacked my brother."

The boy holding Hero's reins nodded. "I saw it all. His Grace struck the horse and it kicked. An accident."

"An accident that could have cost his life," the girl hissed.

Amadi's eyes darkened. Apparently, he did not appreciate being talked down to. "Then it is his own stupidity at fault."

The girl's lips opened, shock and outrage flashing in her gaze. A groom dashed from the main entrance to Amadi's side. "Someone's coming, sir," he said, his tone urgent. "What do we do?"

The stable master did not hesitate. "Get them up," he ordered.

"What?" Henriette shouted. "He is in no condition to-"

"Do as I say!" Amadi barked, giving the boy a shove. Two stable grooms grasped the girl's arms while another assisted me in lifting the Marquis.

"Unhand me!" the girl demanded. "Just what do you think you are doing?"

"Hold them in the tack room until our visitors are gone," Amadi said. Half of us dragged them away while the others buried the spots of blood with fresh hay and backed Hero into his stall. Amadi ran a heavy hand over the top of his head and forced on a smile as a pair of noblemen entered the stable. "Good afternoon, gentlemen."

"I'll have that beast shot," Henriette growled as she was forced down onto a wooden crate. "Don't think I won't."

"He's a King's stallion, my lady," the stocky groom told her. "Only His Majesty himself can order 'im put down."

"It's dangerous!"

"Shhh." He pressed a thick finger to his lips.

The groom holding her upper arm stretched his fingers out and grazed her bosom, a wild look in his eye like he was facing the gates of Heaven. She jerked her body to push him away, but her other arm was held tight by another boy.

The Marquis lay unresponsive, his head pressed to my chest. I felt a little sorry for him, for both of them, but I pushed the thought away. No doubt the first item on their agenda would be having us all jailed or worse the moment they got out of here.

A drop of blood fell onto his jabot, red blooming in white lace.

I shifted forward to adjust his head when he looked up, his eyes finding mine. My breath stilled. He said nothing, only stared up at me before reclosing his eyes and sinking closer to me.

It was a long silence until Amadi reappeared in the doorway.

"I trust those men are unaware you're holding us hostage," Henriette gritted.

He gave a humorless smile. "Blissfully, my lady."

"Perhaps now you might command your hounds to release me."

The groom's fingers slipped from her breast as Amadi cast his dark eyes down, his greedy smile turning to an ashen look of fear.

"Sir-" he started before the stable master hauled him to his feet by his collar and punched him square in the jaw.

The boy's arms flailed and he crashed to the ground, blood showing between his yellow teeth. "Get out," Amadi snarled.

"I didn't-"

"Get out!" he roared. "If I ever so much as see your face here again I'll kill you myself."

The groom scrambled to his feet, face white with terror, and darted out of the tack room.

"Now then," Amadi said, flexing his hand. His tone was calm. "Let us discuss this matter in a more civilized manner, shall we? Or will there be any more unnecessary disturbances?"

The boys backed away from Henriette like kicked dogs.

She kept her eyes on the stable master, the once prominent look of hatred cooling to something more intrigued. "You plan to keep us here until we agree not to report you, yes?" she said. "And if we do not agree?"

Amadi crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Then I suppose we are at a stalemate, my lady."

"Do you not fear that I will promise you my silence, then alert the nearest guard the moment I am free?"

He was quiet for a moment, as if considering. He looked over her carefully, studying the small details many wouldn't notice. The tremble in her lower lip. The impatient twitch of her fingertips. The fierce stoicism in her unwavering gaze.

I watched this look pass between them, suddenly feeling like an intruder in the room. Interrupting their private exchange.

"The French are a proud people, are they not?" he spoke at last. "A nation that claims to live with honor. If you make such a promise, I will trust you to keep your word."

She swallowed. "Shoot the stallion and I will have nothing to report."

"That is unnegotiable."

"It is now," she said.

Amadi faced the stocky groom who had pushed me. "I was told that the stallion's reaction was caused by your brother's aggressive provocations. If that is the case, my animal is free of any guilt."

"Perhaps we should ask the stable hand attending him."

Their eyes swiveled to me.

I looked down at Leo, who was gripping my forearm, dried blood on his fingers, then back up to Amadi and the Duke's daughter. "The Marquis requested Hero - the stallion - who is known to be, eh... finicky. I... I warned him but he-" I paused as Leo's grip on my arm tightened. "He ordered me to saddle the stallion and struck it with his crop as I did so."

"If this beast is a troublemaker," Henriette said, "why keep it in your stable?"

"King's horse," the stocky groom repeated, the same words he had told her earlier. "You'll have to take it up with him."

I shuddered at the idea of having to speak before the King. I imagined all of us - the Marquis, the Duke's daughter, Amadi, all the stable grooms and I, testifying our accounts in a room filled with wigged men and perfume.

Evidently, the girl was not thrilled by this idea either. "That will not be necessary," she said. "I see now my brother was at fault."

Leo made an indignant bleating sound, muffled by the cloth.

The Duke's daughter stood, raising herself tall and pulling tight the trim of her yellow jacket. "I trust we're allowed to leave now, Monsieur?"

His eyes remained cool. "As you will."

She stalked to the doorway and stopped abruptly as he stood still at the entrance. "Excuse me," she said.

After a pause, he shifted to the side and allowed her to pass. Their eyes clung to each other, like two snakes coiling to strike.

I helped the Marquis stand, grimacing as he kept a firm hold on me. "You, uh..." I gestured to the cloth. "Could probably... take that out now."

I cursed the nervous hitch in my voice. He removed the cloth awkwardly and stuffed it in his vest. "Thank you," he muttered.

I stayed silent.

He straightened up, his hands leaving me for the first time since he'd fallen. "We stay here twelve more days," he said. "I suppose I'll be seeing you. Considering you're everywhere."

I gave him a wary smile. "I suppose."