The Sarrokian rose from his seat on the first row closest to Levee’s right. Standing on the bleacher, he removed his hat and replied. “Aye, Lady Arelee. It’s my will that Levee takes my place in today’s competition.”
“Very well,” the horse mistress replied. “Seeing a female face in this arena has been long overdue. I grant you my permission, Levee Tensley. Race on, and may the hooves beneath your seat be swift and steady.”
The crowd rose in a mix of boos and cheers, but Levee blocked every note of it out. All that mattered now was the course in front of her. The announcer stepped into place once more, shouting out the rules to this particular challenge. Above him, the prince stood in the box with his hands on the rail as he watched the gypsy attentively.
Levee inhaled slowly, letting her senses settle on the barrel ahead and the hooves beneath her. “Long legs, Melee,” she whispered. “Show them how fast you can really go.”
The palomino turned her head once, her chestnut eye telling Levee she understood. Scraping the dirt with her hoof, the mare pulled some length in the reins. She was ready.
“Go!” the announcer howled.
Melee shot into the arena like a loosed arrow. The mare’s legs were a blur beneath her as the thick dirt flew up around them. Their audience stared in awe as the pair wrapped around the first barrel and slingshot toward the next. It was as if the rahee hardly needed to tell her horse what to do. They knew the goal in front of them and pursued it with perfect balance. Levee leaned over Melee’s neck as they made for the second barrel, allowing her mare a full stride.
“Cente, Melee, cente!” the gypsy commanded, using the old tongue to urge the palomino into a swifter gallop. Levee felt her consciousness melding with Melee’s mind, and the hooves beneath her suddenly felt as if they were her own. Together, they whipped tightly around the second barrel, then the last, the gypsy’s heel nearly touching the ground with each tight turn.
Move with me, Melee’s voice floated across her mind, reminding Levee to shift her weight along with the mare.
“Aye,” Levee clung to the pommel of her saddle with her right hand as she felt Melee’s movements. Thus far the gypsy had guided her mare through the barrels, but Melee knew exactly how to work the poles. Levee just needed to stay in sync with her mount.
Left, right, left, right. Levee could feel her palomino’s legs pushing off the ground, and launching them through each bend. The sand was soft and sunk beneath the mare’s hooves, making their footing more precarious.
But the gypsy didn’t feel an ounce of fear, trusting her companion. Within seconds, they were free of the final obstacle, and the pair broke into a flying gallop through the gate.
Just as quick as the race had started, it was over.
Fifteen seconds.
Levee threw her arms in the air and let out a whoop while Melee slowed her stride. The crowd roared their support, sending surges of elation through Levee’s slim frame. Milo met her at the finish, taking hold of the mare’s reins as the gypsy sprawled across the palomino and hugged her neck.
Up in the booth, Jaycent clapped, his mind processing what he just saw. There was nothing easy about what Levee had done. Throughout the years, the prince had seen riders trampled by their mounts after one wrong move threw them off balance. Yet this girl and her pony had made it look effortless as they blew through the challenge in an impressive of amount of time.
Arelee joined him at the railing, her hands clapping furiously. “I think we just found a rider that could rival your own skills, Your Highness,” she mused.
“So it seems,” Jaycent muttered.
Suddenly, the melodic voice of an elven guest named Allondel rang in Jaycent’s ear. “I admit, I did not look forward to observing your competitions,” she stated. Jaycent glanced over his shoulder to the elegant Whitewood elf with amethyst eyes. “I was starting to fear from my days here that you were a stubbornly patriarchal race.
“To see you and your horse mistress embrace this female competitor with such heart brings me great relief. If at all possible, I would love to meet this young rider before I leave. If she understands horses as well as she rides them, then I may seek her advice on a stubborn mount of my own.
“Who knows? Perhaps we may commission her to work within our own stables.”
“I will have a meeting arranged as soon as possible,” His Highness replied.
“See to it ye get her to find some time for me, too,” came a gruff voice. Jaycent looked down to see one of the dwarven guests, his squinting eyes peering down at the rahee and her pony from beneath his bushy brows. “Ain’t often ye come across a gal that bold. Do a dwarf proud, she would.”
Jaycent’s eyes widened and he turned to Arelee. It had been an impressive performance, he couldn’t deny that. Yet somehow this one rahenyan girl had done more than wow the crowd. She had garnered the respect and interest of their foreign guests as well.
The horse mistress crossed her arms, her fingers drumming against her bicep. “I’m going to ask her to be my apprentice,” she stated matter-of-factly. “There’s no way I’m letting the elves steal this one out from under me.”
Jaycent nodded his agreement, too floored to speak.
Prospects
“You should o’ seen the looks on their faces, Ma! Levee and Melee stepped into the arena and everybody just sat with their jaws flappin' open. None of ‘em knew what to expect. They all held their breath, suspense tinglin’ in the air!” Milo leaned forward in his seat at the table and wiggled his fingers for effect. “Then before we knew it, she was in and outta the gate without a single fault! The crowd roared.” He stood up on a chair and erupted into a cheer that had Levee and Tay rolling with laughter. “They couldn't believe this girl and her pony could move like that.”
“I could hardly believe it myself,” Levee confessed. “It's the fastest we've ever run.”
“Well, it paid off!” Tay patted the small bag of gold in the middle of the table. The Kasateno family wasn’t used to riches. The pouch in front of them felt like a king’s horde. Milo and Levee took pleasure in watching the stress roll away from Tay’s wrinkled brow. “We could feed our family all winter with this one bag.”
“I just wish the horse mistress had given some hint about who she was considering for an apprentice,” Levee gave a wistful sigh, her fingers toying with the drawstrings of the gold pouch. “You would think with all of the competitors there she would have mentioned something.”
Milo gave the gypsy’s shoulders an encouraging squeeze. “Trust me, Sweets. She was watchin’.”
“She’d be a fool not to consider ya,” his mother added.
Tay’s words were only a sentiment to the disheartened gypsy, but Levee smiled anyway. Milo’s mother hadn’t been able to see the race. Illness had taken hold of her last summer, preventing Tay from doing much of anything anymore.
The healers held no remedies, explaining that her heart was simply weak. Levee and Milo could only watch helplessly as she grew more frail with each passing season.
“Thank you, Tay,” Levee replied, her voice as distant.
Milo’s mother patted Levee’s shoulder, and then yawned. “I think it’s time for these ol’ bones to retire.”
Milo instantly rose to help Tay out of her seat.
“I’m not that old yet, boy,” his mother chided. She winked at Levee and walked herself to her room.
The gypsy laughed. “Goodnight!”
“Night, dearie,” came the old rahee’s reply, followed by the click of her door. Milo leaned against the wall beside the fireplace, his flame-colored eyes cast toward his mother’s bedroom. Levee felt foolish for pouting when she saw the solemn premonition in Milo’s eyes.
The gypsy rose from her seat at the table, her bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor. Rising on her toes, she pulled the hat from Milo’s head, drawing his gaze back to her. “Whenever she goes to bed, your eyes follow her like it’s goodbye.”
The flickering blaze in
the fireplace lengthened the shadows on Milo’s face. His eyes glowed like gloomy embers. “Don’t ya see it?” he whispered back. “The light behind her eyes is wanin’.” The Sarrokian leaned his head against the wall with a dull thud, the apple in his throat bobbing as he tried to swallow back his tears. “Maybe my imagination is gettin’ the best of me, but every time I step into her room, I feel a chill. Like Death is waitin’ there to take her from us.”
Levee laced her fingers comfortably around Milo’s, and the Sarrokian dipped his forehead to rest against her own. She couldn’t bring herself to say it, but she shared Milo’s fears. Tay grew tired much quicker these days and her steps were becoming labored. It was only a matter of time before the farewell in his gaze would be real.
The gypsy wanted to combat his logic, but deep down she knew he was right. Milo was always right. Levee lifted her eyes so that they met with his. He had walked with her through the death of her parents and learning the foreign ways of Nevaharday. Now his own trials were knocking at the door, and Levee didn’t know what to do.
It wasn’t that she was holding back. There weren't any boundaries between her and Milo anymore, nor any walls that hadn't been scaled. It was possibly the most liberating relationship she had ever known.
Throughout the years she had always been the dreamer, and he the voice of reason that kept her feet on the ground. Now the Sarrokian needed an anchor, a support that could help him stay afloat when his emotions splashed over.
She traced her fingers across the stubble of hair that lined his jaw, trying to find the words that would somehow make it easier. Milo’s eyelids slid closed as he leaned into her touch. If there was ever a time that he needed her, it was now. Levee drew closer to nuzzle him affectionately.
Milo brushed his cheek against hers in return, accepting the silent comfort. But as they hovered nose to nose, the feelings he’d tried so hard to deny bubbled up inside his chest like boiling water.
The growing desire to kiss her trembled in his lips. Frustrated, Milo lifted his head in attempt to pull away at the same time that Levee dipped her own. Their mouths brushed together.
It only lasted a moment, but the touch stirred them both. They looked at each other, Milo’s amber eyes delving deep within her gaze in an attempt to discern her reaction.
It was hard to think above his thrumming heart and the warmth that radiated between them. Milo found himself frozen in place, unsure whether to give in, but too ensnared to turn away. His hands ran across Levee’s hair, his breath warm against her chin.
Levee bit her lip, unsure of what was taking place. Up until now, Milo had only offered himself as a friend. What did this new caress mean?
The gypsy didn’t know. At that point, all she understood was that the simple touch had taken some of the pain out of her friend’s eyes. She brushed her lips ever so slightly against his, hoping to steal him from his somber thoughts. She was rewarded when Milo welcomed them.
The Sarrokian closed the small gap between them, his lips coaxing hers apart so that he could caress her tongue with his own. She willingly gave in to his desires, following his lead, and Milo realized he was probably the first lad to ever kiss her.
His heart fluttered at the thought. Never in his twenty-one years had he kissed a woman so innocent. Yet here was his most precious jewel, so lively and so trusting, offering him a display of affection never once shared with another rahee.
He shivered as she laced her fingers around the curls in his hair, melting under his touch. It was more than Milo could bear. He inhaled and pulled away so frantically, Levee froze in shock.
Her heart plummeted as the Sarrokian took refuge on the couch. When she finally turned to face him, he averted his gaze and ran a shaky hand through his hair.
Embarrassment flushed Levee’s cheeks as she tried to imagine what he must be thinking. Levee pressed her fingers to her lips, surprised at how pleasant she found his touch to be. The gypsy had never been so bold before, and Milo’s impassioned caress had left her feeling curious.
“I think I need some tea. Do ya want some?” he asked. Already, he was shuffling to his feet in search of the teapot.
“I suppose…” Her voice was distant again, confused. Milo’s horse-like ears fell back as he sensed her turmoil, mentally cursing himself for giving in to his emotions. But then again, it was Levee who planted their first kiss.
“Ugh,” Milo shoved the idea out of his head as he filled the pot with water and hung it over the fire.
Adding a few logs to the dying flames, the Sarrokian used a poker to arrange them until the fire grew into a steady burn. He tried to keep himself busy with the task, but even the flames seemed cool against the heat of the stare boring into his back. Peeking over his shoulder, he noticed Levee hadn’t moved.
Milo plopped down on the bearskin rug in front of the hearth. He patted the floor beside him. “You wanna talk about it?”
“Not really,” she rubbed a hand over her face. “I’m sorry, Milo. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I think I do,” he rewarded her with a lighthearted wink that caused her to blush even more. “It’s okay, Lev. I understand. You aren’t a child anymore. You’re allowed to feel these kinds of things.”
He quipped, “It’s not like I’m your brother.”
Levee frowned. “You think this is the right time to jest?”
“You want me to be serious?” Raising one eyebrow, he leaned back so that his weight rested on his hands. “I knew the look ya gave me, and I liked it. But I shouldn’t have acted on it.”
Levee blinked, dumbfounded. “Why?”
“Because ya caught me off guard, darlin’! I certainly never expected somethin’ like this to happen, and I’m sure you haven’t thought passed the fact that kissin’ me felt nice.”
“Since when did you ever think ahead when it came to females?” Her embarrassment evolved into offense as she curled up against the foot of the couch. He was right, but to confess it out loud would only humiliate the gypsy even further.
“Since it had to do with you,” Milo replied. “Feelings are complicated, sweetheart. I could’ve kissed ya all night, but what about tomorrow? You aren’t just a fleeting romance. You’re a part o’ this household and a part o’ my heart enough already. The last thing we need to do is complicate things based on a whim.”
Levee moaned and buried her head in her knees. “Why do you always have to be so logical?”
Milo poked her affectionately with his boot. “Because one of us has to keep ya out of trouble, and it’s not you.”
A sharp whistle pierced the tension and Milo turned around to remove the kettle. Placing it on the table, he set about fixing two cups of tea. Levee watched Milo fill the mugs and tried to imagine them as something more than friends.
She never questioned why so many other rahee swooned under those fiery eyes. The Sarrokian had always been handsome. Built like a war horse with his broad chest and strong arms, he exuded masculinity.
Yet Milo also had a gentle side. He cared for every part of Levee: mind, heart and soul. There was no one who accepted her, knew her better or got inside her head quite like he did.
Even now, in the heat of such an awkward moment, he was pouring a soothing remedy for them to share. Levee knew, and had always known, that Milo would take care of her. But the thought of being a farmer’s mate stirred an unsettling fear in her heart.
Caring for Milo wasn’t the issue. Although she wasn’t certain what it felt like to be in love with someone, spending her days with the Sarrokian wasn’t an unpleasant thought. It was the course in life he had chosen that could stand between them.
Levee never wanted to be stuffed in a house living out the same routine day in and day out. Her soul desired the freedom of an open road. It was a need she could delay, but not forsake. Not forever.
Milo set a cup down in front of her and took a seat by her side, smiling as Levee fought the urge to lean against him.
“Just think on it
, Lev,” he raised his arm knowingly and she snuggled against him with her tea cupped in both hands. “Let it stew in your mind awhile. Then, if ya still feel like given us a chance, we’ll take our time. I’ll court ya like a gentleman should.”
“Court me?” Levee snorted. “Milo, I’ve never seen you court anyone.”
The Sarrokian cleared his throat. “Just because I’ve never had to doesn’t mean I can’t. Besides, you deserve nothin’ less.”
Still, Levee wondered. “What about you? You’re telling me to do all this thinking. Shouldn’t you think on it, too?”
Milo shrugged. “I have been. I just didn’t let myself admit it until now. I figure it’s gotta be more than brotherly love if I still can’t get that annoyin’ image of you and the prince out of my head.”
“So you were jealous,” Levee gave his stomach an accusing poke.
Milo set his cup down. “Disgusted is more like it. I’m far more masculine than our scrawny prince, and a lot better lookin’, too.”
“I don’t know,” she teased. “He’s pretty handsome with that tall, regal frame.”
Milo rolled his eyes. “He’s built like an elf. Probably kisses like one too.”
Levee fell into another fit of giggles as she sank against Milo’s warm chest. The newly roused flames licked the fireplace in a soothing dance, causing Levee’s dreams of horses, princes, and castles to sizzle in the wake of this newly crossed boundary.
The gypsy didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but tonight this felt right.
SECRETS UNVEILED
It was barely dawn when a rap sounded at the door, drawing Milo’s attention from the warm mug of tea beneath his lips. He lowered his drink and rose to his feet. Caution held his fingers close to the knife at his belt as the Sarrokian crossed the short distance from the dining table to the door, and he opened it just enough to see who stood behind it.
“Horse Mistress!” Milo immediately stepped back and pulled the door wide when he found the warm smile of Arelee Denicarli beaming up at him.
The Rogue Trilogy Page 8