by Rene Folsom
“Don’t you have any manners, girl?” he says, spittle flying from his nasty teeth. “I just told you my name, and I expect an introduction in return.”
He’s right. It isn’t his fault I’m here. Nor is it his fault if the brothers neglected to tell him my name.
“I’m Zhavia.” While I don’t think he is considered a man of high stature, I still bow my head out of courtesy, recognizing he is an elder of mine and should be treated with respect.
“They are a Shadow Shires,” he blurts out while he starts to unlatch one stall door after another. The only sound between Langston and myself is that of their hooves stomping against the ground as they run straight for the pastures. I watch as his gaze travels over to the horses, his eyes turning wistful and caring as he takes them in. There is pride in his expression, and I know without any explanation it’s because he has cared for these beautiful creatures his entire life, probably raising them from birth.
“Shadow Shires?” I question. I don’t know what type of horse that is, not that I really know about horses at all, but I am more than willing to learn.
“They are specially bred for House Kincaid.” He lightly touches the small of my back and holds his hand out, leading me toward the pasture. “Let me introduce you.”
I’m rendered speechless as we step foot onto a dirt-covered field, patches of grass and wildflowers sprinkling the vast areas around us. The animals are grazing, the muscles in their strong jaws moving and flexing as they chew. The hair of their tails swishes back and forth as they whip the rogue flies attempting to find purchase on their silky coats. All of them are black, and their similarities make me wonder how this old man knows which one is which.
With a click of his tongue and a short but loud whistle, all five horses come trotting toward us, their gaits beautiful and elegant.
“This here,” Langston says while gesturing to one of the five horses. “This is Travelon’s Token. We call him Toke for short. He’s Master Seneca’s ride.”
Nodding, I try to examine the creature. I need to find a way to tell them apart, yet I still do not see any differences in them.
“And this one here is Travelon’s Tyrant. He responds to Ty, though, and is pretty good at coming when you call him. Vulcan named him Tyrant, though the animal is anything but.” Just as Langston says the horse’s name, the creature flicks its head and nudges at the old man’s shoulder with its nose. “Most likely though, he’s looking for some food. He’s a real pig.”
The man stretches out his wrinkled fingers, a small carrot appearing in the palm of his hand. Ty quickly nibbles it up before trotting away.
“And this beauty here is Travelon’s Temptress. She’s the proud owner of one Graham Kincaid. We’ve nicknamed her Tempie, and she seems to love the cuteness of it.” A broad smile spreads over Langston’s face while he presses his nose to the horse’s while placing a piece of an apple between her teeth.
The man comes prepared, that’s for sure.
“Travelon’s Trance is standing just over there, his head stuck in the water trough,” the old man says while pointing to the horse lapping up water like it’s going out of style. “He goes by Trance. Drake isn’t exactly all that creative with words.”
I nod, even though I haven’t met Drake yet. Thankfully, the Admiral and Talia have told me the names of the brothers who are away.
“Last, but certainly not least, is this gorgeous lady right here,” he says as he slaps the meaty part of the horse’s rear. “Her name is Travelon’s Triumph, better known as TT around the brothers. She’s William’s baby, and he never lets her forget it.”
The names are gorgeous, though not memorable. How the hell am I going to remember which horse is which?
“Why are they all named Travelon something?”
Langston’s grin widens. “Travelon was their father’s name. He was such a good stallion, too. Now, all five of his children are living full lives and carry his name, even if we do decide to shorten it just a tad for easy use.”
Well, shit. That’s kind of cute in a horse-naming way. I’m still not sure how that’s going to help me remember them, though.
The old man must’ve noticed the struggle written all over my face, because he lightly pats my shoulder and says, “Don’t worry. You’ll learn which one is which in no time. It’ll become like second nature for you.”
The man has no clue I’m memory challenged when it comes to things I don’t consider a priority. Probably best, though, or I’d be fired from my second assignment faster than I was my first.
It’s so hot, the sun blazing on my skin, that I’m tempted to strip right in front of the horses, my clothes becoming increasingly wet with sweat as the day drags on. I’ve learned so much from Langston, and whoever told Talia caring for horses is a cake job needs to re-prioritize their life. Still, I have to admit that even though I feel beyond gross and my skin is just itching for a shower, I’m also thankful I don’t have to see Greann’s face day in and day out. Hell, I’d live out in the pastures if it meant avoiding her.
“Well, you’re a greenhorn, that’s for sure,” Langston says with a laugh as he jiggles the lock on the stable’s gate, making sure it’s latched properly. “It’s been nice having someone to talk to today. I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”
It’s the first nice thing anyone has said to me since I arrived at House Kincaid, and the mere thought that I have the possibility of some sort of happiness here makes me nervous.
I can’t get comfortable.
No way.
I need to stay focused, so I can find my way out.
8
I should’ve paid better attention when I made my way to the damn stables. Now here I am lost in the gardens, filthy and smelling like horse shit.
It’s still light out. At least a little. The sun is sinking behind the horizon quicker than I’d hoped. But with the little bit of light available and the size of the house, it seems like my dumbass would be able to find the way. Turning a corner, I see the same damn tree I’ve passed by two times already. How I expect to escape House Kincaid when I can’t even find my way out of the gardens is laughable.
With each passing second, I feel the dread I might be stuck out here all night and paranoia begins to crawl its way up my neck.
Something is following me.
No… correction… someone is following me.
It has to be my paranoid brain playing tricks on me, but I swear I’m seeing a massive figure disappearing into the shadows with each turn I make.
“I’m so fucked,” I say to the air around me as I watch the last little bit of sun disappear beyond the tree line. The clouded colors it leaves behind are breathtaking, but they’re still slowly dropping away, ticking down the minutes until I’ll be alone—lost—in the dark.
I can still see the path, though the grass beneath my boots is progressively darkening with each step I take. When I see that same friggin’ tree for a third time, I decide to use it to my advantage. Clearly, I’m not getting out of this maze they call a garden without knowing which direction I should be headed.
If being directionally challenged was a sport, I would win gold.
Deciding this annoying cap is hindering my sight, I break the rules and take it off, hooking it on a tree branch. No one is around, so getting caught with my cap off shouldn’t be a worry of mine. I still feel the urgency to hurry the hell up with this stupid plan and start my way up the tree.
I’m thankful my clothes are made for outdoor work as I strategically climb the tree limb by limb, the bark getting harder and harder to see with the dwindling light of the sun. I simply need to get high enough to see which direction the house is in.
After hefting my ass up a few more tiers of the tree, I glance around, hoping and praying I’ll be able to see something, anything.
All I see are gardens and bushes and flowers… and darkness.
“Crap!”
I’m never going to make it out of this situatio
n without someone knowing. That someone being Talia. That chick won’t let me live something like this down even if it means it’ll jeopardize her station in House Kincaid.
My heavy breaths fill my ears as I decide I need to climb higher, but something stirring below me causes me to freeze.
Someone is down there. I can feel it. I can hear it. Even above the pounding of my heart, I can hear the movement in the brush below the tree I’m climbing up.
Maybe if I keep climbing, they won’t notice me?
If my luck has anything to say about it, they’ll not only notice me, they’ll also snitch on me and I’ll be punished.
I can’t see below me, so I might as well go up. It’s got to be way too dark for the person on the ground to see me, right? My thoughts scatter for a moment when I try to find purchase on the branch with my feet.
Placing my hand on a branch above me, I carefully feel around for another sturdy hold to fit my boot on. Maybe if I climb only a few more limbs, I just might be able to see the house.
The wood creaks beneath my weight.
My heart fragments into a million tiny pieces as I realize I’m up too far.
I’ll be lucky to get out of this situation alive.
“You having fun up there?” a male voice hollers from below, causing me to flinch.
Flinch… and fall.
I wish I could say I don’t scream as I fall, but I do. I scream like a little girl caught in the claws of a banshee. How can I not? I’m falling to my death. Screaming only seems natural. With a whack, my elbow hits a branch and pieces of my hair rips from my scalp as it snags on branch after branch, the leaves and twigs slicing at my skin.
Nothing but flickers of moonlight pass through my vision as I hit several more branches on the way down. Surprisingly, though, the branches don’t hurt nearly as much as the landing. At least I keep telling myself that.
My body feels like it has hit a brick wall, only the wall is warm, holding me tightly in its arms.
Yes, a warm wall of arms.
“You okay?” the voice asks. “I didn’t mean to scare you out of your tree there, petal.”
His breath is warm on my face, and I suddenly realize the arms aren’t made of brick.
Opening my eyes, I can barely make out the face of a Kincaid.
Graham.
“What?” I screech as I attempt to scramble away from him, finally managing to clamber out of his arms. Just my luck I will get caught falling out of a tree by a Kincaid.
“We have to stop meeting like this.” His smile is wide, and he’s starting to scare me the way his ice-blue eyes track over my face in this near darkness.
“I’m… I’m…” I stutter as I take a few steps back. What am I supposed to say to someone who believes they are my master?
My head falls. “My apologies, sir.” I start down the nearest path, though it’s the same one I’ve been down several times already. “I’ll just be heading back now.”
A small laugh echoes around me, causing me to stop in my tracks and glance back at Graham. “You plan to head back to where? The farm?” Another laugh from him as he points. “Because you’re about to head out into the cornfields.”
I huff. Here I am, trying to trick a Kincaid into thinking I’m not really lost, and I end up looking like a fool in the process.
Examining my surroundings, I finally realize I’m not going to find my way without his help.
Here goes nothing.
I plaster on a sweet smile, folding my hands demurely and feigning a damsel in distress. Well, I guess if the shoe fits. “I’m so very sorry, sir, but I seem to have lost my way. I was headed back to the main house from the stables, and I somehow managed to get myself lost.”
Graham doesn’t say anything for several long, drawn-out moments, his silence getting the best of my impatience. He’s probably thinking how foolish I am. His eyes are glacial as he steps closer to me and plucks a few strands of my hair, rubbing them between his two fingers. It has to be too dark to notice the color change in my hair, but then I remember what’s more important—I’m not wearing my cap.
Shit.
“The house is back that way.” He gestures over his shoulder with his thumb, directing my gaze to a row of flowers that imitate the sunset I saw mere minutes ago.
“Right behind the bush of red flowers?” I ask stupidly, unsure of what to say to him after I babbled about being lost.
“They’re called Amaryllis’. And yes. Right behind there.”
Whatever. I need to find my way back so I can wash the filth from my skin. I turn to leave when Graham whistles for my attention.
“Aren’t you forgetting something, petal?” He’s holding my cap between two fingers. “You better put this back on. You don’t want anyone to see your hair. Keep it covered.”
“Right. Sorry, sir.” After snatching the cap from his hands, I turn to walk away.
He laughs at my retreating form before he hurries beside me, his stride matching mine.
“So, how did your day go working alongside Langston?”
I simply nod, wondering why he’s making conversation with someone like me.
“I bet Tempie is your favorite, huh?” he asks with pride.
I don’t respond.
“Have you met the horses yet? Didn’t Langston introduce you to all our babies?”
I nod again, but keep my gaze straight ahead. “He did, and I will be lucky to tell them apart anytime this century.
Graham stops, placing his hand in front of me to halt me along with him. With a small flick of his fingers, he gestures for me to look at him.
I finally cave and meet his beautiful blue eyes.
“If you pay attention, each horse has their own little markings.” His smile is pure joy as he speaks, and it dawns on me just how spot on Langston was when he said these brothers live and breathe for their horses. “My Tempie, for example, has blue flecks in her eyes.”
“Blue… like yours?” I don’t think before I blurt out my words, regretting them as soon as they’re spoken.
Thankfully, Graham laughs. “Yes, like mine. You have to get close to notice, but one day, you’ll just know. They’re all one of a kind.”
My eyes dart around, worried with how late it is getting. “Thank you, Mr. Kincaid, for the tip. I promise to take excellent care of Tempie and all the other horses for you and your brothers.”
“Hey, none of that mister crap. It’s Graham. If you call me Mr. Kincaid, you’re likely to get five different brothers responding.” Again, his chuckle fills the area around us and an unexpected warmth creeps up my face. Man, he laughs a lot.
“I should get back. I don’t want anyone to be put out for my tardiness.” I don’t let him respond as I continue walking down the path toward the house.
The night sky goes in and out of focus as I round the bush of flowers and head in the direction Graham pointed. I don’t know how I got so lost. It really shouldn’t be that hard to go from the stables and then back to the house. I can’t afford to be directionally challenged like this. Not on this property. Not when I’m trying to escape. It would defeat the purpose of attempting to be on my own if I can’t even find my way out of the driveway.
The path is dark, but I still have enough light from the moon that it’s bearable. I’m attempting to enjoy the sounds of the wildlife and crickets in the distance when I hear footsteps following me.
I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Graham. I don’t dare turn around. I don’t want him to know I know he’s following me.
Why is he following me?
Awe, man. It’s probably so he can tell someone I was out after curfew.
The rest of the way back takes me no time at all. I still hear his footsteps following.
I pay him no mind.
The wooden door to the main house stands in front of me, and I freeze in my boots for the second time this evening. This heavy door is a constant reminder of why I need to leave here. I’ve traded one prison for anoth
er, and I have no one to blame but myself. I had a chance to escape during the selection, and I screwed it up.
Deep breaths. There’s nothing I can do now until I come up with a new plan.
The solid oak hurts my knuckles when I knock twice. There’s no answer. I knock again. The delay is evidence that I’m screwed for being out so late.
Finally, the door opens and Talia stands there with a smirk on her face, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Dinner was over an hour ago. You missed out. The bathing room is closed as well. You’ll have to get permission from Admiral Willis if you wish to wash that horse shit off your face.”
There are days when I don’t care about the consequences of my actions. My bones are strong. But because of my new situation in life, I don’t know the horrors that lie behind House Kincaid for those who are disobedient or found at fault, and I’m not sure I want to know.
I hold my tongue instead of replying to Talia’s comment. I know a snotty reply will only get me into more trouble. She holds her nose as I pass by, and I start to make my way back to my room. It’s then I remember I was followed by Graham. He must have left the moment I reached the servants’ entrance.
My clothes are dirty. I’m dirty.
I can’t believe I’m going to have to sleep smelling like horse manure, especially since one of the main rules of House Kincaid is to keep clean.
When I get to my room, I see a plate of cheese and bread, along with a glass of milk.
I wonder who put that there.
Before I touch it, I walk to the vanity sink in the small alcove to wash my hands and face. The feel of the water is so soothing I sigh audibly and have to resist ducking my head under the tap.
Stripping to my underwear, I throw on the shirt I wore yesterday. It’s definitely cleaner than the rags I just peeled off my skin.
I should sleep on the floor. I don’t want my bed to smell like manure.
My stomach grumbles and I descend on the plate, not caring who left it there or why. I’m just thankful I will get something to eat, especially after Talia’s tirade at the door.