A shriek of joy went up from the stables of Kingsgrave, and the sound immediately made the Lord of the house and several maids bolt for their respective doors. In the past year, shrieks of joy had become an increasingly common occurrence in House Manwoody, and while they always brought a smile to Barlay’s face, they were also a sign that one of his mischievous 1-year-olds was doing something they definitely shouldn’t be, and if it was coming from the stables, it was definitely from-
“Master Kyne!”
“Young Lord!”
He heard the cries before he burst through the wooden doors to see his youngest son, barely past his first birthday, somehow having made his way onto the back of the largest horse in the stables, hugging its neck.
“Door!” Little Kyne commanded happily.
“ABSOLUTELY NOT.” Barlay roared. He wasn’t sure if he should be sad or impressed that the only words his son bothered with so far had been “door” and “hug.” His twin sisters, only months away from him, had already been wildly picking up words, most of which he was fairly certain they did not really understand the meaning of, though they clearly understood each other, whatever they thought the words meant.
The maids were fussing in front of the stable, a couple flapping their arms at the little boy. “Young master, get down!” One of the younger maids fretted. But the older maids were standing to the side. None of them were bold enough to go into the stables, with the dung and hay, and that particular horse was known for its terrible temper when disturbed. How exactly Kyne had gotten the horse to let him on and calmly allow him to stay, Barlay did not know.
He opened the gate just enough to slip inside. The horse harrumphed and jerked backwards, and even that small motion almost bucked the baby on top of him. Barlay jumped forward, but Kyne just laughed and pressed his fat cheek against the horse’s neck. The horse shook its head, but it knew its master, and let Barlay pluck the fat little blob off its back.
Kyne’s little face scrunched up mightily and he howled wordlessly in protest, so loud that the horse brayed and the maids covered their ears. The Lord of House Manwoody frowned at his squirming baby, and dropped him back on the horse. He gave another little squeal of joy and again demanded, “Door!”
“No.” Barlay said, looking straight at him, arms crossed.
The baby scowled at him slightly, then began to wriggle himself down the side of the horse. This was horrifically dangerous, as there was no way a 1-year-old was dexterous enough to climb safely off a horse. Barlay hastily scooped him away from the horse and placed him on the ground after some expressive wiggling. The next thing he knew, his little red-haired baby was scooting across the hay-covered, splintery wooden floor on all fours, faster than he could’ve imagined a 1-year-old could crawl before he’d had five children of his own. He scooted right underneath the fence door – confirming to Barlay that he needed to stuff the bottom of the doors – and was shooting along to another stall in no time. The younger maids gave little yelps as Kyne passed right by their petticoats, but they didn’t bother trying to stop him, as he made it to another horse, a tamer mare this time.
By the time Barlay had caught up to him, Kyne had already gotten the mare to sit down and was splayed out on its back. He looked up at his dad as Barlay walked in yet again, and shouted insistently, “Door!”
Barlay crouched down in front of him next to the horse, looked the little boy right in his blue-grey eyes, and very clearly said, “No.”
He grabbed Kyne, put him on one shoulder and raced out of the stables, trying to be fast enough to drop him in his crib before the kid figured out just how loudly he wanted to express his displeasure.