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"Dust, come on!"

Dewy grass slipped beneath me as I ran barefoot after Sirius, sliding around the stable and catching a glimpse of bright red hair before he slipped into darkness. I scoffed, stopping just before the mildew warmth of the stable, careful to keep my feet firmly on the grass as I poked my head in and wrinkled my nose.

"You come out here."

"No!"

"I am not going in there barefoot. Stendarr knows what I could step on."

"Use a spell, then! You have to come in here!"

I groaned, folding my arms and whispering a spell to lift my feet from the earth even as I retorted. "I can't use magicka for everything, you know."

"Sure 'ya can. You're a Breton, right?" Came the reply, sharp and wry. I smiled, imagining the crooked smile he would have. "All you're good for. Now, come on. Plans to work on."

"Right." I slipped inside, grimacing even with my feet safely floating inches above the muck. The smell of horse and straw carried its own charm, the dim glow of sunlight streaking through cracks and the gentle snuff from horses lulling. I paused, moving to a new foal with wide eyes and stroking her velvety muzzle as she whickered. "What's this one named, Sirius?"

"Aye?" I glanced until I caught a flicker of movement, and watched him move close out of the corner of my eye. He shrugged, scratching his head and scuffing a filthy boot "Dunno. Pretty filly, though. Week old, I think. Careful, her mum doesn't like you."

"Oh." I frowned, drawing back reluctantly from the sweet foal to glance nervously at the mare beside her stall, lip raised and teeth bared. "Sorry."

"Me or the horse?" Sirius laughed, grinning wide before pulling me further inside. "C'mere."

I followed him, careful to keep my spell going as I gingerly moved. We made a strange pair - he, a teenage stableboy, and I, a noble child, but we were steadfast friends. He was too old to consider me anything but a younger sister, and I was too young to care for him in any other way, but I still jealously hid him from Anya as she sought out men of her own. We were terribly different, at that age. Sirius once, in a romantic sort of mood and fancying himself a poet, said I was a foal. On shaky legs, wide-eyed, a head too big for my body. I certainly felt like it.

"Up here." We entered the barn, where scratchy piles of gold straw tempted and iron tools hung rusting from nails. I shook off my spell as we stepped on straw, brushing my feet and giggling at its tickle before following his movement. He perched on a ladder, glancing down with a frown. "Come on, filly."

I sighed, heaving myself up and grimacing as my dress bunched around my knees. "Why can't I wear what you wear?"

"Princesses don't wear mucking clothes."

"I'm not a princess," I grumbled, pulling myself onto the little ledge overlooking the barn. We nestled in the hay like hidden birds, safe and secret from the world. Straw crinkled and cracked pleasantly as I settled, smiling. "What do you have to tell me?"

"Not telling you anything." He raised a brow, tapping me on the nose with a smile. "We're thinking of something. A plan."

"For what?"

"To get you out of princess lessons tomorrow." He hummed to himself, leaning back and glancing over his fingers. "To distract Lady Toltette, sneak into her private quarters, and - "

"I'm not a princess." I growled, my eyes going wide as his words sank in. "Mum's private...? Why?"

"Curiosity. Rumors." His smile dimmed, eyes narrowing into jade slits. "You with me?"

"You aren't telling me anything." I frowned, twisting my hands in my lap. "It's a bad idea, Sirius. If mum or Toltette catches you - "

"Well, hey." He shrugged. "Thass fine. Go to your lessons. I hear Tucket is talking to you about the birds and the bees tomorrow."

"Oh, disgusting!" I wrinkled my nose, caught in a fit of giggles. Sirius and Anya had told me more than enough, and thinking about Miss Tucket - I squirmed just to think of it. "So, let me guess. If I help you, you'll get me out of it?"

"You're learning, filly."

...Fine." I laughed nervously, tucking my legs and scrunching the folds of my skirts, trying to ignore the sense of dread hot and sickly at the back of my throat. "How?"

"Easy." He smirked, idly picking at his teeth with a braid of straw. "Like they do in stage fights. You know those berries by the gardens, the red ones?"

"Yeah." I frowned. "Why?"

"Grab a bunch. How do ye... con... congale 'em? Make the juice thick?"

"Congeal. Wormwood should make it seize up. Why, Sirius?"

"Cos we're gonna fake you falling, filly." Sirius drawled, casting me a glance with a raised brow. "The juice'll seem like blood. Keep it in your mouth, aye? Pretend to fall down the stairs. Tucket sees you bleeding, I'll offer to take you to the healer, and you're free as a spring magpie."

"What?" I scoffed, sliding down the hay and leaping onto my feet. "No. That's idiotic. Miss Tucket isn't stupid, she'd want to see a wound."

"Not if it just looks like you broke a few teeth. See?" He bared his lip like a horse, revealing two missing teeth. "You just lost one, right? So it'll look like you knocked it out."

"Why don't I just fake sick?"

"She caught you last time, filly."

I grumbled, grimacing as I remembered why I'd agreed to skip her lessons. "Her lecture alone could make me sick."

"Then come. It'll work, I swear. Cross my heart."

We argued until a cowbell clanked , calling the servants to their meal. Sirius flashed me a cheeky grin as I sighed and relented. "Atta girl. Trust me, we're gonna find adventure. Secrets." He hopped down beside me, smirking and giving me a pinch. "Better than 'if a boy ever touches you' talk, right?"

I couldn't resist laughing - his high-pitched, frenzied mimic was uncanny. "Right. Au revoir, Sirius."

"Aye, princess." I caught only final glimpse of vermillion hair before he was gone, racing down the field to the servant's rooms. I sighed, uselessly smoothing my dress and blinking in sapphire sunlight as I made my way home.

"Gabriel Toltette, there you are!" I cringed at a familiar shriek, gingerly looking up to see Miss Tucket huffing down the path. "What have you - covered in straw, barefoot -"

"Yes, Miss Tucket. Sorry."

"Like a little piglet!" She continued, triumphantly grabbing my sleeve and dragging me back to the house as though I'd never meant to return in the first place. "Oh, your mother will be horrified. You'll be the death of me yet, missy."

With all the venom of an annoyed thirteen year old girl, I crossed my fingers and half-hoped I'd prove her right.