The Scarecrow King: A Romantic Retelling of the King Thrushbeard Fairy Tale by Jill Myles Page B
Authors: Jill Myles
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even showed me a few stabs (which was apparently allowed with a dagger, but not with a curved sword). I quickly grew bored of this, and as soon as Aleksandr released me from practice, I put the dagger away.
“You should practice every day when we rest,” he advised me.
I made a face at him and flounced to the ground, weary already. The day was warm and I was sweating in my musty dress, but I couldn’t bring myself to change. I was saving it for when we arrived in Lioncourt. “I’m tired,” I complained.
Aleksandr had no sympathy. He glanced up at the sky and then continued petting the horse. “We should leave camp soon and start traveling for the day.”
“Back to the city?” I asked hopefully.
“Not the city. We’re done with the city for now. Like I said, it’s not safe.”
I flopped back in the grass, exhausted and irritated that he was being so stubborn. Hadn’t he ever heard of safety in numbers? “So when do we get there? Tomorrow? The day after?”
If I had to camp for much longer, I was going to lose what little patience I had.
He ran a soothing hand over the horse’s nose, stroking it. “Get where?”
I sat up, suddenly alarmed. “To Lioncourt, of course.”
Aleksandr wouldn’t look over at me. “Soon.”
I didn’t like that tone of his. It was too vague. Too casual. “How soon is ‘soon’?”
He paused, then glanced over his shoulder at me. “Three weeks.”
Three weeks? Three weeks ? My heart dropped, and I felt like bursting into tears of frustration. I was doing my best to cope with the next day or so – I couldn’t even imagine three more weeks of hell. My voice wobbled as I spoke, then grew stronger with anger. “We’re going to stay out here for three more weeks? Are you mad?”
“We’re not going to stay here. We’re going to keep traveling to Lioncourt. I’m afraid we’re going to have to go around the main roads and cut through the mountains. We don’t have a choice.” He gave me a chagrined look. “I’m very sorry, Rinda.”
I threw down the waterskin, resisting the urge to stomp on it and destroy it. I didn't care that we'd run out of water - right now all I wanted to do was destroy something in anger. "You're lying to me!"
Aleksandr stepped forward, snatched the waterskin from the ground, and gave me a grim look. His jaw was tight as he struggled to hold his temper. "I'm not lying to you, Rinda. Will you stop and think for a moment? Do you think I want to trek through the woods for the next three weeks, not knowing when we'll run into enemy soldiers? Do you think I enjoy torturing you?"
"I don't know what to think," I snarled back, sliding my shoe off and throwing it at him. "All I know is that I hate you for doing this to me."
"You think I did this to you?" His laugh was sharp and bitter, and he dodged my shoe with ease. "I saved you! Your father was going to marry you off to anyone who stepped through that doorway. You're lucky it was me and not a pig farmer."
I flinched at his words, every one of them striking me in my heart. "At least a pig farmer has a home," I cried out, struggling to remove my other shoe so I could throw it at his head. "You have nothing! No home! No money!"
He gave me a grim look. "Is money all that is important to you?"
"Yes!"
"Well then I'm sorry you're stuck with me," he said in a low, sad voice.
It was like I'd kicked a puppy. I wanted to weep at the sadness in his face. I'd caused that look, and it wasn't fair to him. I knew it wasn't, but I didn't have anyone else to yell at or make miserable, and I desperately needed to share my misery. I crumpled to the ground, and to my horror, hot tears of frustration began to leak from my eyes. Angry, I swiped them away, but they kept coming back.
"Don't cry, Rinda," Aleksandr said, kneeling next to me. His hand reached for mine and he pulled me to my feet. "Please don't cry. I'm sorry. I know this isn't your choosing."
Aleksandr was too nice. Here I'd been so mean to him,
“You should practice every day when we rest,” he advised me.
I made a face at him and flounced to the ground, weary already. The day was warm and I was sweating in my musty dress, but I couldn’t bring myself to change. I was saving it for when we arrived in Lioncourt. “I’m tired,” I complained.
Aleksandr had no sympathy. He glanced up at the sky and then continued petting the horse. “We should leave camp soon and start traveling for the day.”
“Back to the city?” I asked hopefully.
“Not the city. We’re done with the city for now. Like I said, it’s not safe.”
I flopped back in the grass, exhausted and irritated that he was being so stubborn. Hadn’t he ever heard of safety in numbers? “So when do we get there? Tomorrow? The day after?”
If I had to camp for much longer, I was going to lose what little patience I had.
He ran a soothing hand over the horse’s nose, stroking it. “Get where?”
I sat up, suddenly alarmed. “To Lioncourt, of course.”
Aleksandr wouldn’t look over at me. “Soon.”
I didn’t like that tone of his. It was too vague. Too casual. “How soon is ‘soon’?”
He paused, then glanced over his shoulder at me. “Three weeks.”
Three weeks? Three weeks ? My heart dropped, and I felt like bursting into tears of frustration. I was doing my best to cope with the next day or so – I couldn’t even imagine three more weeks of hell. My voice wobbled as I spoke, then grew stronger with anger. “We’re going to stay out here for three more weeks? Are you mad?”
“We’re not going to stay here. We’re going to keep traveling to Lioncourt. I’m afraid we’re going to have to go around the main roads and cut through the mountains. We don’t have a choice.” He gave me a chagrined look. “I’m very sorry, Rinda.”
I threw down the waterskin, resisting the urge to stomp on it and destroy it. I didn't care that we'd run out of water - right now all I wanted to do was destroy something in anger. "You're lying to me!"
Aleksandr stepped forward, snatched the waterskin from the ground, and gave me a grim look. His jaw was tight as he struggled to hold his temper. "I'm not lying to you, Rinda. Will you stop and think for a moment? Do you think I want to trek through the woods for the next three weeks, not knowing when we'll run into enemy soldiers? Do you think I enjoy torturing you?"
"I don't know what to think," I snarled back, sliding my shoe off and throwing it at him. "All I know is that I hate you for doing this to me."
"You think I did this to you?" His laugh was sharp and bitter, and he dodged my shoe with ease. "I saved you! Your father was going to marry you off to anyone who stepped through that doorway. You're lucky it was me and not a pig farmer."
I flinched at his words, every one of them striking me in my heart. "At least a pig farmer has a home," I cried out, struggling to remove my other shoe so I could throw it at his head. "You have nothing! No home! No money!"
He gave me a grim look. "Is money all that is important to you?"
"Yes!"
"Well then I'm sorry you're stuck with me," he said in a low, sad voice.
It was like I'd kicked a puppy. I wanted to weep at the sadness in his face. I'd caused that look, and it wasn't fair to him. I knew it wasn't, but I didn't have anyone else to yell at or make miserable, and I desperately needed to share my misery. I crumpled to the ground, and to my horror, hot tears of frustration began to leak from my eyes. Angry, I swiped them away, but they kept coming back.
"Don't cry, Rinda," Aleksandr said, kneeling next to me. His hand reached for mine and he pulled me to my feet. "Please don't cry. I'm sorry. I know this isn't your choosing."
Aleksandr was too nice. Here I'd been so mean to him,
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