Gold as a Yellow Mare [https://i.imgur.com/7lA9VRy.png]
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Why was there a horse in the throne room?
And why had it been painted yellow?
The older of the two brothers, Arthur, could only stare in disbelief at the thing. The mare looked around aimlessly, taking in neither room's beauty nor the significance of its sudden being there. It was an ordinary horse beyond its brilliantly yellow coat. Admittedly, the thing was the lesser of two concerns in Arthur's mind; his younger brother, Uriel, was strolling his way with more pep in his cheerful step than usual, and that unsettled the older prince.
"You bought a... yellow horse?" Arthur stared into the animal's wide, thoughtless eyes.
"She's gold, actually, and yes," Uriel said.
"That's yellow."
"Gold, and a beauty at that!"
Arthur's eyes flicked between beast and man. "Mother told you to get something for the festival. I hope this isn't it."
"I'll ride her through the crowd. It'll look so good." Uriel brushed the horse's cropped coat. His white glove turned the tone of wheat. Arthur noticed. Uriel noticed.
"Mother gave you a hundred thousand gold—how much was this?" Arthur said, pointing to the mare.
It licked the marble floor and turned its head away in disgust.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
"Only ninety," Uriel said.
"Ninety gold...?"
The mare sneezed a great splotch onto Uriel's trouser leg. The velvet was doomed. "Ninety thousand gold."
Arthur choked on nothing. He choked on nothing hard. It was a small blessing his younger brother would never sit on the throne, much less wield executive power over their citizens—assuming Uriel's antics didn't drive Arthur to an early grave. The scholars would lament that. The people would lament that.
"You spent ninety thousand of mother's gold—"
"The Queen, Arthur. She's the Queen," Uriel half-chided, the humour of their tutor.
"Ninety thousand on a yellow horse!"
"She's gold."
"Look at it!" Arthur pointed with both hands. "Were you sold it by a peddler in the dark? Did they make you close your eyes! It's yellow! If it were made of gold, I could understand! I would still hate it, but I could understand—but it's not! It's been dyed yellow! Ninety thousand gold!"
Uriel paused. "Well, I like her."
"You were supposed to buy an outfit for the festival." Arthur felt his brain pop the way brains shouldn’t pop. It was fortunate he'd been taught, in his kingly preparation, to show restraint. It would be most unsuitable for the future monarch to launch himself at his brother with strangling rage as the ball forming in his stomach threatened to. The elder prince swallowed that bitter pit and breathed. "Go and speak to the tailor. Get her to make you something... airy, with lots of embroidery."
"What about my fair maiden?" Uriel said.
"Your what?"
Uriel slapped the horse's rump and it perked up with a chuff. Its eyes held no secrets.
"J-Just... put her in the stables—no! Leave her here! I'll do it. Get an outfit made, before others see you like this." Arthur pointed to the snot still running down his brother's leg.
"Whatever you say, Your Majesty."
"Don't call me that," Arthur said.
"Does it make you feel old?" Uriel spoke over his shoulder.
Before Arthur could teach him exactly how young of body he was, Uriel had strolled from the throne room in search of their overworked tailor. The older prince bit his tongue to dampen his brother's flame.
Restraint. The sport of kings.
The sunset mare watched her master wander away, turned to Arthur, and snorted in his direction. The prince shot black a glare, like it were an unruly servant or discourteous noble.
But it was just gold as a yellow mare.