Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Verna told herself she was going to the stables to check on Sera.
This was partially true. The mare was her prize horse, and she had cost a fortune, so it was entirely reasonable for her to want to see how Kalen was handling her. It was a practical thing to do.
After the afternoon accounts were done, she took the path that curved behind the olive grove rather than the direct route to the stable yards, because it was a pleasant walk at this hour and not, she told herself, because she wanted to arrive without being seen.
She heard them before she reached the wall behind the horse enclosures.
Thundering hoofbeats. She came around the corner of the olive grove wall and stopped.
Kalen had taken Sera out of the ring and onto the open ground of the lower terrace, the long flat stretch between the stables and the vineyard rows that the stable girls used for exercising the horses.
It was perhaps two hundred paces long and wide enough for a horse to move freely.
She was riding at a full gallop. Not the careful pace of a rider getting to know an unfamiliar animal, something considerably more committed than that.
Sera's brown mane was streaming, her hooves throwing up small clods of earth, and Kalen rode like she’d been born in the saddle.
No bouncing, no gripping, no visible effort of any kind.
She moved with the horse the way the waves did in the ocean, entirely naturally, as though she and the mare had done it for years.
At the far end of the terrace, she brought Sera around in a tight curve, leaning into it with her weight rather than pulling on the rein, and the mare responded without hesitation. She came around clean and fast, then dropped back into a canter as they straightened.
Verna leaned against the olive grove wall, enthralled.
Kalen brought her back to a trot, then a walk, then stopped her in the middle of the terrace and sat still for a moment. From this distance, Verna could see her lips moving. The sight of Kalen talking to the horse brought a feeling of unexpected warmth to her chest.
Sera's ears pricked and her head dropped slightly as though she understood.
Then Kalen pressed her forward again, this time into a trot, and began to move her through a series of turns for the competition.
Left circle, right circle, change of reins across the diagonal, halt, rein back, forward again.
With each movement, Sera's body swung more into the rhythm of it.
Verna had ridden the mare for four years. She knew her moods, her habits, and the particular set of her ears when she was not content. The way her back stiffened when she was being asked to do something she didn't want to do.
She saw none of it now. Instead, the mare had obviously decided, with the certainty of a well-bred horse, that this new person on her back could be trusted.
Sera was swinging freely, her neck long and relaxed.
She was giving Kalen everything she asked for with the willing generosity she reserved for riders she respected.
It had taken Verna three months to earn that from her.
Kalen had managed it in an afternoon.
She watched her bring Sera to a halt again at the far end of the terrace and swung down from the saddle with the ease of someone for whom dismounting was as natural as stepping off a low wall.
She put the stirrups up, loosened the girth, and stood at the mare's shoulder, her forehead briefly resting against Sera's neck.
The horse turned her head and nosed at Kalen's shoulder with the affection she usually only reserved for Verna and the stable girl who gave her apples.
Something tightened in Verna's throat. She thought about what Kalen had said about where she came from.
A community of women, far to the east, hidden from the Empire's reach.
The way she moved with the horse, and the communication between them, wherever Kalen's people lived, horses held a special place in their lives.
You didn't ride like that from lessons. It came from tradition, where the horse was as natural a part of daily life as walking.
When Kalen turned, she saw her. She didn't look surprised, simply appraised her and said, "She's exceptional. I've ridden few better horses."
Pleased with the compliment, Verna pushed off the wall and came across the terrace toward them.
"She likes you." She stopped a few paces away and Sera immediately turned her head toward her.
Verna reached up to scratch the mare's jaw in the place she always liked. "She doesn't do that with everyone."
"I noticed." Kalen ran her palm along the mare's neck slowly. "She was cautious for the first quarter hour. Testing me."
"She always is," Verna said.
"And her verdict?"
Verna looked at Sera, who had dropped her head low with half-lidded contentment. "I think you can see it."
Kalen smiled. She gathered the reins and began walking Sera toward the stable to cool her down.
Verna fell into step beside them without consciously thinking about it.
They walked in companionable silence as the setting sun cast long shadows across the terraces.
Then Verna said after a while, "Horses aren’t just animals to your people, are they?"
"No," Kalen replied. "They're not." She looked ahead at the stable door. "Where I come from, a woman without a horse is one who hasn't yet come into herself. The pairing matters. You don't just ride any horse. You find the one that fits you." She paused. "It takes time, sometimes years."
"And Sera?" Verna asked.
Kalen fell silent, then when she spoke, her voice was level and serious. "She'll do," she said, and then the corner of her mouth lifted. "She reminds me a little of you."
Verna blinked. "My horse is like me."
"Cautious at first," Kalen said. "Then generous when she decides you've earned it."
She led Sera into the stable without waiting for a response, which was fortunate, since Verna couldn’t think of anything to say to that.
She stood in the stable doorway and watched Kalen move through the familiar routine of unsaddling and settling the mare. Then without thinking, she placed her hand on her arm. "I’d better get back. They will be wondering where I am."
Kalen looked down at her hand but didn’t shrug it off. Instead, she swayed a little closer, her mouth parted. When she was inches away from kissing her, she straightened and cleared her throat. "I’d better get back to work."
Verna nodded, her emotions in turmoil, then turned and walked back up toward the house.
She pressed her fingers to her lips as she walked.
The ring on her finger glowed in the evening light.
The day before the Trials, the carriage rolled out through the estate gates mid-morning.
After a restless night, Verna had been up since before the household bell.
And now they were on their way to Castine, the anxiety in her gut settled a little.
What would happen in the next three days was in the lap of the gods, and no amount of worrying would help.
Kalen rode beside the carriage on one of the estate horses for the first mile, then dropped back to ride alongside the guard who was leading Sera.
Verna watched them through the window. Kalen said something to the guard, who nodded, then reached across to shorten the leading rein so the mare walked closer.
Sera's ears tracked her immediately, and her stride settled.
Marleen sat opposite Verna in the carriage with a basket of mending, but she fell asleep within the first half hour, slumped in the corner of the carriage.
Verna sat, staring out the window. The sea appeared and disappeared between the headlands as the road curved inland and back. The sky was pale blue and the air had a distinct chill. The vineyards they passed were stripped and cut back, waiting for winter.
She thought about the ring.
She had spent the previous evening in the library again, the last journal open on the desk, reading her great-grandmother's notes by lamplight. There was one passage she kept returning to, written in the cramped hand of a woman meticulous in her recordings.
The power does not announce itself. It arrives when it is needed and not before. Do not look for it. It will find you.
She had closed the journal and sat for a long time with that.
Two hours later, they rolled through the city gates.
Marleen woke with a small start and looked around with the disoriented expression.
Soon the city traffic thickened as the buildings closed in on either side, and eventually, they reached The Laurel Crown.
Once the horses were stabled and the carriage parked at the back, they made their way into the inn.
The innkeeper, a broad woman with the manner of someone who had been managing the demands of noble guests for thirty years, showed them to their rooms herself without ceremony.
The guards' chamber was on the ground floor at the back, four beds and a window that looked onto the stable yard.
Kalen's room was on the second floor next to Verna’s suite. She stood in the doorway glancing around it, then set down her travelling pack and turned to Verna. "Thank you. This is much nicer than I’m used to."
Verna smiled at her. "I figured it was necessary for you to be comfortable to recover from each day. You’re going to need all your strength."
When Kalen disappeared inside, the innkeeper took Verna to her room.
There were two beds for herself and Marleen, a table and chairs and a view of the arena.
She stood at the window while Marleen began unpacking, looking at the stone monolith across the street.
The imperial banners fluttered over the great arched entrance.
"My Lady. Shall I unpack the blue gown for tomorrow?" Marleen called out.
"Yes," Verna said, without turning from the window. "And lay out the warm cloak, please. It will be cold in the stands."