Anil was just leaving her room for the stables the next morning when Myri stepped out of the room next to hers. She was glad to see the healer; she had only been told by the servant who had shown her to her room the day before that Myri's room was near hers. The last time Anil had seen her, Myri had been walking toward the castle, surrounded by soldiers, following the prince as he was carried inside by two other soldiers. That was immediately after Coulta had been dragged away and just before she was escorted to the stables by two more soldiers. Grooms had taken the war horses, but she had been allowed to care for the two ponies from Windwick, much to her relief. The stable master had been quite kind and told her she could return at any time to see the horses, and had given her a room in the stables that first night.
"Good morning," Anil said with a smile.
Myri smiled back. "Good morning. I was about to go see to Wildas. He asked that I bring you with me this morning."
Anil nodded and walked with her. "He's better?"
"Still weak and will be for a few days," Myri explained. "But the poison has been stopped."
When they arrived at the prince's chamber a few minutes later, the guard outside the door nodded to them. "I'll make sure he's awake," the man said before vanishing into the room. He came back a moment later and motioned them inside.
Wildas was sitting in bed, reading a book and wearing a plain shirt. It was the only thing plain in the otherwise massive and colorful room.
"I trust you drank that tea I gave you?" Myri asked as they approached the bed.
Wildas put down his book to hold up an empty cup. "Yes, I did."
Myri set about looking at his eyes and touching his neck and face. Wildas put up with it, though Anil was fairly certain he was scowling.
"I'm not ill," he eventually grumbled.
"As weak as that poison made you, it would be very easy for you to take ill," Myri explained. "I'd rather not be executed for you becoming worse under my care."
Wildas snorted. "You wouldn't be executed unless you intentionally killed me."
"I'd rather not take any chances." She finally let him go. "I'll go make you another tea and let you two talk."
When she was gone, Wildas motioned to the ornate wooden chair near the bed. Anil sat down on the edge, feeling uncomfortable about resting her rear on something that certainly cost more money than she had held at one time. Then she remembered that she hadn't gone riding in the dress she wore, so it couldn't possible soil the furniture. Still, how could someone sit on something so expensive?
"I apologize for not speaking to you before now," Wildas began. "I don't have much energy yet and I had to report to the Second King. And get the situation sorted out with Coulta."
"Is he all right?" she asked, startled by her own concern.
The prince nodded. "His room is near both yours and Myri's, not the dungeon anymore. Have the people at the stables treated you well?"
Anil smiled. "They're all very kind. They let me care for my horses, and even let me help with some of the others. I enjoy it."
Wildas returned her smile. "I'm glad to hear that. We've sent a small group of soldiers to find out what became of Windwick, but it will take a few days. Myri has agreed to remain my healer until then, and Coulta has sworn himself to be my personal protector, so he will be here permanently. I've been told that both the master trainer and master breeder are in need of extra help at the moment, if you would like something to do for a while. Foaling season is just beginning, and it's also time to train the yearlings."
Anil was slightly concerned. "Certainly they don't start riding the horses so young?"
"I don't believe so. From what I've seen, they just get them accustomed to the tack and lightweight armor. They also spend a lot of time swinging swords around them, making loud noises, and butchering animals for our meals in the stable aisles. I don't think they are ridden until they've become accustomed to battle that way. Those that fail that part of training are gelded and sold to be riding or work horses."
Anil was fascinated, though she wasn't sure if she liked the idea of slaughtering animals in the stable aisles. It would be interesting to see how the horses were trained for battle. It would also be fun to see the foals before they grow into the size of war horses.
"I'd love to help," she declared. "Even if I could return to Windwick, I don't want to. Would I be able to work in the stables permanently?"
"I'll make sure you can," the prince answered with a nod. "Do you not have anyone to return to, though?"
She shook her head sadly. "The winter illnesses took my whole family. My father, both my mothers, and my three brothers. All I had left were the horses in the stables."
Wildas looked puzzled. "Varin has always been against any family units existing other than mother and child, and Windwick is one of the villages he controls..."
Anil shrugged. "He never paid much mind to us. Maybe he had too much trouble controlling the people inside Arren to care about the villages."
The prince nodded thoughtfully. "That's possible, I suppose. I'm sorry, though. That you lost your family. I lost one of my mothers to a similar illness three years ago."
"I'm sorry as well, then. And thank you," Anil added, amazed by the prince's sincerity. So many people had been kind to her since she had arrived that she was starting to wonder if she really was surrounded by nobility or just commoners like herself.
Wildas was just finishing his lunch when his door opened. He was expecting the visitor to be Coulta, and was dismayed when he saw his father.
"I'm happy to see that you're well," Grand King Deandre said as he stopped beside the prince's bed.
"I will be."
"I'm glad." Deandre stared down at his son, thumbs hooked through the purely ornamental belt he wore over his blue coat. "Shelton says you wanted to go to Arren just to escape your marriage duties."
Wildas sighed and moved his lunch tray from his lap to the bedside table, putting it down a little harder than he had planned to. "Must you do this? I almost died. Uncle Decus died. Twelve other Guardsmen died. And you turn it into another complaint about me not being married yet!"
Deandre held up a hand. "Easy. I just hadn't realized I was pushing you to make ridiculous choices to avoid your duties. What is it that is making you so opposed to marriage?"
How could he explain this to his father? There was no way Deandre would understand what it was Wildas wanted. He certainly never tried to find out what that was before. But now he was asking. Now he did want to know. Had it really taken Wildas nearly dying for Deandre to care that much?
"I want what you have," Wildas finally answered, his voice more calm than he felt. "I want spouses who actually care. Everyone I meet only wants the prestige of marrying me. None actually want me. I won't just marry people who can't even be friends to me. It doesn't feel right."
Deandre sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. "Wildas, I was lucky to find that. Most of us don't. My father's marriage was arranged, and they all became friends well enough. You can try to find what you're looking for, but I don't have much hope. It's only the harshness of our station in life, Wildas. I don't think you will find lovers who love you."
Despite the gaping hole he felt his father ripping in his very soul, Wildas met his gaze levelly. "I want to try."
"You have until the end of summer," Deandre sighed. "If you do not present three chosen spouses to me by then, I will choose them for you. If you find one or two, I'll choose the others. This will be our final discussion of the topic until then."
Wildas nodded, relieved. "Thank you."
"But I'm not canceling the ball at the end of the month."
Wildas sighed. "Fine."
Anil spent the remainder of the morning grooming her bratty mare, Starlight, and Myri's calm gelding, Lore, and trying to decide if she'd rather help train war horses or help breed them. In the end, she decided that it would be more rewarding to work with the foals to prepare them for training than it would be to frighten yearlings on a daily basis. She knew the conditioning was important, but she just didn't want to be the one to do it.
The stable master in charge of caring for the trained horses was kind enough to show her to the breeding stable, which was situated below the castle grounds. She had noticed upon approaching the city that it was built on a cliff overlooking a large river. The castle was at the highest point, and the city fanned out in front of it, down the slope – though the slope was so slight that it was almost impossible to notice while in the city without studying every building's foundation. A wall circled the castle grounds, though Anil knew no enemy forces could scale the cliff. She assumed the wall was mostly to keep people in rather than out. She cringed at the thought of people accidentally falling to the river below.
A gate broke the expanse of the wall, large enough for two horses to walk abreast. She had never seen it open in the short time she had been in Ryal, but a guard swung it open for her and the stable master, Hatlim. A cobbled road led down to a flat expanse of land halfway between the castle and the river. She noticed another trail that went straight across the otherwise flat cliff face to a much smaller outcropping.
"What's that?" she asked, noticing a statute against the dark stone.
"Ardan's Rest," Hatlim answered, then shook his head. "I can't do that legend justice. You'll have to ask a royal scholar. Or a sorcerer. Either would explain better than I could."
Anil nodded and hoped she would remember to find out. Maybe Wildas could tell her, if she was able to speak to him again. Part of her wondered if giving her a position in the stables was his last act of thanks, or if they were somehow friends.
Friends with the Crown Prince? That was a ridiculous thought.
When they reached the flat area below the castle, Anil was amazed by the size of the stable there. It was large enough to hold a hundred horses, and there was pasture land beside it where two mares grazed on the scant spring grass while their foals nursed. Who knew that such a huge piece of land could be cut from the face of a cliff.
"Master Zairn!" Hatlim called into the barn.
A middle-aged man in dirty clothes stepped out to greet them a few moments later. When he spotted Hatlim he looked surprised. "You don't come down here much, Master Hatlim."
Hatlim motioned to Anil. "I've brought you the assistant you've been looking for. She helped bring the prince home, and she's been helping around the stable a bit. Prince Wildas told her she's welcome to a job if she wants one."
Zairn attempted to wipe his dirty hand off on his shirt before holding it out to Anil with a smile. "I'd love the help. You know horses?"
Anil shook his hand and nodded. "I took over the stables in Windwick when the previous owner took sick over the winter. I'd been working for him since I was a girl."
He gave her a quizzical look when he took his hand back. "Haven't heard of Windwick."
"It's outside Arren," she replied, which got her a nod and a look of comprehension. "I'm Anil."
"Zairn," he replied, then motioned to her to follow him into the barn. "I'll give you a tour of the place and set you up with another hand to teach you the job."
Anil tried not to seem too excited as she followed the breeding master into the stable. Lining the aisle were stalls, each occupied by a very pregnant mare. She paused to rub a bay's nose and was rewarded with a soft nicker.
"The foaling season is just beginning," Zairn explained as they walked. "During the height of the season we will have multiple foals born every day and night. We have close to a hundred mares in foal this season."
"I didn't realize so many horses were needed," Anil commented, trying not to get distracted by the velvety noses that practically begged to be rubbed.
"Some foals will be stillborn," Zairn explained. "Not all of them will succeed in training. The army and the Royal Guard always need extra horses – some become ill or have injuries that make them unsuitable for use in battle. Those that don't need to be humanely killed go on to other uses. Most of the work horses on the surrounding farms were born here. The mares become broodmares."
"I understand," Anil replied, nodding.
"The placards on the stall doors tell the mare's name and stallion she is in foal to," he went on. "After the foal is born and a name is chosen, its name will replace the stallion's."
They entered a room that reminded Anil of a library. Shelves lined with books covered the walls, and a man in a green robe was writing in a book at a desk under the window. There were four large portraits of regally-posed horses in the room, one on each of the walls.
"The Ryal steeds have four distinct bloodlines," Zairn told her. "This is the records room where every horse ever bred is recorded. This is where each pairing is decided, and where names are chosen. The names follow strict rules, with each foal being named after the foundation stallion it is descended from. Names can only be repeated if the last horse bearing the name has been dead for at least a decade, so sometimes that is quite the feat. That's why it's left to the record keepers to decide on names," he finished, motioning to the robed man, who ignored them.
Zairn pointed to each of the four portraits. "Those are the four foundation stallions that were brought here by Grand King Caolan during the war to reclaim Phelin from Berk all those years ago. His was the pure white stallion, Blade. Second King Kian's stallion was the black, Stormchaser. Kian didn't ride him much in battle, though. He was too busy fighting on his feet with the infantry. The bay, Bowman, was Queen Nydia's. She led many a cavalry charge on him, though most of her soldiers had horses nowhere near as good as he was. Most were on work horses and sturdy ponies. That lovely dun is Starrunner, Queen Dyna's horse. They say he was the fastest horse that ever lived, but I think Dyna must have magicked his shoes – she was a sorceress after all. Haven't had any especially fast horses out of his line, but his color still appears."
Zairn led her back out of the room and stopped beside the closest stall. "This pretty mare is Storm."
Anil read the stallion's name on the stall placard. "Oh, she's in foal to Quiver? I rode him on the way here from Windwick." Only a couple times, she amended silently. Sometimes it had been more convenient to switch horses with Myri or Coulta than rearrange all of the ropes that allowed them to sleep in turns while riding to Ryal.
"He let you ride him?" the breeding master asked in obvious surprise.
"He let my other two companions ride him, too. Myri and Coulta. Coulta was riding him before me."
Zairn shook his head. "Horses still surprise me."
"Have there ever been horses given terrible names?" she asked out of curiosity.
He laughed. "A few years back they tried naming a Bowman colt Target. I swear, I would have thrown them into the Amia River down below us if they hadn't rethought that."
"That's certainly not a good name for a war horse," Anil agreed with a laugh.
"They eventually realized that. Decided it would be courting bad luck. Anyway, here, I'll get you started with some actual work, now that you know the scholarly stuff."
Anil gave Storm's face a final rub before following Zairn over to where two stable hands were closely watching a palomino mare.
"Goldenblade looks like she's close to foaling," one of the hands, a man who looked slightly older than Anil was, said to Zairn.
Zairn smiled at Anil. "A foaling on your first day. I guess we'll know if you chose the right stable to work in soon enough."
Anil returned the smile. "I think I did."
