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As they came near the end of the trail, Karolis guided his horse down to a walk, though it was barely breathing hard. The little patch of forest behind his father's palace was a carefully tended thing, imitation wilderness brought to heel for their benefit. It was convenient enough, but so often his blood ached for more-- to ride and hunt as he had been made to, without constraint and limitation.
By his side, Mirnatius reined in his horse, following his lead, and Karolis glanced over. His little brother looked more lathered than his horse did. For days now there had been a strange hunted wildness in his eyes, one familiar to Karolis from other pursuits; one that glinted eerily foreign on his brother's pretty scholar's face. He had hoped that the ride would help him settle into his place, as it sometimes had when they both were younger, but perhaps they had each outgrown that in their own ways. It would have to be words, then.
"It won't be so bad as all that," he said, reaching out and cuffing Mirnatius lightly on the shoulder. "I've been married for years now, and it hasn't killed me yet."
That startled a laugh out of Mirnatius; he shook his head, then let go of the reins with one hand to smooth his hair back. "And I thank God for that every day," he said, with a certain amount of sarcasm. Enough that it might have gotten him in trouble, if there had been anyone about to hear it and make gossip.
It was a dangerous subject, and always had been, with Mirnatius looking like he did-- cast in the image of some golden prince, made to steal magic horses and run away with kingdoms, and not a bit like their father. Karolis had warned him off it before, after murmurs in certain corners of the court had gotten loud enough that their father had taken notice, if only unofficially, complaining about it to Karolis himself over wine in the evening. "Thank Him quietly, then."
"It seems I must." Mirnatius laughed again; quieter this time, lanced through with bitterness. "Did you hear? They won't have me in the monastery."
Karolis had not heard; had not even heard that Mirnatius had sought out a priest to ask such a thing. That was good, in that he couldn't imagine the rage it would have driven their father to if Mirnatius had managed to disobey his command to find a wife and be done with it in such spectacular and irrevocable fashion. And it was bad, in that he couldn't imagine what would have driven Mirnatius to seek such a thing except the desire to send their father into patricidal apoplexy. It wasn't as if he'd ever shown any sign of holy calling; surely Karolis, of all people, would have known if he had.
Reaching out, he caught Mirnatius's reins and pulled them both to a sudden halt. Mirnatius stared back at him like a cornered dog. "What are you playing at?" Karolis said.
Mirnatius yanked at the reins; Karolis held them fast; the horses stamped restlessly, snorting in confusion and distrust until Mirnatius dropped his hand and turned his face away, staring off into the silent forest. "What do I want with a wife?" he said finally. Karolis had thought him bitter before, but there was nothing else in him, now. "A pretty little empty-headed bird, just as useless as I am, to sit side by side in a gilded cage, being prodded by all the fools at court, until her father decides to use me against you to put his grandsons on the throne. And you know it will happen as well as I do, Karolis. But you know I don't want to be tsar, no matter what all those idiots say about me, about... You know I'm not like-- I'm not-- I wouldn't--"
Karolis crowded their horses together, getting flicked with an irritated tail for his trouble, to get close enough to take Mirnatius by the shoulder and shake him, violently. "Shut up," he said, and Mirnatius shut up. "I know it. But you don't say any of it out loud. Not ever. Not even out here."
"The horses would know if someone was in earshot," Mirnatius said.
"I don't care about the damned horses. Father wants you well out of the way, but he doesn't want you dead. Not yet. You can't push him any further, Mirnatius. Do you understand me?" There was sullen silence. "I don't want you dead. But there's only so much I can do to convince him that gossip is only gossip; that when you disobey it's because you're still a spoiled brat, not because you're working some grand secret conspiracy against him. Do you understand me?"
Mirnatius swallowed hard, so hard Karolis could see his throat work. At some point, his gaze had dropped from the trees to the saddle below him. "I understand," he said.
It was impossible to tell if he did. Karolis supposed it didn't really matter, so long as he stopped playing the fool about it. "If you don't want an empty-headed girl, marry a clever one," he said. "There must be one out there to suit you; you have all of Lithvas to choose from. Go and find some little boyar's daughter and claim she's the most beautiful girl in all the world and you must have her and only her, for all I care. But choose one."
Mirnatius nodded jerkily, a puppet on strings. Karolis turned loose of his horse again and kicked his own into a walk. His back crawled with the stress of it; his hands ached to take his anger and irritation out on something properly. That would have to wait, as this could not have done.
After a long moment, he heard Mirnatius speak to his horse, the thudding hoofbeats as he made up the distance between them at a trot. "I've decided," Mirnatius said quietly.