Free The Scarecrow King: A Romantic Retelling of the King Thrushbeard Fairy Tale by Jill Myles

pain shot up my legs.
    “You all right?”
    “I’m not all right. I can barely walk,” I gritted, pushing his hands away as soon as my feet touched the ground. “Quit touching me.”
    I expected him to make some lascivious comment about my stiffness – any flirtatious courtier would jump on it, offer to massage me. Men propositioned my sister all the time, who laughingly flirted back. But to my surprise, he did not say a thing about it.
    “Follow me and we’ll pick out a nice spot.” He said, taking the horse by the bridle and leading it into the forest.
    I trailed behind him, watching his shoulders as he moved into the tall trees. The sun would be down shortly, so I made sure to keep pace behind him. Ferns and small shrubs and thick grasses littered the forest floor, some of them covered in flowers. It was all very…woodsy. And horrid.
    “This looks like a good spot,” Aleksandr said, and tethered the horse to a low hanging tree branch. “Just stay here and I’ll set up camp.”
    This was the spot? For what?
    I stood next to the horse, idly petting its neck as Aleksandr moved around the spot he’d chosen as ‘camp.’ First he gathered some wood, and returned with a small pile that he arranged after clearing a rocky section near the roots of a large tree. He unhooked the pack from his back and began to pull out a variety of items. I watched with curious interest as he clanged flint against his knife, sparking against tinder to make a flame. Once the fire was going, he began to set up a tent, whistling as he did so.
    When he was finished, I eyed the tent. It was so…small. Barely more than a square of ugly fabric held off the ground by two sticks. Aleksandr took the blanket off of the horse’s back and shook it out, then laid it on the ground in the tent, then smiled at me. “Your bed, milady.”
    I wanted to cry at the sight of it. “That’s where we’re sleeping?”
    I could have sworn Aleksandr blushed. “Well, not both of us,” he said. “I’ll stay awake and manage the fire. You can sleep.” He shrugged off his cloak and handed it to me.
    Sleep? On the ground? That did it. Frustration and anger welled up inside me, to the point that I wanted to scream. “No! This–this is ridiculous!” I threw down the cloak he’d offered. “Are you insane?”
    “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
    I gestured at the meager campsite. “This! This ridiculousness! I had a fortune’s worth of clothing! You gave it away! Why did you give it away?”
    “Did you see all the poor people in Threshold?”
    I really didn’t see what difference it made. “Of course I saw them. It’s impossible not to see them everywhere.”
    Aleksandr picked up the cloak I had tossed away and brushed it off with his fingers. “They needed your wealth far more than we do. You could see the desperation in their eyes – some of them didn’t know where their next meal was coming from. I wanted to help them.”
    I didn’t know where our next meal was coming from. “That’s ridiculous. Why not help us instead? You would rather live as thieves in the wilderness?”
    He gave me a sunny smile and leaned in, as if sharing a secret. “We’re not thieves…we’re minstrels. I have a flute for you in my pack.”
    “I’m going to ram that flute down your throat,” I yelled, fists clenched.
    Aleksandr did not lose his calm. He simply put another log onto the fire and ignored me.
    “How can you sit there in the middle of the woods like this and expect me to sleep here? There’s no roof! There’s no bed!” I gestured at the tent. “I wouldn’t let the lowest servant sleep on that poor excuse for a camp, and you expect me to? I am a–”
    “Princess. Yes, I know,” he said, a hint of weariness in his voice. He poked the fire once more and stood. “And I regret that you are so very unhappy, dear lady, but it is beyond my control. If we were near an inn, I would take you to one. If we were near my home, we’d ride