Chapter 236 - 234: The Stallion.

Chapter 236: Chapter 234: The Stallion.

​"...At least they’re not trying to kill each other," Montrel offers in consolation as the princess tries to conceal a grimace at Khobi’s (entirely accurate) assessment of her cousin.

He’s lucky she turns away and just so happens to miss Khobi vengefully ankle-tap Loac into the mud as he walks --probably for shoulder checking him earlier, but also possibly for any number of other things.

​He can’t help but roll his eyes.

​Honestly.

​"I suppose you’re right," she admits, returning her attention back towards the target taunting her.

She tells him that that last shot felt much better, and asks him to check her form again to make sure that she can keep it consistent; she’s sure that if manages that then her arrows will surely follow.

​She’s not wrong.

​For a lady, she sure catches on quick when it comes to these things.

​From the way her brow creases, it’s obvious that she’s still not used to the weight of the bow or the tension behind the bowstring, but Montrel wouldn’t have expected her to be.

Weapons of any kind require strength and finesse to wield them effectively, and that sort of thing doesn’t just happen –especially for princesses who rarely have to carry anything heavier than their own skirts, and sometimes not even then.

​"Watch your elbow," he reminds her as he assesses her stance. " –Ah, that’s too high, now..." Out of habit, he moves to correct the angle of her elbow, but freezes when her handmaidens swoop in looking alarmed.

Immediately he backs off, hands where they can see them.

​Ah shit .

He’s gone and forgotten himself again. People probably aren’t meant to touch the princess so casually.

​"Shit, sorry," he stammers, and then adds another curse in his head for forgetting his tongue, too. "I was just...can I...? It’s easier if I..."

​"It’s fine," the princess tells him, voice lightly strained from how long she’s been holding her bow at full draw, and gives her handmaidens a reassuring look.

Montrel sighs, and gingerly reaches out to make a couple of light adjustments, trying his best not to let his gloves leave dirty marks on her clothes.

She responds easily to his touch; movements and limbs so dainty and soft that Montrel is mildly terrified that he’s going to accidentally shatter her.

​The instant he steps back the arrow goes flying.

​And with a satisfying thunk , it sinks into the target.

​It’s nowhere close to a bullseye but Montrel throws a fist into the air with a whoop regardless.

A couple of the nearby soldiers –the ones most invested with their princess’ journey of self-discovery –let out a couple of hearty cheers, and even her handmaidens, who had seemed completely opposed to her being here, let out small gasps.

​The princess jumps .

​"I did it!" she squeals in delight, and then coughs as she remembers herself and hurriedly fights to regain her composure.

It’s shit, that she feels like she has to do that for some reason, because it’s clear that she’s seriously proud of herself and wants desperately to tell the world.

She’s just done something really cool. Why shouldn’t she celebrate?

​So, because he never thinks before he talks – especially when he should –he tells her that.

She looks at him like he’s grown frogs legs for eyebrows.

​And then she giggles, clutching her bow to her chest like it is something rare and precious, and if that’s not the cutest thing he’s ever seen then he doesn’t know what is.

She doesn’t whoop the way he did, but instead drops her voice to a whisper like they’re sharing a secret.

​"...It hit the target!" she gushes urgently, voice bubbling with excitement, and her pink eyes shining with pride .

​It’s seriously cute.

​And while he is seriously not supposed to think that, what can he do but grin back?

...

"Hey, Khobi, are you listening?"

​Khobi was in fact, not listening, but Montrel doesn’t need to know that.

​"Yeah, yeah," he chants, giving the horse in front of him a rub on the nose.

She lets out a soft whicker and presses into his hand, "I got it, I got it." Montrel doesn’t seem convinced, but Gandy is in the doorway looking impatient so there’s no helping it.

​" Fine ," he heaves reluctantly, and directs his next remark to his horse, "You make sure he behaves himself, okay girl? If you’re good I’ll bring you back a nice new winter blanket.

And if he talks shit about me, you tell me, yeah?"

​"She’s a horse," Khobi deadpans, and Montrel jabs him in the ribs for being so rude. His horse seems to find this particularly funny, and dances in place.

​" Montrel ," Gandy huffs from the front entrance, arms tucked up under his armpits and jogging on the spot to keep his body warm, "The grooms’ll kill him before they let anything happen to your girl, just hurry up; it’s fucking freezing out here."

​" Oi, I said I’m coming ," Montrel snaps back, and it’s not overly clear whether the one last, " Be good ," he flings back at the pair of them as he ambles towards the doors is meant for Khobi or his horse.

​"Who does he think we are?" Khobi complains to the horse, and then grimaces when he realises he’s just done the exact same thing all the soldiers like to make fun of Montrel for.

They’re all the same though; talking to their horses like they’re people –often times nicer than if they were people, even. Montrel’s horse is a nice one, though.

Khobi’s been down here enough with him that she recognises him by now, and he must smell like the kitchens a lot of the time because she likes nuzzling at his hands and his pockets even when he doesn’t have any treats for her.

He’s even helped feed her a couple of times, but the way the grooms (and a couple of the servants) had watched him like goddamn vultures to make sure he didn’t do anything wrong was possibly one of the most nerve wracking experiences of his life.