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Sebastian perked up at the realization he was going to get his own horse. It was a bit sad, considering the royal family had a stable of many hundreds of horses, and he should have been riding since he was a small boy. It was unfathomable that a prince should not be able to transport himself and be at the mercy of carriages and carriers and drivers and all other manner of slow and unwieldy transportation.
“Can I choose a horse?”
“You may look,” Lucan said. Sebastian obviously had no experience in choosing horses, and he would not make the final decision.
Lucan watched as Sebastian climbed over the railing and went into the horse pen. Most of the beasts had little interest in him once they realized he had no food. They were far more interested in Lucan’s mare.
“Best to get another mare,” Lucan said. “We’ve no use for stallions.”
“I like this one,” Sebastian announced, gesturing to a chestnut mare with a flaxen mane who pinned her ears at irritation from simply being looked at. She was more finely built than the others, more of a part-bred than a true draft horse.
“Yes!” Timon agreed. “That’s the fiery steed you need. She’s but four years old.”
“We’re not looking for fiery. We’re looking for sensible,” Lucan reminded him. “And we’re looking for an older horse. A mare in her teens at least.”
“I’m looking for fiery,” Sebastian declared.
Lucan stepped into the pen and began to inspect the horses, lifting their feet, checking their teeth, seeing how they responded to being handled and running his hands over them from poll to rump to see if they had any sore spots or white hairs from rub marks caused by poor saddling.
“We will take the older mare, the bay,” Lucan said, putting his hand on the shoulder of the one he had chosen. She had a gentle eye and the bearing of a sensible mount. Her teeth were good, and she offered no resistance to the manipulation of her limbs. Her condition was light and her conformation did leave something to be desired, but she was as good a buy as any in the pen.
“You want me on some old nag?” Sebastian scowled. “I want a horse as fine as yours.”
“When you are able to ride my horse, you may. For now, you need a sensible, sane mount who will keep you safe. Not one who is about to bite you if you move any closer to her.”
“She’s not going to.. ow!”
The prince cursed as the chestnut reached out and nipped Sebastian quite firmly.
“We will take the bay,” Lucan said to Timon.
“As you say, m’lord.”
Sebastian sulked while Lucan finished the task of acquiring the rest of their provisions. Lucan let him.
Finally fully outfitted, with saddle bags replete with provisions, a light dagger and a short sword, and a passable bow for Sebastian, not to mention a full set of arrows for both, Lucan was satisfied.
He helped Sebastian up into the saddle for the first time, pleased to see that the prince seemed to have a natural equilibrium. Royal breeding did favor strength and agility, even if neither of those traits had been encouraged in Sebastian’s upbringing.
To be certain of the prince’s safety, Lucan tied the reins up on the saddle and instead used a halter to pony the mare from his own mount.
“What will you call your horse?”
Sebastian scowled rather than answer. He had fallen into a full royal sulk.
Unconcerned by the prince’s mood, Lucan mounted his horse and the two of them left the village of Greenbelt at a steady pace. He kept a careful eye on Sebastian, knowing that in the prince’s current mood he would be unlikely to let Lucan know even if he did need some aid.
Fortunately, the mare was wide and slow. Good traits for a new rider who needed a good base to learn to move with the motion of a horse. Sebastian would be sore at the end of the day’s ride, but that could not be helped.
“So it is your intention to deprive me of all nice things, to humble and destroy me,” Sebastian broke his silence to sulk out loud.
Lucan ignored the comment, as it was clearly outlandish and the product of a petulant temper.
“Do not ignore me, Lucan!” There was a pitch to Sebastian’s voice that grated on the knight’s nerves. He did not intend to allow Sebastian to speak to him that way. Yes, Sebastian was the Prince of Force, and yes, rightful king. But Lucan was not a maid to be bossed about by a petulant prince.
Lucan spoke without looking over his shoulder, intending to give only one warning.
“Seb, get control of your temper before I get control of you.”
5 ANOTHER WHIPPING
Sebastian heard the steel in Lucan’s voice and fell silent. It was not entirely the first time Lucan had growled at him with even a fraction of his natural authority, but it was the first time he felt annoyed by it.
