Chapter 9 #2
She had simply walked, following corridors until they ended and open air greeted her, with the stables at the far end of the yard. Their doors were pushed back, and the smell of hay, leather, warm animals, and the dry earthiness of a space that was used and functional met her.
She went in and felt glad she did. It was quieter here.
The yard noise faded away. Her footsteps grew softer on the packed earth as she walked slowly between the stalls, not searching for anything, just allowing the smell, the warmth, and the steady breathing of the large animals to work their way through her.
The mare in the third stall was not standing quietly like the others. She shifted from foot to foot, ears moving, her head coming up and dropping and coming up again.
Young. Nae yet settled in herself.
She knew the feeling. She stopped in front of the stall and spoke low, the way she had watched grooms do. No words that meant anything, just sound and steadiness, letting the animal hear that she was there and that she was not a threat.
The mare’s ears angled toward her.
Chloe waited. Then slowly, carefully, she lifted her hand and reached toward the horse’s neck. The mare threw her head back and shied sideways, hooves loud on the stall floor.
A hand closed over hers.
“Too fast.”
She had not heard him come in. His voice arrived beside her ear, low and close, and then the rest of him was there, stepped between her and the stall door, one arm coming across her waist to draw her back from the barrier. She went still.
He was at her back. Close enough that she could feel the warmth coming off him, the solid reality of his chest, the steadiness of him in the way that nothing in this castle had yet been steady for her. His hand was still over hers, both of them raised toward the mare.
Her heart was doing something she would have to ignore completely.
“She feels yer fear,” he murmured. His mouth was near her ear, and she was fairly certain he was not aware of that. “Horses daenae listen to words. They listen to breath.”
She was not breathing well at this moment, which was probably not helping the horse.
“Breathe out,” he said.
She breathed out.
“Again.”
She did.
The mare’s head lowered a fraction.
His hand gently guided hers forward, slowly this time, not toward the neck, but into the space between them and the horse—a patient offering.
“Let her see ye first,” he said. “Then touch her.”
The mare stretched her nose out. Chloe felt the warm breath against her palm before the soft weight of the muzzle followed, pressing into her hand gently, then withdrawing, then pressing again.
A smile moved across her face before she could think about it.
“She likes ye,” Edward said.
“I think she likes ye more,” Chloe answered softly.
She had not thought about what she was saying. It just came out. She felt the shift in him when it landed. A slight stillness, with his breath changing against the side of her neck.
He was still holding her hand. She remained aware of every contact point between them with such clarity that it was hard to think about anything else. The width of his chest against her back. His arm still loosely around her waist. The warmth of his hand over hers, which had not moved.
He released her and stepped back. The loss of him was sharp, like a sudden drop in temperature.
But he did not leave. He moved to the side of the stall instead and began to show her.
“Come around to the side,” he said. “Never straight on. Ye are nae a threat from the side.”
She moved. He watched her placement and shook his head once.
“Further back. Level with her shoulder.”
She adjusted. The mare’s ear swiveled toward her.
“Now yer weight.” He glanced down at her feet. “Ye are standin’ like ye are ready to run.”
“I am ready to run,” she muttered back.
Something shifted at the corner of his mouth. “Even yer feet.” He said it without mockery. “Settle them.”
She pressed both feet into the ground and felt faintly ridiculous, but did it anyway.
“Better.” He moved closer to the stall, not looking at her now, his attention on the horse. “Talk to her.”
“What do I say?”
“Anythin’. The words daenae matter. The sound does.”
Chloe looked at the mare. The mare looked back at her with one big, dark eye.
“All right,” she said quietly. “I am nae goin’ to hurt ye. I am nae entirely sure what I am doin’, if that helps. Ye and I are in the same position.”
The mare’s ear twitched again, turning toward her.
“Her neck,” Edward said. “Reach slowly.”
She raised her hand. Her elbow bent too sharply, and he stepped forward and adjusted it without asking, his hand at the back of her arm, straightening it, and the contact lasted two seconds, and she lost the next thing he said entirely.
“Sorry,” she said. “What?”
He looked at her. “Keep yer elbow soft.”
“Soft. Aye.”
She tried. The mare shifted away.
“Too eager,” he said. “She can feel it in yer arm.”
“I am nae eager, I am…” She stopped. She was absolutely eager and anxious, and also very aware that he was standing close enough that she could feel the warmth from his arm, which was making the anxious part considerably worse. “I am concentratin’.”
“Concentrate on yer breath first. Everythin’ else follows.”
She inhaled. Exhaled slowly, just like he had instructed her before.
The mare stilled.
There.
She sensed it—the animal’s attention shifting, with less alarm. She kept her breath steady and her elbow soft, reached out again very slowly, and this time the mare did not move away.
Her fingers found the curve of the neck.
She did not move. She barely breathed.
“Keep going,” Edward said. “She’ll tell ye if she’s had enough.”
She began to move her hand, slow strokes, and the mare dropped her head by a fraction, and Chloe felt the satisfaction of it move through her like something warm cracking open.
She is lettin’ me.
She glanced sideways at Edward without meaning to.