Kieran

Everybody is somewhere in the castle, doing whatever it is they are doing in the secret confines of their privacy. No doubt, it would be easy to find Astrid in the library or Imogen in the stables or arranging folded clothes in one of the parlors. But today I cannot entertain another moment indoors. Not when the world outside has turned itself to ice. Not when the weather whispers to me every night that spring will find its way here soon.

Eli must feel restless, too, because I find him staring out one of the windows in the kitchen, drumming his fingers against the counters wistfully.

I clear my throat behind him.

He isn’t startled until he sees that it is me and not anybody else. A cautious expression crosses his face, as if expecting me to scold him or to order him to leave.

“The pond next to the gardens should be frozen over by now,” I remark casually, looking out to where he was staring.

He blinks and doesn’t say anything. I bend down to eradicate the stark difference in our heights.

“What say we finally use the skates I brought back years ago?”

“Right. So, you’ll want to keep your feet slightly apart. Like this.” I demonstrate for him. He watches my feet and tries to copy, but his skates slip far too wide apart.

His short fingers curl around my coat in a desperate attempt to steady himself. He bears his weight against me.

I feel myself wobble.

“Hey, hey!” I cry out, stretching my arms out to balance the both of us. “Stop grabbing me like that! You’ll make us both fall. Now, bend your knees a little so you fall forward on your hands instead of on your bottom.”

Despite his initial panic, Eli manages to chuckle. “Fall on my bottom,” he mumbles. He does as he is bid.

I roll my eyes. “Alright. Now, pushing one foot forward with the other, you just…”

We both glide. Our pace is slow and unrushed, the late afternoon chill tickling against the back of our necks. Eli pulls his hat lower over his coffee curls and shudders.

“Do you want to go back inside?” I offer.

“I want to go faster.”

He releases my coat and picks up his pace. For every stride I take, he has to take two, so I go relatively slow for the speed I am accustomed to. Or at least, the speed I was accustomed to all those years ago when I mistakenly thought ice-skating was a good way to impress people.

“Watch the turn,” I tell him when the edge of the lake curves, but it is too late. He skids and wobbles precariously, arms flailing.

Before I can catch one arm, he has already gripped mine. But instead of stopping to steady himself, his skates take a sharp turn. My whole body lurches forward.

My skates slip from beneath me. I land on my bottom with a thump.

“Agh – ow!” I glare daggers at the boy.

He tugs on my hand. “Sorry,” he says unapologetically.

My knees nearly fuse with the ice while I try to get up. Eli barely waits for me to get to my feet before he takes off again, arms spread wide like a plane to balance himself.

I watch him go. He keeps to the edges at first, but after some time he dares to venture out towards the middle. A carefree grin plays out under the roses in his cheeks: a reminder of childishness frozen in time. A testament to the fact that, however much he has grown, he is still somewhat awkwardly disallowed from passing on to a new paradigm.

Not for the first time, I am reminded that he is the way he is because of me.

His body rockets into my leg. We skid together, both scrambling for balance while he tries to make a grab for my coat. I finally lose control of my own feet and fall on my bottom. Hard.

It takes my brain a while to formulate words through the electric haze clouding my lower spine.

“Y-you!” I wag a finger at Eli, groaning like a ghost out of a Charles Dickens novel. “Stop that!”

“Sorry,” he says again.

I try to prop myself up, but the stiffness still hasn’t worn out, even with my quick healing. A flurry of curses leaves my lips.

Eli purses his lips. “You said rude words,” he accuses me.

“No, I did not. They are simply words the Master of the House holds the exclusive privilege to use.”

“They are rude words. Mama told me you are often rude.”

My eyebrows shoot up at this. He must notice the scandal behind what he said, because now his face really goes red. He starts to twist off shavings of ice with his skates.

I regain the strength to climb back up to my feet. Brushing the wetness off my trousers, I tell him, “And you are an impish boy.”

“I am not,” his head snaps up indignantly.

“Yes, you are. I saw you steal an apple from Bayorn’s basket just before he tried to feed it to his horse. Don’t try to deny it.”

He continues to twist his foot. “At least I do not belch at the dinner table.”

“At least I don’t break wind in my sleep in the presence of everyone else.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do.” I am starting to sound more like a child than he does.

“Do not.”

“Especially when your mother carries you up the stairs after you’ve fallen asleep in the parlor,” I continue without mercy. “I hear it loud and clear, all the way from across the hall.”

“Well,” his nostrils flare. “You -”

“What are you doing?” a calmer voice interrupts us. We both spring apart and face our quiet observer.

Bayorn is standing there with his hands behind his back, casting an admonishing look upon us.

“Nothing,” I tell him before Eli can rat me out.

The captain raises his brow before turning his attention to the boy. “It is nearly twilight. Why don’t you ready yourself for dinner?”

Eli pouts and glares at me, as if I have taken up his precious skating time with tales of farts and cuss words. I glare right back, wondering when in the world he made the decision to shed all pretense of intimidation towards me.

“Eli,” Bayorn repeats himself calmly.

The boy huffs and skates his way towards the guard. We both watch as he trudges through the snow and eventually disappears up the steps.

Bayorn frowns at me with an indecipherable expression on his face.

“What?” I say.

“Nothing, sire.” He turns around and starts to make his way towards the trees.

I skate off the lake and follow after him. “Where are you going?”

He glances my way. “To round the perimeter. I will return to prepare you for tonight.”

In this weather? I pull the lapels of my coat closer over my chest when a breeze cuts through. “You don’t have to do it today,” I tell him, following his footprints in the snow.

“After Lady Astrid’s report of the hunt, I would say it is rather necessary, my lord.”

“Stop.”

He stops. Even when his eyes are unwilling. Even when his stance is poised to continue barging into the forest in this low light.

Picking up my pace, I half-jog as quickly as I can in my shoes and fall into step with him. He shoots me a bewildered look.

“Well?” I gesture ahead of us. “Carry on.”

Again that undecipherable frown reaches his features, as if instead of a beast, I will be turning into a Sudoku puzzle tonight. I pretend not to see it and walk on with my head held high.

Out of the corner of my eye, he looks ahead and smiles to himself.