Chapter 47 Thank Me Later
Thank Me Later
Torsin is already elbow-deep in a saddle strap when I step into the stable. The warm smell of hay and leather wraps around me at once, sunlight spilling through the open doors and catching in the dust that hangs lazily in the air.
“Well,” he says without turning. “Either I am dreaming or the Princess looks suspiciously well-rested.”
“I am,” I say primly. “And it has nothing to do with you.”
He turns then, eyes lighting. “Ah. So the three days of newlywed sin did not kill you.”
“Torsin.”
He grins. “I need details.”
“You absolutely do not.”
“I do. Someone must study these things.”
“You work with horses.”
“And I like to know how royalty behaves when properly entertained.”
I shove him lightly and he laughs.
“My birthday was a few days ago,” I say instead.
He pauses at that. “Was it?”
“Yes.”
“And you did not tell me?”
“I did not think it mattered.”
His expression softens. “Did someone celebrate it properly at least?”
I look away before I can stop myself.
“Yes,” I say quietly. “For the first time.”
Torsin studies my face carefully and then nods once, satisfied.
“Good.”
“I want to go to Telly’s tonight,” I add. “Like before. Just the three of us.”
He makes a regretful noise. “I am working late. But I can come after. Emva too. We will drink until you tell me every inappropriate detail of your princely adventures.”
“That is not happening.”
“You will tell me everything once you have had enough ale.”
I try not to smile. “You are insufferable.”
“And yet you adore me.”
“I tolerate you.”
He leans closer. “Meet you later?”
“Yes.”
“I will tell Emva when I steal bread from the kitchens.”
“You are a menace.”
“I am loyal,” he corrects, dragging the brush down the flank of the bay beside him.
I drift farther into the stable, running my hand along the warm wooden stall doors as curious noses push through the rails.
“Anything good?” I ask, glancing down the row.
“We’ve a few new ones in from the eastern farms,” he says. “Two are decent. One is a terror.”
“That is impossible.”
“Oh?”
“Horses are honest creatures. If they behave badly it is because someone has mishandled them.”
Torsin jerks his chin toward a stall near the door. “Take the gray then.”
The stallion watching us from the shadows lifts his head as I approach. His coat is a deep iron gray, his ears pricking forward with restless curiosity.
“So you are the terror,” I murmur, reaching up to stroke the warm line of his neck. His skin ripples beneath my hand, but he does not pull away. “You don’t look so terrible.”
“He fooled me too,” Torsin says dryly.
I laugh and swing easily into the saddle, guiding the stallion out into the yard.
The open space beyond the stable stretches quiet and sunlit, the packed earth warm beneath the horse’s hooves.
Torsin remains somewhere behind me inside the stable, the soft rhythm of brushing fading as I guide the stallion farther out.
For several strides he moves beautifully beneath me, strong and eager but responsive to the light pressure of the reins.
“So much for being a terror,” I murmur, leaning forward to stroke the thick line of his neck.
The stallion flicks an ear back toward my voice. “See?” I say softly. “Perfectly reason—”
Someone steps suddenly into his path.
The stallion shies violently, muscles bunching beneath me as the reins jerk hard in my hands. The saddle slips and the world lurches beneath me—
A hand closes over the bridle beside mine.
“Easy,” a smooth voice says.
The stallion snorts and stamps, and in the corner of my vision I catch only the brief impression of a tall man beside his head, one hand on the bridle.
The pressure on the reins gives me just enough control to gather the horse again.
I sit deeper in the saddle, gathering the reins back into my hands before turning toward the man who has interrupted my ride.
“You startled him,” I tell him.
“I prevented you from falling.”
“I was not falling.”
“One day, you will thank me,” he says with an ease that suggests he finds the entire exchange amusing.
“I will not.”
A trace of amusement colors his voice. “I did not say it would be for this.”
The horse tosses his head, and for a moment my attention snaps back to the reins in my hands. When I look again, the stranger is already gone, as though the yard had swallowed him.
I lean forward, rubbing the stallion’s neck as his breathing slows beneath me.
“There now,” I murmur quietly. “None of that was your fault.”
Then I guide him back toward the stable.
Torsin looks up from the horse he’s brushing as I ride in.
“Well?” he asks.
I slide from the saddle, still irritated enough that the thought of explaining the encounter feels exhausting.
“You’re right,” I say, handing him the reins. “He is possessed.”
Torsin grins. “Told you.”
“Tonight, then?”
“Tonight, Princess.”
I leave him to his brushing and make my way toward the castle, the warm scent of hay and leather fading behind me as Rathmor’s towers rise ahead.
Despite myself, the stranger’s words linger.
One day, you will thank me.
I huff softly under my breath.
I most certainly would not.