Page 17 of Power of Five
“Heels down, head up, mortal. Not the other bloody way around.”
I climb back into the saddle, my body shaking.
Coal’s voice is hard, merciless. As if falling, not riding, was the day’s expectation all along. “You do know the difference between up and down?”
“You are an ass,” I tell him, gripping the saddle as he starts the horse trotting again.
“So the grain sack speaks.” Coal clicks his tongue and the horse quickens. “Let go of the saddle, grain sack. Holding the pommel shifts your balance. Head up. Get your heels off his sides unless—”
The horse’s muscles bunch and he leaps into a sprint. I scream and fall to the sand, rolling away from the thundering hooves. Stars damn it. Two bloody hours. I’ve been falling for two hours, my body is one large bruise, and my stomach growls in starvation. The damn males made riding look easy, the horses living extensions of their powerful bodies. I strike the ground with my palm, sending clumps of sand into the air.
“Are you here to train or throw a tantrum?” Coal glares at me from above.
“Screw you,” I hiss back.
“Get up, grain sack.”
I swipe the back of my hand over my mouth.
“Get. Up.” The pitch of Coal’s voice is low, the demand harsh as ice. Eyes still on me, he retrieves the gelding and whistles for the stable boy, handing off the horse while I’m still finding my feet. “You’ve lost your riding privileges until you can prove to me that you are not a whiny child incapable of controlling her emotions.”
I dust my clothes off and glare silently at Coal. If he thinks he is going to scare me into surrendering, into becoming their tame little piece of human chattel to drag to the Citadel for castration, he can bloody think again. Yes. My hands curl into fists, the inferno of fury burning self-pity to a crisp. “I await your instruction, O Great One.”
“Since you appear so fond of falling, we will work on that,” Coal says coolly. “Chin down when you hit the sand, and slap it with your arm. Another of your favorite tricks, I’ve noted. You’ll be a natural.”
I give him a vulgar gesture.
Coal seizes my arm and launches me through the air. I have one moment to realize that I’m flying before the ground rises up to meet me and I land hard on my back, the impact echoing through every abused bone and muscle. My breath hitches, making me fight for air.
“Chin down. Slap the sand,” Coal repeats, as if my problem lies with my hearing. “Get up and do it again.”
I don’t want to. It was bad enough falling from horseback when the goal was to stay on. Now there is no chance of not slamming into the ground. I climb up to my knees, the world swaying a bit, and swallow, my eyes finally stinging. Maybe that’s what Coal was aiming for all along.
I am not going to cry,I shout in my mind, my teeth sinking into my lip hard enough to draw blood.
Coal lowers to one knee beside me. “What did you imagine would happen, mortal?” he demands softly. “Did you imagine you were joining an embroidery guild? That there would be no pain? No bruises? No feeling like you’d rather die than work a moment longer but doing it anyway?”
“I thought I’d have a chance,” I whisper.
“You don’t.” Coal rises, dusting off his pants. “Come find me when you are ready to work.”
