Page 45 of Carousel

He glances at me, eyebrow raised.

“I’m not!”

“People used to call you and your brother The Nobles back home.”

“I’m certainly not a noble.”

The nobles I’d met I hadn’t particularly liked. The young Crown Princess only ever seemed to ask for things, or cry.

Reaching under the bed, Cosmer picks up a leather belt fitted with various items. He attaches the belt to his waist and takes out a comb from it. Looking into a reflective plate on the wall, he rakes it twice through his hair.

“I know that,” he says, gently. “But you’re eloquent. Educated. Just the way you hold yourself is different. And I know your destroy-them-with-kindness thing generally worked on the people in our village⁠—”

“My what thing?”

He spins to face me again.

“But it’s not going to work on the people here. I’ll tell you that. And while I don’t really care what happens to that deserter oaf I’ve got to babysit now⁠—”

“Don’t call him that⁠—”

“I care what happens to you.”

He’s no longer looking at me.

In one motion, he pulls his leather jacket down from a hook on the back of the wooden door and slings it on.

I’m suddenly aware how small this room is. How airless.

A second passes. From a tiny dresser, he picks up my prisoner uniform. Lays it on my bed.

“I’ll step outside now, so you can get dressed – but be quick. And then we’ll make our beds. I’ll show you how we do that here.”

I swallow. “It’s fine. You can stay. Just… don’t stare.”

I emerge from the covers. Slowly, facing the wall, I begin to unbutton my dress.

Once I’m in my uniform, Cosmer tells me to watch him carefully while he makes his bed, because I’ll need to make mine.

First, he strips his bed completely. Then he gets his bottom sheet symmetrical on the bed and goes around tucking it under his mattress. He tackles the corners with a sharp, specific fold that gets them packed in tightly.

I watch as his long pale fingers move with perfect precision. It’s sort of mesmerising. I thought I’d known how to do something as simple as make a bed. Clearly not.

“Are you still watching?” he asks, on his last corner.

“Yes.”

“Good. Because you’ll be up in just a moment.”

He takes his top sheet, which has been folded in three, and lays it over the middle of the bed, before extending it out. He finishes by tucking it into the mattress with the same folded corners.

I have to admit, the result is a pretty immaculate bed.

He’s standing.

“Think you can do that?”

“I’ll try.”