Quiet Power #2
Which must mean… The Sheik himself came out, saw all of this—patched fences, no guards, mismatched everything—and st ill decided to leave his crown jewel here.
I don’t say anything. I don’t need to. Azaan is a ghost from another world—one I couldn’t even buy a day pass to, let alone belong in. That horse moves like poetry and costs more than my net worth. And yet, here he stands. In the middle of nowhere.
Mind-blowing, I gotta admit.
But…
Wait, just—
I stop walking, take off my sunglasses to properly rub my eyes and get some mental energy back. Rey stops too, a few steps away, and faces me.
“What about my horse?” I blurt out. If it took Azaan months before even starting… “What if he gets here and the Whisperer decides he isn’t ready?”
“Then ya wait,” Rey says like it’s simple. “And ya keep showing up until he is.”
Wait? That’s it?
What kind of world does she live in?
No, I… I can’t wait indefinitely. This hellhole is a fucking vacation resort for horses; why would any horse ever want to do anything other than laze around in the shade?
Fuck—my chest hurts. I rub at the sternum while pretending to adjust my duffel’s strap. “That can’t happen. I need results.”
She gets closer, studies me from behind the thick, unreadable lenses of her glasses. “Ya see, Golden Boy, we—”
“Don’t call me that!” Shit… Didn’t mean it to sound like a tantrum. I breathe deep and steady, but it barely helps.
“Cassian,” she corrects. It helps a bit.
“We got folks waitlisted for foals that ain’t born yet, just for the chance to get on his schedule, of grabbing a lucky spot that may never even open ‘cause it all depends on the progress of the ones already here.
Takes time ‘n patience. Ya just gotta accept that from day one.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, then—”
“I’ll clock you, kid. It’s Rey.”
Another deep breath I try to deliver as simply a tired sigh.
“Then how am I here, Rey?” For a second, I hope that’s all she needs to make it make sense, but I’m too wired to stop.
“I don’t know how long this… arrangement has been on the pipeline, but surely there are others desperate for that lucky spot. ”
“Oh, plenty, yeah.”
“But I’m here. With a horse I never even met, by the way, and I’m supposed to get him competition-ready in under six months.” Instantly, I regret saying it out loud, but I can’t dwell on it. “And you’re saying we got in on merit? That there was no money sliding under the table?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Her tone is so soft it’s getting on my nerves.
“Out of all the stress injuries, the mental breakdowns, the track accidents,” I double down. “The devil stallion and Golden Boy legacy pairing is the most messed-up one. Straight to the top of the list. Wow.”
I bite my lip so I stop talking, to keep from growling at the way she’s smiling at me. Like she knows me? Fuck that.
Then calmly, like the leaves in the trees, she says, “I’ve been flown first-class to every continent by people who didn’t believe it, like you don’t. That such a gold mine as a place that gets horses right, would give away all the gold for the sake of those horses.”
I snort despite myself, then hide it behind a cough.
As if anyone would exchange fame and fortune for broken animals who may never heal right.
“But here we are. And that gray mare next to Azaan?” Rey points.
Haven’t noticed her before, unremarkable next to a Sheik’s horse, but now they’re trading sniffs over the fence.
“That’s Tempestad. Belongs to the teenage daughter of a butcher ‘n a schoolteacher, from a small town in South America. Every day, those two eat the same oats, drink the same water.”
“Meaning?” I bite back just because I’m getting fed up with this whole kumbaya as medicine shit.
Rey doesn’t fray, though. “Meaning it don’t matter where ya came from or how messed up you arrived. You’re here now ‘cause your horse needs this place. And maybe ya need it too, just don’t think for a second your titles got ya through the gate.”
That one stung—not cruelly, but cleanly. The kind of truth that leaves no bruise, just a mark you can’t ignore.
“And don’t think you get to stay either. Ya prove yourself same way your horse will. With time. With sweat. With trust.” Her voice lowers just a fraction. “We’ll see what ya got when your stallion gets here.”
Then I flinch. Radio static, booming from one of her vest pockets.
“Rey. Rey. Walter.”
Rey moves with practical experience, slipping a small two-way radio directly to her mouth. “Go for Rey.”
“Scheduled arrival. Ten minutes.”
“Oh, speak of the devil.” She tells me, then to the radio, “10-4. Get Fiona on final sweep, please. I’m coming.”
“Got it. Should I get the boss?”
“Yeah, just passed him on pen number three. Should still be there.”
Wait, we passed the boss? The Whisperer? Where?
There were a few people doing maintenance as we walked—a couple were old guys, I think? Dammit, wasn’t paying attention.
When she’s done, Rey stores the radio back into a pocket and lifts her sunglasses, eyes me with intent again. “Moment of truth. I gotta know who you are. For real.”
“What? Like I’m a spy or something?”
“Cassian or Golden Boy,” she adds. “’Cause one was being delightful, then the other popped up being a dickhead.” I huff and shake my head as she smiles. “No pressure, the one you choose to be while you’re here is probably the most important decision of your life.”
I let the dramatics slide. “I’m both, though.”
Rey shakes her head. “Not here. Here you get to choose. It’s the main perk we offer, so get it right.”
Shit, I don’t know. What does she want with this? “Cassian,” I answer.
She smiles, so apparently, I answered right.
“Glad ya made it, Cassian. Let’s go meet your devil.”