“Nothing, we’re stopping for lunch.” Ix ruffled his hair.
Eric groaned in disgust, suddenly fully awake. He pulled away before Ix could completely unset his hair and crumpled the flattened side back into shape. Ix’s preoccupation with his curls was absurd, matched only by Eric’s fixation with Ix’s long hair, so neither of them were able to say anything about it.
Ix was standing at the doorway of the carriage with his hand outstretched, as if Eric were a lady to help down.
“Stop that,” said Eric as a surge of deep affection overtook him, and felt the smile in his voice. Gods. Disgusting.
“It’s a steep step.” Ix didn’t move, but he did deign to smirk.
“It’s a steep– it’s the same carriage you’ve had for the last five years,” said Eric incredulously. There was nothing for it. He put his hand in Ix’s and let himself be helped down the step.
It was quite nice actually. Not that he would say so to Ix.
“Gods, lovely day to be traveling,” said Marty, walking over from one carriage down. If he noticed them holding hands, he didn’t mention it. Eric had noticed that none of the other lads had suggested riding with the two of them. “I hope the food is good.”
“It usually is,” Eric reassured him, squeezing Ix’s hand before letting go. This inn, The Speckled Eagle, held some nostalgia, not that he had been here in years. Nestled just inside the border of Marrawshire, it was the same one he’d stopped at any time he traveled to the country estate, and not much had changed over the years. It was one of several inns along this stretch of the road, ideally placed for travelers halfway between the port and the city. This one was a sprawling building, well maintained and clean, though the occasional chicken from opposite wandered across. The rustic thatched roof sloped lowenough that as they gathered around the entrance, Ix had to duck his head to get inside.
“Your Highness! We’re honored to have you here,” said Martha, the cheerful woman who owned the place with her husband. Her hair held more gray now than Eric remembered, and the lines around her eyes that crinkled with her smile had multiplied, but she was the same otherwise. She dipped a low curtsy to Ixthan, then to Eric. A moment of hesitation. “My condolences about your father, milord.”
Eric murmured his thanks with surprise. In hindsight, Martha had probably seen his father every few months whenever he traveled back to the house, which was more often than Eric had.
Thankfully, Martha moved briskly on: “We did have the private room ready for you seeing how the common room is packed, but given the weather today you wouldn’t want to sit outside, would you?”
“Yes! Let’s enjoy the sunshine while we can,” enthused Imogen.
They weren’t the only ones with the same idea. Several groups were set up, and not all the kind of customers that Eric would have expected. The Speckled Eagle usually hosted nobles and merchants with enough coin to spend on a cut above; the other side of the road was The Rusty Knight for the more common traders and further down the road and around a bend was The Demon and The Lady, which was much more lively and where the servants and soldiers tended to stay.
“Has trade picked up a lot, or is it unusually busy right now?” asked Eric when Martha and her son came back out with a veritable platter of food.
“Oh, it’s for the fair in Marrawton, I’ve seen lots of folk coming through from all different counties,” said Martha. “It’slooking to shape up to be a lively one, I’m sure you’re pleased about that, milord.”
“I – yes, of course,” said Eric, caught out. “Yes. Lively is good.”
“‘Lively is good’?” repeated Ix once Martha had left.
“I wasn’t going to tell her I had no idea what she was on about, was I?” hissed Eric, hiding his flush by concentrating very hard on doling out roast potatoes onto Ix’s plate and then his own plate.
“Oh good, I was about to lambaste you for not telling us about a fair,” said Katherine. “That’ll be right on your doorstep, won’t it? We should take a look around.”
“Yes, the estate is at the edge of the town. We’ll ask Petra if she feels up for it,” said Eric, examining the other groups with interest now he knew what they were here for.
After lunch, they had quite a bit of company on the road toward Marrawton. They started seeing a few signs after a while, staked into the ground and telling people of a new fair on Marrawton Green. Try as he might, Eric couldn’t remember where Marrawton Green was but they’d find it if they followed everyone else at this point.
They emerged from the woodlands and into the stretch that turned into the main street for Marrawton. Eric laughed suddenly. “Oh gods! This is all Petra’s doing, that sly cow! Look.”
Ix leaned over. It was perhaps unnecessary for him to press against the length of Eric’s entire body from shoulder to knee to look out of the window, much less steady himself with a hand curled against Eric’s waist, but Eric wasn’t going to complain. He had never visited Eric at the country house before, but what he was looking at was obvious enough. The fair was suddenly visible, the tops of tents and stalls, colorful flags and banners waving in the air, steam and smoke from fires and food vendorsrising, and right behind that cacophony of life rose the walls of Marrawton Hall.
Eric fished out the latest letter from Petra, the one inviting him and their friends to come visit:
Dearest Eric,
I am quite settled at the Hall now. I fear I’ve sent the servants into despair with the number of changes I’ve requested. I don’t feel any are unreasonable, but it must seem a lot after Father’s habit of not changing anything for the last thirty years. The new housekeeper, Mrs. Trundle, said it reminded me of Mother, a compliment I’ve been chuffed by for the last two weeks.
My plans for the gardens are well under way too and I think you’ll like what I’ve done. Why don’t you ask everyone to come visit now the weather is turning? You’ll be just in time to see the trees blossom.
Your favorite sister,
Petra
