The short rahee offered a polite nod. “Milo Kasateno, I hope I didn’t wake you. Mornings start early in my line of work.”
The Sarrokian shook his head and welcomed her inside with a sweep of his arm. “So do mine. What brings ya to my humble home, m’lady?”
“A particularly talented young rahee,” the horse mistress folded her hands behind her back as she wandered deeper into the cottage’s cozy main room. Her long, dark curls bobbed against her shoulders as she walked, emphasizing the spring in her step. Between her positive air and the not-so-subtle reference to Levee, Milo guessed the purpose behind this unexpected visit.
“Tea, Miss?” he offered. Already, Milo was pulling a second mug from the cupboard.
“Yes, please.”
“Levee is tendin’ the horses, but she shouldn’t be long,” bringing another steaming cup to the table, the Sarrokian offered her the chair across from his. The horse mistress took a seat.
Sipping at the tea, Arelee closed her eyes, reveling in a flavor she hadn’t tasted in years. “Ondalu leaf…” A smile curved over her cup. “I haven’t had this since I was a little girl.”
“I picked it up from some tradesman durin’ the faire,” Milo explained. “T’was a favorite of mine when I lived in Sarrokye.”
“What part of the city are you from?”
Milo’s ears perked, astonished that anyone, much less a person of Arelee’s stature, would take an interest in his southern heritage. “I grew up in Hikayah, near the port.”
Arelee blew the steam from her drink. “Mmm, those are some tough streets.”
Milo nodded. “Tough, aye, but I miss it sometimes. Mostly the little things, like the salty air and the sound of the waves,” a wistful smile curved Milo’s lips as her reflected back on old memories. “If you find the right rooftop, you’d catch sunsets unlike anythin’ you’ve ever seen.”
“It’s the water,” Arelee remarked. “It reflects the colors, making them seem endless.”
The Sarrokian’s thick eyebrows arched high above his lashes. “You’ve been there?”
The horse mistress laughed and pulled up her sleeves to reveal a pair of dark-skinned arms. “Did you think I got a tan like this under Nevaharday’s gentle sun?”
That drew a chuckle from the Sarrokian’s lips. “I had my suspicions.”
“My mother is from Sarrokye. I spent a couple of summers there with her side of the family when I was a child,” her fingers tapped against the mug. “The place was a little rough around the edges, but there are days when I miss it, too.”
Milo, his eyes crinkled in humor, touched his forehead in understanding. Arelee was a taste of home he hadn’t had in quite some time. It felt nice to talk to someone like in heart, even if it was ever so slight. But the reality of why the horse mistress was sitting here in front of him sobered his mirth. The Sarrokian pinned his elbows to the table’s surface and leaned forward, his countenance serious. “What interest have ya in Levee, Miss?”
Arelee laced her fingers around her mug. “You know, even though Levee placed well in the competitions, it was her courage and spirit that won her the hearts of everyone there.”
Milo nodded. “I know it.”
“She has a gift, Master Kasateno,” the horse mistress continued. “Everyone in the arena could sense it. She and her horse move like a single entity. I’ve only seen one rahee ride that way, and his mount is a unicorn, capable of voicing his own thoughts. Not a horse.”
Milo hesitated, picking his words carefully. “Horses are… her passion.”
“All the more reason for her to be my apprentice.”
There was a pause between them as a wave of emotions transpired across Milo’s face. Those words would bring wings to Levee’s heart, but it also meant the life they’d spent together for nine years would fork. Levee would embark on a new path, away from him.
“Should she say yes, what happens then?” the Sarrokian inquired.
“Then I will invite her into the castle where we will house her for the duration of her apprenticeship. She will shadow me in my duties and be trained under my hand. Afterward, if Levee is deemed fit, I will grant her the honor of becoming a horse mistress. She will take up permanent residence with us in Nevaharday’s castle.”
Permanent. The word left a painful hollow inside of the Sarrokian’s soul. He stared hard at his cooling mug. “She’d like that,” his voice, barely loud enough for Arelee to hear, fell into agreement.
The back door clicked open, and the pair at the table turned around to see Levee walk in. She wiped her boots before stepping inside, and nearly tripped when she saw Arelee sitting with Milo. The horse mistress dealt her a curious glance as the young rahee steadied herself and cleared her throat.
“Hello,” Levee managed to blurt out. Her green eyes drifted back and forth from Milo to the horse mistress and she smiled tentatively. “Did I miss something?”
“Actually, you’re right on time,” Arelee rose from the table to meet Levee by the fireplace. “I was just telling Milo how I had my sights on you as a possible apprentice. I’ll need to borrow you for the day to test your skills. That is, if you’re interested.”
Color warmed Levee’s cheeks. “Me?”
Arelee scanned the room. “I don’t see any other Levee Tensley here.”
Elation spread across Levee’s face. She turned to Milo, seeking his permission. The Sarrokian propped his left boot against his knee and shrugged.
“It’s up to you, darlin’. If this is what ya want then don’t let it slip by.”
Joy swelled in Levee’s chest. Her head bobbed in a series of enthusiastic nods and she turned for the back door once more. “All I need is a minute or two to saddle up.”
Arelee clapped her hands together. “Perfect!” When she turned, the horse mistress found Milo’s head bowed over the table, his eyes distant. She dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she’s well taken care of.”
Milo managed a smile. He stood and escorted the mistress to the door with one final thank you. It all seemed to happen so quickly. A white mare stood in the front yard, waiting patiently for Arelee to return. The horse mistress was in the saddle with one nimble step. She pulled the mare around to face the front door and winked at Milo’s pensive stare.
“She’ll be fine,” Arelee called to him. “Trust me.”
Milo gave a resigned sigh as he tried to convince himself of those words. For so long, Levee had been his responsibility. His charge. His—
Realization struck like a gong inside his head. Levee was not his at all. She didn’t belong to him. The gypsy didn’t belong to anyone but herself. He had no right to hold her back.
Arelee remained one of few females holding a powerful position within Nevaharday’s castle. Strong, level-headed and well-respected, Milo couldn’t ask for a better person to take Levee under wing. If there was a place for the gypsy inside this city, Arelee would help her find it.
In the grand scheme, this would be a good thing. The Sarrokian leaned his back against the door frame as Levee waved goodbye and lifted his hand in return.
Then, with a shake of his head, he turned and closed the door behind him. This cottage was home to Milo, but its walls could never hold the young gypsy. None ever could. He laughed in spite of his aching heart, feeling like a fool for ever thinking she’d stay.
“Oh Lev,” he whispered to himself. “Who was I to think I could tame ya?”
* * * * *
Jaycent rubbed his tired eyes as he trudged toward the pastures, the wet grass drawing moist lines across his leather boots. He inhaled deeply, embracing fall’s first nip, but even its invigorating chill couldn’t keep another yawn from escaping his lips.
In spite of the competition’s positive influence on his foreign guests’ demeanors, Jaycent’s sleep had been restless. For some reason, his subconscious dragged him through a dark and disturbing nightmare.
He recounted it as he walked, wondering if his fears we
re claiming a playground in his sleep. Jaycent couldn’t remember the last time he had dreamed.
He wasn’t supposed to. When the prince was a young boy, he used to suffer night terrors until his father finally summoned Patchi’s aid. A strange night of prayers and chants had stolen his dreams away, until last night.
It felt more like a memory than a dream. In it he had wandered alone and unarmed like prey inside his own castle. The typically bright torches attached to the walls flickered like dying candles, revealing living shadows that cowered from the light. Jaycent had slunk from one alcove to the next, trying to evade some hidden enemy. Jaycent held no clue what he had been running from, but the feeling of being watched lingered with him long after he awoke.
“Prince?”
Jaycent’s blade sang as it slid from the sheath on his hip, the metal glimmering against the early morning light. He sliced the air behind him, its tip halting in front of a dark figure.
Diego looked down his black muzzle at the tip of Jaycent’s sword while Jaycent’s eyes were poised inches from the unicorn’s sharp horn. The stallion pricked his ears.
“A stalemate?” the unicorn remarked, his curly beard wagging with every word.
Embarrassed, Jaycent sheathed his sword and ducked under the unicorn’s horn to pat his friend’s neck. “Pardon me, Diego. It seems I am a bit jumpy this morning.”
“A bit?” the stallion fell in stride beside the sleepy prince, his neck lowered so that his head bobbed near the rahee’s shoulder. “What has you so on guard, my friend?”
“Just a dream I had last night.”
Diego’s hooves came to pause and he lifted his head. “A dream to you is more than a simple thing.”
The prince waved his hand, not wanting to garner more attention than he felt the incident deserved. “It is probably just stress getting the best of me. Dealing with disgruntled foreign ambassadors for the last tenday has not been easy.”
Diego snorted, and His Highness could tell by the eyes boring into his back that the mighty stallion wasn’t convinced. “You will tell me if it happens again?”
Jaycent shrugged. “As if you wouldn’t already know?”
The stallion said nothing as the prince readjusted the bow and quiver slung over his shoulder. The pair held a bond so intimate that they could sense each other’s heightened emotions. It was the reason Diego had tracked him down this morning instead of meeting him in the stables.
The prince winked, breaking the tension between them. With a playful hand, he popped the stallion on the haunches. “Come on. You know how Rayhan gets when people are late. I would rather not be included in that unlucky lot.”
Diego shook his mighty head and said nothing more as he started off toward the training fields. The prince moved to join him, but not without a wary glance over his shoulder.
“Just a dream,” he muttered. Logic reasoned that’s all it was.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that a foul pair of eyes were upon him.
* * * * *
Levee stood inside the pasture, her eyes glued to the sun-glazed the hills. Across three acres, in a gated field beside the barracks, a well-disciplined line of soldiers stood at attention as the general’s voice echoed over them. The gypsy couldn’t make out General Mendeley’s words, but they were received with a wealth of respect. None of his charges tore their eyes away as he gave his speech. Not even the horses.
“You ready, rookie?” Arelee asked.
Levee tore her attention away from the scene to find the horse mistress leading two war mounts in her direction. When the presence of those mighty steeds reached her senses, the gypsy shivered like a cold breeze had suddenly swept across her shoulders. She held her breath, feeling the innate pull that drew her to hear their inner voices.
Do my eyes deceive me, the dapple-gray stallion’s ears rose to attention as his voice, more curious than friendly, filled Levee’s mind. Who are you, daughter of the herd? For surely that is what you are. Although your body is that of a horse-child, on the inside you are one of us...
“Shhh,” the gypsy placed a subtle finger to her lips as Arelee and the horses drew closer. Closing her eyes, Levee mentally placed a barricade in her mind so the equine’s voice would not penetrate. She would not give in to her gift here. Not in the presence of strangers. Those days died with her family a long time ago.
“Well?” Arelee looked expectantly at her recruit.
“Ready,” Levee held out her hand, and the horse mistress placed the dapple-gray’s reins into her palm.
“This is Joust,” Arelee introduced. “Get to know him. You do well today and he’ll be yours to work with from here on out.”
Levee stared hard at the horse who, just moments earlier, was addressing her like a mare in his herd. It was clear by his expression that he had figured out she was ignoring him, and he was none too pleased.
Standing just shy of seventeen hands, Joust was not a creature she wanted to make enemies with. He possessed a cocksure stare that challenged her to test him.
Levee smiled. She may have muted out his voice, but the dare in his eyes voiced his opinion quite clearly. Only a confident rider would be able to work with this creature.
“I’m not here to conquer you,” she murmured. Her fingers combed through the beast’s mane before scratching his furry neck. “But I won’t stand below you either.” Levee gave the horse one strong pat and draped the reins across his neck. Joust shifted his weight, a throaty grunt rumbling in his throat.
Levee kept a wary eye on the stallion as he stood calm and obedient like the horses in the field. In one fluid motion, she launched into the saddle. Immediately, Joust‘s ears shot up and he turned a suspicious eye on her. He pulled the reins testily, but Levee held firm.
“Steady,” she warned.
Amused, the spirited stallion responded with a defiant snort. He bucked in an effort to jostle his light rider, but to no avail. Around they went, twisting and jerking, but no matter how hard he tried, Levee remained in her seat. Her thighs held tight as she kept her torso limber, moving with him.
“Easy, Joust,” she said, patiently urging the horse to relax. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she added, “Kaliano.”
Something in the syllables of that last word held a calming affect over the draft horse, as if the sound alone incited a more agreeable nature. His ears twitched in recognition and, with a hint of resignation, Joust settled down and waited for his rider’s direction. Levee smiled.
“Well…” Arelee wore a tight expression as she fought to keep a stoic countenance. Joust had never taken so quickly to a rider. Not even to the horse mistress. Clearing her throat, Levee’s mentor feigned indifference. “Now that you’ve shown mastery over the most basic of skills, let us see what you can do on the field.”
Levee nodded and followed the horse mistress’ lead, a new nervousness welling inside of her. Joust’s tantrum had brought to light an unnerving point. Arelee had chosen Levee because she’d shown great talent on horseback, yet there was nothing traditional about her means. Levee often used her gift and their people’s ancient language to communicate with horses.
Could she manage to pull her weight without them?
Doubt gathered like a lump in her throat. It was too late to back out now. Whatever the answer, she’d have to figure it out on the field.
* * * * *
The prince watched from the corner of his eye as Arelee took her place off to the side of Rayhan’s assembly, her new recruit in tow. Levee looked nervous, and by Jaycent’s reckoning, she should be.
Many eyes would be on her to see how she faired Arelee’s training. He wondered whether bravery or foolishness drove the girl’s ambitions, for she took a great risk by being here. Few rahee would suffer a gypsy on royal grounds unless they came in shackles.
It was a sentiment His Highness didn’t exactly share, but he couldn’t simply overrule it either. His city’s hatred for the nomadic folk ran deep. If he merely hinted toward Levee�
��s origins to anyone, it could wield consequences on her that were far beyond the realm of justice.
The remaining slivers of Jaycent’s conscience wouldn’t tolerate that sort of burden. Instead, he chose to keep her secret, confident he could whittle out the truth of her intentions on his own.
“Watch His Highness closely,” Rayhan’s words carried over the company’s ears, redirecting the prince’s attention. “He will demonstrate the proper technique.”
Jaycent slid his finely crafted bow from his shoulder and tested its elasticity before notching an arrow. A smile played across his lips, but he quickly suppressed it. A serious countenance would leave a far better impact on these green soldiers. With a subtle shift in weight, he set Diego into motion.
The stallion’s heavy hooves bounced into a trot, circling around the line of soldiers so that he and the prince stood in front of a straight run. Along the sidelines were targets of varying heights and distance.
“Notice his posture and how he distributes his weight,” the general lectured on. It was the last thing Jaycent heard before his cousin’s voice fell into the realm of background noise, and his attention centered on the challenge in front of him.
With one hand wrapped around Diego’s mane, the prince held his bow out wide and urged Diego into a canter. He soon found the unicorn’s rhythm and his fingers slid from the stallion’s long hair. At the same time, he lifted his bow, setting his sights on the first target.
In that moment, no thoughts buzzed through his mind. Everything from the trials of princehood to the gypsy at his back fled Jaycent’s consciousness as he zeroed in on the arrow between his fingers and the target ahead.
Inhale.
Release.
The arrow zipped through the air, knocking the mark from its base. Murmurs rose up from the line of soldiers, and Levee shook her head in disbelief. While her eyes were still watching the first target fall to the ground, Jaycent produced a second arrow and let fly.
His Highness didn’t need to check to know his aim was true. He worked through his quiver, loosing arrows one by one until all ten were gone. His hand fell back into Diego’s mane just as the stallion wheeled around to survey their handiwork. Before them, ten marks had been hit with deadly accuracy, the force of his arrows strong enough to send many targets tumbling to the ground.
The Rogue Trilogy Page 9