"That one," Vasily said on a breath, not daring to look away. He let himself into the open stable, where the horses were meant to rest before the race. It was larger than any stable he'd seen before. High-ceilings made of light-colored wood, the same which was used to separate each of the twenty horses from each other. Every mare or stallion was kept in its own quarters, given thrice as much hay as necessary, and at least one lad was to watch the animal, and tend to their needs.
Vasily took this all in as his long strides brought him to the one horse he wished to see. Its blue eyes bore into his, and he wondered, not for the first time, if horses had the ability to see someone's soul.
"-Mr. Lantsov!" A voice called, and Vasily felt himself stiffen. He didn't turn as the short, fat man left in charge of this place, stomped his booted feet to meet him. The man was panting, his round face red.
"What do you want, Artur?" He said boredly, letting the palm of his hand meet the horse's snout. It leaned into the touch, closing its eyes.
Mine. Vasily decided.
"I'll take him. Prepare him for the race, and let me see the lad caring for him," he said, starting to turn away.
"I- Mr.Lantsov- I'm afraid I can't do that-" the man stuttered.
Vasily stilled. He turned slowly around, the way he'd his father respond to dignitaries who spoke out of line.
It had the desired effect; the man's face paling considerably.
"What?" Vasily asked quietly. The man's eyes were trained on the floor, and his voice was very small when he spoke again.
"You can't take it, sir. Owned by the Rider."
Vasily lifted a shoulder in an easy shrug "then I'll buy the horse and the man riding it," he said simply, and began to walk away again.
"I-im afraid that won't do either. The Rider comes with a company of their own," Artur explained.
Vasily heard this and took it all in for a moment. The man had referred to him as 'Mr. Lantsov' repeatedly, and was likely from Ravka as well, judging by his name and features. Yet, he did not feel compelled to fulfill the wishes of the Crown Prince.
He frowned. This was new.
"Fetch me this Rider, and I'll have a word with him myself." He said, fishing his riding gloves from his pocket and pulling them onto his hands.
"Well, actually-"
"Now, Artur," Vasily said impatiently. It didn't take long before he'd scurried off to find the bastard. The nerve of these people.
Vasily shook his head, flexing his fingers inside the leather of his gloves.
He turned back to the horse in question, his mind going to the first time he'd ever ridden a horse himself.
It was in the stables outside the Little Palace. He had never ventured into the place, thinking little of it but a place where dirty creatures and the horses they cared for lay to sleep.
But his brother was curious. Nikolai had snuck out after one of their lessons and headed straight for the stables, where Vasily suspected, he would meet up with his friend.
The villager.
More than glad to catch his brother in the act of something the King would surely disapprove of, he followed.
Vasily trailed his brother down the Grand staircase, into a secluded hall. He'd never been in this hall, as it led directly to the servant's quarters. No prince should know of these passages, he thought. But his brother had never been much of a prince.
In every sense of the word. Vasily's mind completed, referring back to the conversation he'd overheard some of the diplomats' wives having with his mother.
"Wherever did you get such a darling little thing? Not here in Ravka, that's for certain!"
And they'd laughed, and his mother had laughed along. But she hadn't denied it.
While the term 'sneaking out' had entailed that Nikolai ignore and avoid the teachers and diplomats they'd passed on their way down here, his brother was more than happy to speak to each and every servant.
He knew their names, Vasily realized with disgust.
They'd still be smiling and blushing when Nikolai had left, but that would all drop away when they saw Vasily approaching. Good, he thought, straightening his back, father always said it's better to be feared than to be loved.
Still, it stung.
Nikolai slipped out of a small door Vasily had never noticed before. It led out into the courtyard, just behind the large fountain. His brother must have assumed the night would cover for him, but Vasily could easily see him by the light of the moon.
Straight to the stables, he went, on silent feet, a small bundle in his arms. Vasily followed a safe distance behind, his mind entertaining him with beautiful images of how his brother would be punished. Perhaps his father will finally find it in him to have the boy whipped.
Perhaps he'd kick him out of the castle altogether, tell everyone the truth about his parentage. The possibilities were endless.
Nikolai had opened the door just a crack and slid into the stables. Vasily had then realized that he had not planned so far. Nikolai was inside. He was out. Should he follow him? Let his brother know he'd tailed him the whole distance from the Palace?
But it was cold outside, and soon, the decision was made for him as thunder sounded in the distance. It would rain soon.
Vasily slipped into the stables behind his brother.
Now, the blue eyes watched him with such intensity, as Vasily let his gloved hand traced the lines of its face.
"What was his punishment?" Asked a voice. Vasily startled, turning to find a girl standing there. She can't have been older than eighteen, wearing faded black pants tucked into high boots. Her white shirt was buttoned up to the collar, brown hair tied into a tail at the name of her neck. She eyes him, her dark eyes demanding an answer.
She didn't bow or courtesy. Likely she doesn't know who I am, Vasily determined.
"Pardon?" He asked in response to her strange question.
"Your brother, the one you were just speaking of, what was his punishment?" She explained, looking irritated at the need to repeat herself.
"I..." Had he been talking aloud? "I don't believe I told anyone in the end. I was rather distracted. You see, before, I'd never been allowed near the horses. Ever since I've loved to ride or just to watch them run, they truly are beautiful creatures."
"I agree," she said, canting her head in indication. She walked over to where Vasily was standing beside the horse itself.
"Which do you think will win?" She asked. Which will you bet on?
Vasily glanced at the horses passively, his eyes landing once again on the lovely creature before him.
"This one," he said confidentially "he's not like the rest."
The girl snorted in a very unladylike manner "No, she bloody well isn't,"
Vasily looked back at the horse again. Of course, how had he missed it?
He canted his head in acknowledgment, "Right. Either way, I intend to leave with horse and Rider in tow." He said, making up for his mistake with this.
The girl eyed him, brows lifted in what could only be amusement.
"Just like that?" She asked.
"Just like that." He agreed.
The whistle sounded outside, signaling that all the Riders should head to their horses for final preparations. He should be back with the other Ravkan diplomats, where they would watch the race.
"Do you always do that?" The girl asked, reaching for something in the horse's stable.
"Do what?" Vasily asked, distracted now, as the Riders began pouring into the stables, heading to their horses and putting on their gear. Where the devil had Artur gone? Where was the Rider of this horse?
He leaned away from the wooden door, separating him from the horse, as it was pulled open. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, he counted the riders.
The sound of something clinking made him turn back to the horse. He frowned. The girl had climbed onto it, resting one hand gently on the horse's mane, and holding something in her other hand.
A helmet.
"Underestimate those around you?" She replied, smirking a little. She didn't wait for his answer, just gave the horse's side a gentle kick, then rode out of the stables, riders left and right waving to her as she left.
Vasily watched, dumbstruck, as the only horse he'd believed could win, and the one person he'd dismissed so easily rode away just as another whistle sounded.
"Did- did you meet the Rider? Did she agree, Mr.Lantsov?" A sweaty-faced Artur called out, pushing past some of the other Riders that were leading their horses away.
He glared at the man in response, straightening his coat as he strolled past him.
"Find me another decent Rider, Artur, and make sure he wins."
