Page 5 of The Mirror and the Curse

Raquel on Tirador zoomed past, closely followed by the dun horse, then a black one and a bay. Flying now as if they were on a leisurely tour of Vetricia, White slowly drifted off the racecourse, gliding downward. He even circled his head around as if working out a kink in his neck, then yawned, showing his great yellow teeth.

No matter what Eddi said or did, the colt paid her no heed; and when they were just skimming above treetops, he yawned again and shook himself in midair. If Eddi hadn’t been well balanced with a tight grip on the straps, only the emergency tether would have kept her from falling.

Yet she no longer felt panicked or even concerned. Such a beautiful afternoon . . . and the grass on an approaching hilltop looked soft and green.

White landed at a canter and slowed to a walk, his breathing already deep and even. “This looks good,” Eddi sighed as she released herself and slid to the ground. She fumbled to unlatch her helmet and parachute pack, and once she’d dropped them, the fresh air felt wonderful on her head and face. She scarcely noticed when White folded his legs and collapsed beside her. She was too focused on removing her flight jacket, which made a comfortable pillow when she lay down for a well-deserved nap.

Ahhh, blue sky.

Sunshine.

Peace . . .

“Eddi!” a voice called her name.

Hands gripped her upper arms and shook. How annoying!

“Mmzleeping.”

“Wake up,” the raspy voice said. “You’ve got to wake up.”

The man sounded familiar. And worried. She tried to extend him a comforting hand, but she didn’t seem to have one anymore. “Mmmawake,” was the best she could do.

Arms wrapped around her and lifted. Her face pressed against prickly scruff and warm skin that smelled good, like hay, horses, and soap. “Eddi!” he groaned.

But then another voice spoke, and the arms quickly laid her back down. “Airdyugo?” she objected. Her head throbbed, and bright light hurt her eyes. Once more she succumbed to darkness and peace . . .

It seemed only moments later when she struggled back to consciousness, but this time the trickle of a fountain blended with two quiet voices, and sunlight seemed to flicker across her face. She caught only snatches of conversation.

“He woke briefly and freaked on the way here, so I had to put him back under.” This new voice was crisp and businesslike. A voice of command.

“You’re sure it was the ribbons?”

Oh good. Mr. Smells-so-good was still around. She knew that husky voice.

“Yes. They disintegrated, but I collected traces of the sleeping potion from his mane,” his companion replied. “Shouldn’t be difficult to match the spell to the enchanter, and I found evidence of the mirror’s influence. It’s around here somewhere, for certain. I’ve got to track it down, so you can handle this situation—.”

“Wait! First, you’ve got to take the spell out of Eddi. And her fterotó, too.”

Recognition clicked, and Eddi’s heart picked up its pace. Kai was here! The worried voice was unmistakably his. Here she’d just been wishing he could see her win this race, and . . . Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

But . . . how did he get to Vetricia? Had he come to see her race?

“I can’t,” the other man answered. “By now the potion has spread throughout their bodies, but—Calm down! It’ll work its way out. It’s a simple sleeping potion, not the mirror’s doing. They’ll both wake up soon, unharmed.”

Eddi cracked open her eyes, but the glare of daylight hurt, so she squeezed them shut while working up strength to roll to her side.

“You’d better be right about that.”

“I am. Meet you later.”

Eddi felt something like an invisible flash. Silence followed.

Was Kai still here? Curiosity impelled her to peer between her lashes until she identified the mound of whiteness that was her horse. Then she focused on the compact figure bending over White’s head—wide shoulders, hard-muscled arms, lean legs, no hips—well,almostno hips. Kai had the size, strength, and skill to make an excellent jockey.

She could so easily forget that he was a dwarf. Not to mention totally off-limits to a princess.

He sat there with his eyes shut, looking boyish and oh-so-serious while he pressed one hand over the arched bridge of White’s nose and flattened the other on the horse’s sleek neck. Was he working some kind of magic?

---