Page 29 of Shadow Weaver
We drew closer.
Oh, God.
Hounds.
There were fomorian hounds in the paddock—massive, fierce beasts with ridged snouts and paws the size of my head—and sitting atop them were riders. Shadow knights. They were riding the fomorian hounds.
My pulse picked up the pace as Brady led me all the way down to the training grounds until we were close enough for me to smell the sweat, feel the heat rising off the beasts, and feel the kick of dirt on my shins as they barreled past.
They ran in circles. Some had manes, others didn’t. And the riders wore full armor and no saddle. How the heck were they staying on?
“Younglings,” a female voice said.
I looked away from the beasts in surprise to find a slender, silver-haired woman standing a little way to our right. She looked young, probably not much older than me.
“They’re training,” she said. “Magnificent, aren’t they?” She smiled at me. “The female cadet. Nice to know you.” She didn’t hold out a hand, and the wording of her greeting told me she was feyblood. Tuatha descended. Maybe not so young then? Because the Tuatha descended aged super slow.
“Jemima runs the stables,” Brady explained. “She’s a natural with the hounds.”
Jemima’s cheeks flushed. “Ah, it’s nothing. They’re smart creatures.”
“But docile?” I looked to the pen. “They aren’t wild.”
“Born here, on this side of the mist. Raised by yours truly,” she said with a hint of pride. “They know our scent and our ways. They’re loyal to us. Ones born in the mist are mutated and mostly unhinged. And those from the other side are loyal to the fomori.” She looked to Brady, and her eyes lit up. “Would you like to introduce your friend to Athos?” There was a teasing note in her voice. “He’s missed you.”
Brady looked uncertain. “I don’t think he’s ready for visitors yet.”
Jemima shrugged, looking almost smug. “I suppose you may be right. Bringing astrangerinto his pen may be unwise.”
I was intrigued. “Who’s Athos?”
“A pain in the butt,” Jemima answered for Brady. “An arse to train. Wants to do things his way or no way. Henrich wanted him put down. But then Brady took a shine to him.”
Brady chuckled. “More like he took a shine to me.”
“True,” she agreed with a conspiratorial smile. “Athos is now Brady’s hound. He was assigned to him last term. But we’re still working on getting him to play nicely with other cadets. Aside from Brady, I’m the only other person who can step into his pen and not get attacked.”
My scalp prickled at her tone. It was possessive, smug, almost as if she reveled in the fact that she shared Athos with Brady, and yeah, it was probably a dumb move, but suddenly, I wanted to know the hound too. I wanted to be in the pen with it and not get attacked.
“I’d love to meet him.” I looked up at Brady. “Please.”
He looked torn, but Jemima jumped right in.
“Oh, let her see him, Brady. We’ll be right there with her. Between us, we can calm Athos down if need be.” There it was once again, that tone that suggested they were a team of some kind.
And maybe they were.
Who was I to judge or get annoyed? But heck, Iwasirritated by it, and that pissed me off more.
Brady looked unconvinced, but Jemima was already heading off toward the stables.
“Come on,” she called over her shoulder.
Brady sighed and then shrugged. “Let’s do this.”
The stables smelled of hay and manure and something sweet and pleasant. Young men dressed in britches and tunics hurried to and fro carrying buckets of raw meat.
“Feeding time,” Jemima said.
