The King frowned at them, the younger girls clutching Azalea’s skirts and only just peeking out at Dickens, who pawed and sent great puffs into the air. The King sucked in his cheeks, gave a short nod, and urged Dickens into a gallop.
Moments later, as the girls breathed sighs of relief, the King turned Dickens about and streaked toward them. They cried out and backed against the stone wall. Leaning down from the saddle, the King reached out his arm, and whisked Hollyhock up as he galloped past. Hollyhock let out a brilliant scream.
Azalea gaped as the King pulled Hollyhock onto the saddle in front of him, keeping his arm tightly about her waist. Her screams turned to laughter. The King cantered around the meadow three times and pulled to a halt in front of the girls. Hollyhock slid from the horse, dizzy, but with a huge, delighted grin on her freckled face.
“We went so fast!” she said.
In a bustle of black skirts and scarves, the girls begged for a turn. The King obliged. He scooped each girl onto his saddle and galloped about the meadow. Eve, Delphinium, Ivy, and the twins each had a chance, clutching to Dickens’s mane as Dickens cantered beneath them. Jessamine clutched the King’s neck and buried her head in his waistcoat, only peeking out with one bright blue eye. Clover and Bramble even had a ride, but only, they insisted, because they held Kale and Lily, and the little ones should have a turn. Bramble grinned, albeit bashfully, as she slid off the horse, Kale in her arms.
“Miss Azalea,” said the King, holding his hand down to her.
“No, thank you,” said Azalea.
The King frowned, but pushed Dickens into a snow-churning gallop. Two seconds later, Dickens streaked toward her and the King leaned down, his arm out. Azalea hardly had a moment to realize what he was doing when she felt a thumpf!, and blues and whites whorled around her as her throat tried to jump out of her mouth, and the King hoisted her onto the saddle.
When the world stopped twisting around her, Azalea tried to slip out of the King’s grip and back onto solid ground.
“I don’t like riding!” she said.
“If you didn’t squirm so, you would like it better,” said the King. “Don’t dismount now! You’ll break your head!”
He galloped Dickens to the side, into the long blue shadows of the trees, pulled back, and dismounted. Azalea was left alone on the saddle, clutching Dickens’s mane.
“Try it alone now,” he said. “I taught you when you were six. You were a fine little rider then. Do you remember?”
“No!” said Azalea.
“You remembered how to ride last winter,” said the King quietly. He had his arms crossed. “You rode very well, one night last winter, if I remember.”
The horse beneath Azalea shifted, and she clutched to keep her balance.
“That was nearly a year ago,” she stammered.
“Some things are burned into one’s memory.”
The King helped her down gently onto solid ground, and didn’t say another word. Later, in the straw-smelling stables, the King made all the girls help feed and brush the horses. The girls took turns with the brushes, and Flora and Goldenrod even found some sugar cubes in their apron pockets. They squealed with laughter when Dickens nosed their cupped hands.
“Where did you learn that, sir?” said Azalea, as the King tended to the other horses. “To snatch us up like that, while you were galloping?”
“Ah.” The King threw the blanket over Thackeray. “Regiment practice. It is an old tradition, from the revolution. They say the rebellion—the cavalry—burst through the windows, thorns, and vines, and scooped up the prisoners from the magicked palace. Romanticized, of course. It is tradition, however, so we practice it. On sacks of wheat and potatoes.”
Azalea smiled. “I hadn’t heard that, sir.”
The King smoothed the blanket on Thackeray’s back. He opened his mouth, and shut it. Then he opened it again, and after a moment, said, “You used to call me Papa, do you remember that?”
The question took Azalea back.
“No,” she said.
The King frowned. Azalea hastily revised.
“I mean,” she said. “Papa…well…it doesn’t really suit you. I’ve never felt it does. The girls, too. I only remember calling you sir. As such.”
The King sucked in his cheeks and tugged on the ends of the blanket, straightening it. He did not say anything. The smell of horse suddenly felt overwhelming.
A cry of delight broke the tension, and Azalea gratefully ducked into the main aisle. Hollyhock, who had been digging through old saddle satchels hanging from pegs, had found something hidden in an aside saddle. The girls flocked about her, oohing.
She clutched a jet brooch in her freckled hand. A tiny bit of worn silver rimmed it, and the glass caught the golden lamp highlights of the stables. Azalea bit back a gasp.
“That’s Mother’s!” she said, delighted. “All her things aren’t locked up!”
“She must have put it in the satchel,” said Eve. “Maybe she was afraid to lose it.”
“She…used to wear it all the—the time,” said Clover. “Just…here.” She touched the top button of her collar.