I loathe carriage rides.

  My stomach is threatening to empty its contents on the rug covering the floor of the cabin at any moment, and no amount of fanning from my nursemaid Mared seems to aid.

  After traveling for many days, only stopping for the nights, the exhaustion had made its way deep inside my bones. The carriage is luxurious, like my quarters back home, but it doesn’t make the road any less bumpy to ease the travel to the capital. Father has refused the only solution, to let me ride a horse by his side, citing some vague notions of decorum and dignity.

  “Stop the carriage,” I whisper through my teeth. I doubt the coachman outside the cabin hears my pleas through the wood panel, but it doesn’t stop me from standing in the still moving carriage and opening the door, desperate for air, freedom, and release from the nausea.

  The world spins, and I fall on the floor of the carriage, my mouth fills with drool. My nursemaid yells, and the carriage comes to a sudden stop, my knees scrapping on the carpet as I shift. My stomach turns, and I barely push the top of my body out of the cabin before it empties itself of the meager breakfast we had an hour earlier.

  My nursemaid’s strong arms steady me, their touch a reassuring anchor as I fight to regain my breath. The sound of horses panting closer tells me the cortege had stopped. “Your grace, I believe it would be best for the young lady if we perhaps took a few minutes.”

  The arms that once cradled me pull me back to sit on my heels, offering me the comfort of their support. Shame holds no dominion over me as I revel in her embrace. My eyes fall on the small crowd of cavalry guards that is gathered around the carriage, their horses huffing. Father is at the center of them all, his severe eyes locked on me.

  I hold my breath and drop my gaze in respect. We have stopped many times in the past few days already to accommodate my discomfort; I find it unlikely he would allow it again considering we are running low on time to reach the capital before the start of the hatchling festival.

  “Ten minutes, no more. Make sure she gets water, Owain.”

  My eyes lift just enough to see my father’s right-hand nod at him. He turns to his own son, and a silent conversation passes between them, offering a glimpse into a world I know nothing of, before he dismounts his horse. A short walk brings him closer to the door of my wheeled prison.

  I know the boy well. Perhaps boy is not the way to describe him anymore. He is only a few turns of the orb older than me, yet he took after his father both in height and build. Only my father is taller than them.

  “Here, Lady Eluned. Take my water,” he states, his gloved hand extending a leather pouch.

  I take it with a shaking hand still unsteady from the bout of sickness. “Thank you, Si?n.” My raspy voice forces me to take a moment to clear my throat before speaking again. “I mean, Sir Si?n,” I correct myself promptly, but it doesn’t prevent the heat of a blush from appearing on my cheeks at my mistake. Mared would surely sermon me when the carriage door would close on us.

  My unsteady hands remove the cork of the water pouch and bring the water pouch to my lips. I use the first sip to clean my mouth of the horrid aftertaste of sickness before swallowing a few hesitant sips.

  The cool water appeases my angry stomach ever so slightly, but the knowledge that drinking too much could make me sick once we took the road again forces me to stop. I cork the leather skin and hand it back to the knight.

  He shakes his head. “Keep it, my lady,” he pauses ever so slightly, “for you and your nursemaid. I’ll share water with Sir Caerwyn.”

  I clutch the water pouch against me, tilting my head graciously. “You are too kind, Sir Si?n.” I put the pouch on one of the cabin’s benches and extend a hand to him. “I wish to stretch my legs with the few minutes we have left. If you would be so kind as to help me down…”

  His gloved hand reaches for mine before the last of my words escape my mouth, and a gentle pull helps me get out of the cabin. As I dust off my dress, he helps Mared climb down the carriage. My nursemaid is by my side in an instant, and I wrap my arm around hers with a sigh.

  We start to walk down the stone path, Si?n and Caerwyn silently following behind. My nanny’s voice is barely above a whisper. “The delays do not please the lord. I still have the sleeping draught in the carriage, perhaps it is time we use it.”

  I scrunch my nose in disgust. “You know how I feel about them.” The idea isn’t a pleasant one, but the necessity of it doesn’t escape me. Our progress has been slow, prolonged by me without a doubt. The knights would never complain, but my father would.

  An amused scoff escapes her lips before its corners turn upward into a smile. “It would make the rest of the trip much easier for you. I’m sure your father would approve of the initiative. We could even arrange the cushions as we do at night. One moment the road, the next the capital.”

  Silence is my answer as we continue walking. Nature’s sound is interrupted by a nervous clearing of one of our guard’s throat. Caerwyn without a doubt. His voice confirms it a moment later. “We should head back, Lady Eluned, before Lord Cadfael loses patience.“

  My eyes stay ahead for a brief moment as I resign myself. “Very well,” I whisper as I turn on my heels. I refuse to spare them any glances as I pass in front of them.

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  The path back to the carriage is far too brief. I stop in front of the carriage, dreading the feeling of sickness that will surely come back as soon as we depart again.

  “Get on, Eluned.” My father’s voice leaves no opening for me to negotiate. Not that it would ever stop me.

  “Father-“

  “I said get on.”

  “What if I rode with the coachman?” His brows furrow. Initiative, my nursemaid had suggested. “Only for today.” I attempt to negotiate anyway.

  My father’s composure almost slips before he readjusts his posture, the horse under him bucking slightly. He looks around at his soldiers as he spoke. “Not a word of this when we reach the capital.” He looks at the coachman next. “Watch your manners.”

  My heart swells with relief. Riding at the front of the carriage with the coachman will still bring some nausea, but it could never compare to being in that box of a carriage, no matter how luxurious it is. As I look up at the coachman, I realize the problem I am facing.

  The driver’s box is too high. The small step to climb is lower, yes, but I would need to rake my skirt higher than modesty allows. I could use one of the wheel’s spokes to reach the step, but having walked down the road, my shoes have become dirty and the mud could make my footing slip. In a split second, Si?n is behind me, his voice low as he offers a solution to this problem, as if reading my mind. “Let me help, Lady Eluned.”

  I clutch the water pouch against my chest as I turn to face the knight and take a step back to be closer to the driver’s box. His hands find my waist, and my feet leave the ground before I am gently dropped onto the seating next to the coachman.

  My father looks me up and down as Si?n walks back to his horse. Mared squeezes one of my dangling legs before she strolls her way back inside the carriage, closing the door. I know she will keep the small window open to lurk on any conversation I will have and make a detailed report of any misconduct from the unsuspecting coachman to my father.

  A clucking sound from my father’s mouth prompts his horse to move, and his three hunting dogs bark from excitement at his feet, his guard dog opposes their energy as it stands up calmly. All are ready to follow him, and we start our journey to the capital once again. Si?n jumps back on his horse in a swift move, and the carriage creaks and shakes as the horses set in motion under the command of the coachman. I grip the edge of the coach box with one hand to steady myself while my other hand holds the water pouch on my lap. The last thing I want is to fall and give my father a reason to lock me in the carriage’s cabin for the rest of the trip.

  The knights fall in their assigned spots around the carriage with practiced ease, the dogs roaming around us, all except for my father’s guard dog that stays running at his side.

  Soft morning light makes its way higher in the sky and the temperature rises, but the cover of the trees surrounding the road offers us protection. A grateful feeling grew inside me when I realize I won’t be road sick from riding in the coach-box.

  My stomach growls angrily, and I clutch the water pouch against my stomach in an effort to muzzle the sound. The look from the coachman tells me of my failed attempt.

  I thought he would make no comment on it when his eyes went back to the road ahead, but his hand finds the bag that is hanging on the side of the carriage, fishing out a small bundle covered in cloth that he promptly hands to me. His skin is calloused and dry, not in the way my father and his knights. It catches my attention.

  “We can’t have our little lady hungry so soon, can we?” he whispers with a wink.

  I feel a smile stretch my lips, but before I can open the cloth and discover its hidden treasure, it is snatched off my hand. I turned in my seat to face the culprit. Si?n, holding both the bundle and the rein of his horse in a hand, uses his free hand to pull open the cloth.

  “Si?n,” I murmur, forgetting all polite titles as my eyes dart to my father at the head of our convoy. “Give it back.”

  The knight completely ignores my plea as he brings the bundle closer to his face, not even bothering to correct my lack of use of his new title. He takes a quick sniff before whistling for the dogs, making all the men, including my father, turn on their horses to look at the disturbance. The dogs gather around his horse, making my father frown. “What is the meaning of this, Si?n?”

  Si?n takes a piece of the bundle and throws it at a dog, which catches it mid-flight. “I’m making sure the new coachman isn’t trying to poison your daughter, my lord.” He turns his head to face me, offering me a bow of his head. “If the dog is fine in a couple of minutes, I’ll give it back.”

  I huff. “This is absurd.”

  My father straightens on his horse, focusing back on the road ahead. “Let him do it, Eluned.”

  Words get caught in my throat, I won’t go against my father’s words.. I look at the coachman. “I’m terribly sorry for their behavior.”

  I hear a snort to my side. “I’m not.” Of course he isn’t. Every knight under my father’s command has the same attitude hammered into them. Si?n was unlucky enough to have been born with it. He is a few turns around the orb more than me but even as a child, he had been much more conscious of the world surrounding us. There were very few children at the castle, his father’s rank and his natural protectiveness of those around him had convinced my father to grant him the warden playmate title.

  This title had united our family for a few years. Young Si?n welcomed me at his table, and I welcomed him at my father’s table. When I had my first bleeding at thirteen turns of the orb, my father took away his title for another. He became my father’s squire and my visits to him became sporadic.

  I bury the need to roll my eyes and force a smile on my face for the coachman, whose gaze keeps alternating between me and Si?n. “A Brute. We were both taught manners, yet he seems to have left his at Caer Gwarth.” His face is lacking in colors. Clearly, he is more shocked by the manners of the knights than I thought.

  The man offers me a polite nod. It takes some time for me to coax the coachman back into a pleasant conversation in which I learn he has a wife and five children at the capital. He tells me many stories about his work and the many people he met as a coachman.

  “Have you seen them?” I can’t help but ask.

  “I’ve seen many things, Lady Eluned. You might have to specify.”

  “The draigs, of course!”

  In the middle of his retelling of events, the small bundle reappears in my lap. My eyes leave the coachman just long enough to open it and reveal an oatcake. It is crumbly when I take a piece and bring it to my mouth, but it does well to appease my angry stomach. I briefly wish I had some honey, or some fruit syrup to cover a weird taste of it. I am tempted to ask my nursemaid if there was anything in the carriage but as the conversation carries on, I keep eating without any mention of the bitter taste of the oatcake.