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The miller and his apprentice looked at the pair of them with expressions of confusion and Lucan knew immediately that they had been unsuccessful at disguising themselves as commoners. Two men riding the same fine horse, one in his underwear, the other in half-attire very nearly drew more attention than the prince and his knight would have. Commoners might wear plainer clothing than royals, but they did not typically go about wearing one another’s underwear, and they certainly didn’t ride royal steeds together either. Suddenly seeing things through the eyes of the onlookers made him realize what a strange vision they must make.
“Let us dismount,” he said to Sebastian. “We do not want to be seen in such close equine company. It is not common for men to ride so. Perhaps if you were a maiden, it might not be so notable.”
Even as he said the words, an idea came to him. It was going to be necessary to hide Sebastian in plain sight, and given his relatively slim build and very pleasing features, it might very well be possible to pass him as a maiden.
“No,” Sebastian said as he slid down from the horse, helped by Lucan’s hands on his hips.
“No what?”
“No, you are not dressing me up as a girl.”
Did the Prince have mind reading abilities? Or had he simply connected those two conversational points very swiftly? Lucan had to remember that though Sebastian was not well trained or conditioned to war, he was far from stupid.
“Why not? You could be dressed as a very fine lady, and in doing do, become untraceable.”
Sebastian narrowed his tempestuous blue gaze at Lucan. “I am not a woman.”
“I know,” Lucan said evenly. “That is why it would be a disguise.”
He suspected the reason for Sebastian’s passionate response to the idea was not because Sebastian had anything against women per se, but because of the toxic ideals instilled by his mother and father.
“I’d rather die than wear a dress,” Sebastian muttered.
“Seb, you have been too close to death to be making such pronouncements. We need to use all options available to us.”
“I will wear a dress when you wear one.”
“I would make a poor woman,” Lucan laughed.
“And I would not?”
“You have a certain delicacy and grace.”
Lucan dodged the not very good punch thrown at his jaw. Sebastian, thoroughly incensed, tried again with his left arm, which was even less effective. Lucan caught his wrist on the way past, twisted Sebastian around, and put him in, well, not really even a grapple, more like a rear bear hug.
“Good instincts,” he purred in the prince’s ear. “But the power for a blow comes from the hips, and you want your arm to be straight, so the force is not lost in your elbow as it bends like a sapling. I will teach you better hand-to-hand techniques as part of your training.”
“Unhand me,” Sebastian growled. “We are making a scene.”
There was nobody around, and Lucan did not feel inclined to let Sebastian go just yet. He liked the feeling of the prince pressed up against him. He enjoyed Sebastian’s temper. Bringing out this side of the prince was essential to Seb’s survival. He had to know how to get angry, how to control that anger, how to fight. This truly was like training an overgrown squire.
“Lucan!” Sebastian snapped his name, and there was just a hint of royal rage in his voice.
Lucan smiled, slapped Sebastian’s rear, and let him go. Sebastian stumbled forward, an absolute sight in his oversized shirt, undergarment shorts, and bare feet.
They both walked, Lucan leading his horse along the country road. He felt very bad that the rightful king of Force had no shoes, but Seb’s barefoot urchin appearance certainly helped the matter of disguise.
Coming toward them from the village was another strong set of horses came pulling a cart laden with chaff. The sight of them seemed to please the prince greatly.
“Those are fine beasts,” Sebastian commented over his shoulder to Lucan. “They are like the war horses, but even stronger. I should like to ride one.”
Lucan was glad to hear Sebastian talk about wanting to ride. He had been stunted in many respects by his mother’s refusal to allow him to learn many of the skills necessary for adult survival, but he was keen to learn.
Not long after, he spotted an elderly woman walking along the road carrying a basket half-full of mushrooms no doubt picked from the forest around Greenbelt. Lucan slowed his mount and addressed her.
“My good lady, where might we go to purchase new clothing? Ours was the victim of a series of unfortunate events.”
It was the closest thing to the truth he could say. People, especially peasants, were not stupid. They were poor, but they knew when they were being lied to, and they were keen judges of character. He was hoping to move through Greenbelt with the minimum of attention drawn, though strangers of their kind were guaranteed to be noticed.
