Chapter 20 #2
“For my future queen? Of course.” She gives Min a conspiratorial look. “Do you think I need to warn her that it won’t poison fae?”
I chuckle. “Not planning to poison anyone with it. It just has… interesting effects for humans in a light enough dose.”
“Since Threnn told me you’ve been in here for hours, I’m going to guess you know what that dose is, so I have no problem ordering our next raiding party to get some.
You should take a look in the library—there’s a section on plants.
But”—she spreads her arms—“I didn’t come here for pretty flowers.
I have something to show you.” With a jerk of her chin, she has us follow.
Since she refuses to tell us more, we head outside, skirt the fortress’s central buildings where the living accommodation and Great Hall are and arc around to the stables.
I let Asti and Min fall a little behind to give them some privacy and try not to eavesdrop, though the latter remains uncharacteristically quiet.
It turns out the king has had a dozen horses delivered from breeders in another kingdom.
“Although our horses require less feed than those on the surface, it’s easier to breed in the other kingdoms where they have pasture and hay, then bring them across the border,” Asti explains, stroking the nose of a pale stallion with a luminous coat as we pass his stall.
“Though it costs His Majesty a pretty penny.”
“So… it’s not winter in all the kingdoms?” It looks like I was right about the smear of green on the horizon.
I cock my head as we stop at a stall with a slate-gray gelding—if I remember rightly this coloring is called a blue roan. Though I don’t think on the surface their flecked fur glints like it’s made of steel and silver.
“Not all the time, no.”
Yet more about this strange season I make a mental note to write up into the notebook currently sitting in my pocket. The gelding pokes his head over the stable door and nudges me. “No carrots here, I’m afraid.” To soften the bad news, I stoke the flat plane of his cheek, and he leans into me.
“Can I ask how the future queen’s Fatework lessons are going?” Asti gives me a sidelong look as she pets the horse in the next stall.
I share a glance with Min. I haven’t been told the lessons are a secret exactly, but I get the impression they aren’t to be talked about.
She widens her eyes in silent answer, as unsure as me.
Asti grins. “Kishel is my uncle. He didn’t tell me any details, but he said he’d had a chance to spend time with you. I put two and two together.”
My face screws up as I fuss the gelding, who seems to love the attention as he presses his great head into me.
“It’s not really going.” That’s probably more information than I should give—an admission of failing and thus weakness to the unseelie.
But Asti feels safe. She has done from the start.
And I have no doubt the king has ordered Kishel to report to him, so it’s not as if she can go and give him new information.
“Not yet, anyway,” I add with a hopeful smile.
“Probably because I’m human. I’m sure it’s just going to take longer—that’s all. ”
Thank the gods I can lie.
I’m fairly sure it’s a case of no magic, no Fatework.
“I don’t think my uncle’s taught a human before.
He probably needs to try some new methods.
” She shrugs and I’m this close to hugging her for her kindness.
Before I can, she pulls three pieces of carrot out of her pocket and hands them to me, then gestures to the gelding. “What do you think of him, then?”
Hand as flat as possible, thumb tucked in, like she showed me on my lesson, I feed the horse before he can knock me over. “He’s very enthusiastic—at least when it comes to scratches and food.”
She chuckles. “Well, don’t worry about that—he’s going to be a lot calmer when it comes to riding.”
I nod as he lips the last piece carrot from my palm, his whiskers tickling.
“You do realize he’s yours, right? A gift from the king.”
I look up. Blink at her. “Oh. Oh.” A horse of my own. “So we’re allowed to continue our lessons?”
“I’d say His Majesty is encouraging it.”
At least that gives me something to look forward to when I’m not working my way through the labyrinth. Asti is good company, and I’m sure I’ll be able to invite Min on more of our lessons—for practical, non-matchmaking reasons of course.
Just as I’m smiling to myself, a bang shakes through the stables, making the gelding toss his head and whicker.
In the stall opposite, a coppery-red horse rolls its eyes, ears flicking back. Chestnut, I remember they called that color in the book.
“Pay him no attention.” Asti purses her lips. “He’s been temperamental since he arrived. But he’ll settle down soon enough.”
As if to prove her wrong, he kicks the wall again.
“Perhaps we should…” Min gestures toward the exit.
“Give him some peace. Right.”
I’m glad to get away from the chestnut gelding. He seems as pissed off about being here as I was when I arrived.
Before we reach the double doors leading to the yard, one of the stalls ahead opens and out steps Phaedra, dressed in midnight-blue riding leathers, sapphire eyes fixing on me at once as she leads a magnificent black stallion.
She gives me a smile as sharp and narrow as a razor blade as she passes us and leaves.
I swallow and hang back. “Shit.”
Min waits with me, gesturing for Asti to continue outside. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you think Phaedra heard me?” This stall is only a couple of doors from the blue roan, and it would explain her smile. I can just hear it in her voice: Drystan’s future queen fails at Fatework.
Min narrows her eyes after the beautiful fae, mouth pressing to a thin line. “No, I think you’re safe. She wouldn’t have been able to resist making some snide comment if she’d overheard.”
I don’t know Phaedra well, but that certainly seems like her style.
“Besides…” She shrugs and leans in with a tentative smile—not the overly bright thing she usually puts on. “I have a feeling your Fatework woes are only temporary.” She lifts her chin, and her mouth widens into a grin.
It’s one of the most delightful things I’ve ever seen, and it makes total sense on her face, making her eyes light up, crinkling around the scar on her cheek.
“And,” she says, hand closing around my shoulder and squeezing, “I can’t wait for you to prove Phaedra Asterlin absolutely, utterly, world-consumingly, ego-crushingly wrong.”