Page 137 of Halfling
He was always in awe of his mate’s skills.
She rode from the stables just then, sitting tall in the saddle. The bay she showed today positively glowed in the morning light, brushed to a high shine. Aoife pointed and explained every detail as Sorcha led the horse through its paces.
He’d never realized there was so much to know about horses, but in the time he’d been with the Brádaighs, he knew enough to recognize a canter from a trot, a whinny from a neigh. Sorcha expertly led the horse through an easy trot around the paddock, then into a fast, pounding gallop. She stood in the stirrups as the horse ran, showing off the even gait, and used only little presses of her thighs to guide him through a weaving sidestep.
It was magnificent. Sorcha shone as brightly as the winter sun with a smile so wide her freckles danced. Her curls bounced wildly, making him think of ancient goddesses of war the old stories spoke of.
The first demonstration he’d seen, Connor had joined her and they’d had a mock spar on horseback. The horses didn’t flinch away from the sounds of smacking weapons and trusted their riders. For all that it was Connor who was a knight and trained daily with his father and brother, Sorcha held her own, wielding her weapon with a fluid grace that echoed the elegant lines of her mount. It was so much more beautiful than the brutal brawling he’d taught her on their journey north.
Today’s demonstration was just Sorcha, though she did take up a spear to show that the horse was at ease with its rider wielding a weapon. She made several more circles through the paddock, eventually ending in front of the patrons. Sorcha stood in the saddle to bow, and the horse knelt on its front legs.
The patrons clapped, their praise puffing in the cold air, and Aoife beamed proudly, throwing Sorcha a wink. His heart swelled to see his mate’s gratified smile. She deserved the praise and more. Sorcha dismounted to walk the horse over to the patrons to let them stroke and admire him.
Straightening from the shadows, something from the corner of his eye caught Orek’s attention.
The hairs at the back of his neck prickled, and Orek searched the bare orchard trees and outbuildings, looking for whatever had drawn his gaze. With the leaves gone and the sky clear for now, there were few shadows to hide in out there, and after a long moment, Orek finally turned away, seeing nothing.
Still, the feeling of being watched wouldn’t leave him. He walked slowly back into the stables, eyes searching the distance for…anything. All the maimed creatures he’d seen in his outings with Calum itched at the back of his mind.
When he still saw nothing, Orek huffed—and scented nothing amiss, either.
The beast inside him remained restless but hunkered down without an obvious threat to confront.
Finally, he turned into the stables. There were still many chores to do despite the cold, and the more he could do himself, the quicker his mate would surrender to being ushered back into the warm house.
“Ireally don’t want to discuss it right now, papa.”
“Why not? You aren’t busy.”
Sorcha scowled at her father over Fiora’s back. She was plenty busy, trying to get the horses under her care brushed and settled so she and her frozen fingers could hustle back into the house. Her mother had promised warm cider to celebrate another successful demonstration, and she just wanted a hot mug and an hour to snuggle with her halfling.
Instead, her father thought now would be an excellent time to have this conversation.Again.
Ciaran had always taken a serious interest in his children’s futures, pushing them to explore what it was they wanted to make of themselves. He’d brought this up to Sorcha countless times, but back then, his time had been limited to his leave and he had so many children to pester on the subject that Sorcha escaped the brunt of it.
Now, though, her father seemed determined to drive her from home.
Feeling cranky and more than a little uncharitable after waking up early with nerves and to prepare the horses, the last thing she wanted to do today was justify her life choices to her father.Again.
Coming around Fiora, her father planted his fists on his hips and gave her his most imperious frown. That frown had subdued many criminals and scolded many children, but Sorcha had grown immune over the years.
“I just think that winter is an excellent time to consider your options. Especially given recent developments.”
She squinted at him, not sure whichrecent developmentshe meant but feeling defensive anyway.He better not mean Orek…
“You and Aislinn have been friends for a long while. Now that she is heir, I’m sure there are opportunities for you. She needs people around her she can trust.”
“To do what?”
“Whatever she needs. It’s an honor to serve,” Ciaran reminded her. “Governing this land is important, Sorcha. We have to keep our people safe.” A shadow passed over his eyes, and Sorcha knew guilt still gnawed at him that his own daughter had been snatched by slavers, sold out by his lord’s own son.
“If Aislinn wants me for something, I’m sure she’ll say,” Sorcha deferred.
“Or you could go tell her you’re ready and willing to serve. Now is the time, before she becomes Lady Darrow and is surrounded by supplicants.”
“I should just be an early supplicant, you mean?” she spat.
Of course, the idea of helping Aislinn, of serving her in some sort of role had crossed Sorcha’s mind. She wasn’t opposed to the idea, especially not if she could make a difference for her people and her friend—but how her father framed it now made Sorcha want to wash off with the most abrasive soap she could find.
