Page 50 of A Court of Bones & Sorrow

“What would your dream horse be?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

She turned around to face me, leaning her back against the stall door. The chestnut stallion nudged her shoulder, and she absently stroked his cheek. “Dark like the storm clouds. With a loyal spirit and a fiery temper.” She grinned. “And fast enough to outrun death itself.”

“That’s a tall order.” I smiled back at her.

“You said dream horse.” She leaned over and kissed the stallion on thenose. “I suppose we should get back to the party. My aunt is probably wondering where I slipped off to.”

“Of course.” We walked out of the stables, but I halted after a couple of steps. “Actually, I need to check in with the rangers about something. I’ll see you back at the party.”

“Okay . . .” Samara eyed me suspiciously. I couldn’t say I blamed her, it was rare that I did anything that looked like work around her. Usually, we would just split a bottle of wine or two and talk about random things. Well, I’d ask Samara about her life and then redirect the conversation anytime she asked something about mine.

With a wave, Samara set off towards the main tower of the Sovereign House, where the party was no doubt still in full swing. I waited until she was out of sight before doubling back to the small building behind the stables and rapping my knuckles against the door.

An older-looking Moroi male swung the door open. His light grey hair hung loose around his shoulders. “My prince!” His bushy eyebrows shot up. “I, uhh—” he brushed some crumbs off his shirt, and his posture went ramrod straight. “My apologies. I was just having dinner and wasn’t expecting company—definitely not you. Not that you’re not welcome her?—”

“My apologies for interrupting your meal, Stablemaster.” I held my hands up in an apologetic gesture. “I was hoping to intrude on you for just a few minutes and ask for a favor.”

“Oh?” A puzzled crease formed between his eyes. “I mean, of course!” He held the door open and waved me inside. “Whatever you need.”

I stepped into his simple but clean home, his interrupted meal still on the table. “I’m looking for a particular horse, and I was wondering if you could reach out to the stablemasters of the other Houses to see what they have available—and arrange for me to go see them. I’ll need to inspect all the options myself.”

“Sure.” He nodded slowly. “What type of horse are you looking for?”

I gave him a small smile. “One made of dreams.”

The memory faded, and I was vaguely aware of the glasssphere slipping out of my hands to land with a thud on the carpet before rolling away.

Zosa. My hot-tempered and beloved grey mare. Demetri had given her to me as a wedding present, but I’d always suspected he hadn’t been the one to find her. That he had just told the House Laurent Stablemaster to find me a horse, and they had done as commanded.

I’d forgotten all about that conversation in the stables with Draven. The weeks leading up to my marriage had been a blur, and then I’d been busy fighting to make space for myself at House Laurent. Not to mention missing Kieran terribly.

One of the few things that had kept me sane had been riding Zosa on the beach. Draven had given me the horse of my dreams. And until now, he’d never said one word about it.

I stared at the Fae memory ball as it slowly rolled across the floor before coming to a stop against the clock. That memory hadn’t been at all what I’d expected, and I didn’t understand why he had chosen it. Part of me wanted to track down wherever he was with Kieran and demand answers—but another part of me was scared of what he might say.

Because I was absolutely falling in love with Draven . . . but I still didn’t trust him.

Chapter Sixteen

Kieran

In general,I prided myself on having nothing but good ideas. Convincing Alaric to stop working for a few hours so we could spar instead? Good idea. Telling Leora she should practice her new pastry ideas and I would sample each one? Great idea. That time I convinced Samara to sneak some honey from the kitchen so I could drizzle it all over her body and lick it off?

Fucking.Fantastic. Idea.

Telling the others I could distract Draven for a few hours by taking him out for a ride? Bad idea. Like, epically terrible idea.

The look of surprise on Draven’s face when he’d walked out of Yolanthe’s study and I’d immediately asked him to come for a ride with me had almost made it worth it. But now we were alone in the woods surrounding House Harker, and the reality of my situation came crashing down on me.

I blamed Samara and Alaric for not doing a better job of talking me out of this. They were the smart ones, and it was their responsibility to point out the stupidity of my ideas. Both of them would be getting an earful when I got back.

“Something the matter?” Draven slowed his enormousblack stallion until it was riding next to Zosa. I barely managed to rein her in when the grey mare snaked her head out and tried to take a chunk out of the other horse’s neck. She snorted and danced angrily beneath me. I don’t know what had possessed me to take Sam’s horse out. The stable boy had paled when I’d led her from the stall, but when I’d told him I had Samara’s permission, he just jerked his head in a nod and practically ran away, muttering something about me having to saddle the ornery mare myself.

“Everything’s fine,” I said tightly, steering Zosa a little further away from Draven. Distance. That was what I needed. Just a little space between the two of us.

Once I had Zosa under control—or at least out of biting range—I glanced back at Draven. He was staring at the grey mare with a strange expression I couldn’t read. “If you’re thinking about saying something nasty about my mount, you should know this is Samara’s mare and she doesn’t take kindly to anyone talking shit about her horse.”

Draven smiled faintly. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Just surprised you’re riding such a magnificently vicious creature instead of a flashy, even-tempered mount.” His smile grew wider. “Maybe something with a chestnut coat that glistens like polished copper in sunlight.”

---