Be Gay, Do Crimes: Ros Vs Everything, Apparently

sorry boys, the only "d" I crave is degeneracy

"Look, boys! How quaint." says Ros, leaning back on the pommel of her saddle. "The rabble."

Marcus and Chinhae both turn from fussing over their own horses, and follow her gaze to the rider at the end of the woodland path.

"Is that who I think that is?" asks Marcus flatly.

"Your future brother in law? Yes."

Marcus stares, aghast, at his sister. Ros sighs.

"Kidding, Mark. Yes, it's Gerald."

"How did he find us?" asks Chinhae, urging his horse over to stand with Rosalind's. Rosalind shrugs.

"Beats me."

She thinks she's supposed to be flattered. That's what that stupid book said, anyhow. What was it called? A Good Princess's Guide to Courting and Marriageability, that was it. Ugh. Her mother had recoiled just as hard as Ros herself when Lady Dinsmore had slid it over the table to her, with the suggestion that it would give you an advantage over all the other princesses when you go to the School for Good!

Ros didn't think it would give anyone anything, except maybe a headache. She'd read it, though, and the finger-wagging, simpering tone had lodged firmly in her brain;

Chapter 2: The Arrival of Suitors

Suitors arriving is an exciting time in a young Princess's life! However, you should receive all their attentions with dignity and grace, not girlish excitement. A true Princess should remain inscrutable until she has definitely decided on a favourite. Do not give a boy false hope!

Well, she definitely hadn't given Gerald any false hope. The cold shoulder and lots of excuses, sure, but no false hope. He'd manifested that himself.

She stares vaguely in his direction, wondering what to do about him. He's a very showy rider. Going much faster than he ought to, and not paying proper attention, in favour of staring over at her...

"--surprised he's come alone, honestly." Marcus is saying. Ros turns back to them.

"Yeah, he could have at least brought one of Chinhae's poets with him."

Chinhae looks uncomfortable.

"My mother made sure none of them followed us here." he says, but he looks a little uncertain.

Ros frowns.

"I thought they just manifested, wherever you were. Like flies on a dead body."

"That's an awful comparison."

"Erm," interrupts Marcus, "Are we just letting him come over?"

Ros turns to see Gerald approaching more rapidly. His stupid square head with its swirl of gelled hair is becoming more distinct.

"No." She says. "We've been called back onto the castle on urgent business." She turns her horse towards the bridleway, deliberately not looking Gerald's way. "Mark, our old man's got another grey hair. He needs our emotional support in this trying time. Come on, boys."

---

It's not long until they can hear an extra pair of hooves approaching rapidly behind them.

"Speed up." Says Ros thinly.

"He's going to work out we're running away." Points out Marcus, keeping up easily with her. Horsemanship is his one and only athletic talent, probably because it doesn't actually require any brute strength, of which he is somewhat lacking. Ros thinks that if he's a good rider, he should try jousting. Everyone else, including Marcus himself, thinks he shouldn't.