I had never tried to ride a greased pig, for that was lunacy. And the poor pig. Why would anyone do such a thing to an animal? It was bad enough they were raised only to be slaughtered and eaten. Forcing that indignity on them?

But I wished True had stories of something that was fun (even if it was also lunacy).

“Farah?” True interrupted my thoughts.

“Mars and I played at the paints,” I shared suddenly.

“The paints?”

“Bows with arrows tipped in small bags filled with cotton saturated in paint. If an arrow struck you, it stung, but did not wound. What it did do was brand you with a splotch of paint. I beat him. Often. It made him very angry.”

True chuckled. “I can imagine.”

I looked to True. “Did you do something like that?”

He nodded.

I was heartened.

“I began my archery practice at six,” he stated.

I felt my face fall. “Your archery practice?”

“Mother desired I hit a bulls-eye by seven. I achieved that.”

I was in no doubt.

I looked again forward but then twisted and scowled behind me at Alfie.

True’s captain was serious-minded.

He was also smart.

I had a feeling he was understanding my scowl for his gaze darted to True before he returned my scowl and the sentiment behind it.

“Is something amiss?” True asked as I righted myself in the saddle, and I glanced out the sides of my eyes to see him looking back at Alfie.

“No,” I lied.

“Why do you look at Alfie?”

I did not want to lie again.

Therefore, I didn’t.

“It does not seem you had much of a childhood.”

I didn’t know if True desired to answer, but it didn’t matter for I forged on.

“Or adulthood, for that matter.”

“I don’t understand.”

I looked to True. “Tell me one story where you had fun.”

“Fun?”

By the gods.

My heart lurched for it appeared he didn’t even understand the word.

“Fun, True,” I said softly. “Something silly or trivial or frivolous that had no reason but to make you laugh or make you happy.”

“I’m taking you to see The Doors.”

“That doesn’t count.”

He turned his attention forward, but I could see he felt awkward.

And I immediately felt badly.

“I do not wish to—” I began.

“When I was younger, whenever we visited Bower Manor, or her parents brought her to the castle, I would play hide and seek with Silence. She was wicked good at it. I could search for hours and not find her, and I would swear, when I did, she made herself be seen because she felt pity on me.”

“That’s lovely, I think,” I murmured.

“I’m eight years older than her, and for the most part, it was felt I was looking after her while the adults did adult things.”

“It’s still lovely.”