Page 72 of The Last Wish of Bristol Keats
CHAPTER 53
The barn bustled with stable hands preparing horses for the Choosing Ceremony. “This way,” Master Woodhouse said as he walked Bristol out to the meadow where her horse waited. It had been two days since they first “met” the horses at Badbe Garrison. The rest of her squad had already been matched with their horses and waited nearby.
“There she is. Her name is Zandra, and she has chosen you,” Master Woodhouse declared with pride.
Bristol eyed the beautiful horse. She was magnificent, her long white mane shimmering in the sun, but Zandra was reluctant to approach, despite Master Woodhouse beckoning her over. Bristol didn’t feel chosen. More like the last person to be picked for the team. Bristol was all that was left, and now Zandra was stuck with her.
She was smaller than the other horses, and standoffish. She finally approached when Master Woodhouse clucked his tongue in a disapproving manner. An arm’s length away, she stopped and sniffed.
“I don’t blame you, Zandra,” Bristol said. “I’m not much to look at. But look at you—you’re a queen. Shall we make the best of it? I thank you for your service, and I’ll try not to shame you.”
Zandra’s fierce eyes met Bristol’s, the same fire deep in her pupils as with all the Tuatha de steeds. The regal horse stared, in challenge or curiosity, Bristol wasn’t sure. She circled Bristol, sizing her up, and then she bowed, allowing Bristol onto her back.
“See?” Master Woodhouse said. “She was waiting for you. And don’t let her size fool you. She’s the fastest of the bunch.”
Bristol’s squad was within earshot, and two of their horses whinnied in protest.
Zandra’s ears twitched in agreement with the stable master. She had spotted the one called Bristol two days earlier at the garrison. She was curious about her, but it was the king who had chosen Zandra for the woman, a mortal of no particular renown. Not a royal. Zandra was insulted at first—Tuatha de steeds usually chose their own riders. The king put Zandra through the paces. He was very exacting in what he expected, and apparently Zandra’s performance pleased him. August had been overly nosy about the whole thing, but it was none of his business. In the end, Zandra thought the king chose well. She would have chosen Bristol on her own, and she liked her already—humble, respectful, and calling Zandra a queen was a nice touch.Fastest of the bunch. August would be stewing all day when he heard about that. And she would make sure he did.
“Now, you all get acquainted and go,” Master Woodhouse said.
They were headed to the rim of the valley surrounding the Stone of Destiny to map out coordinates on the other end, and to bond with their new horses. On the day of the ceremony, both man and beast had to work in unison. It would not be the day to get acquainted.
“That’s it? Go?” Hollis asked.
“No special training? Just go?” Avery added softly, her timid side resurfacing.
Master Woodhouse frowned. “Of course. You’ve already had your horse training, and these majestic creatures have all had their fae training. Nothing more to teach any of you now. Fae and horse just need to fall into the same rhythm—listen to the magic pulsing in each other’s veins.”
Avery turned quietly to the others. “I think I need a little more time to find the magic.”
“We’re not in a rush,” Julia said.
Bristol patted Zandra’s neck. “You don’t mind waiting a few minutes, do you, Queen?”
As they waited, Julia pulled Bristol aside. “Tyghan did a fine job yesterday,” she said.
“The binding ritual?” Bristol replied. “Yes, he—”
Julia laughed. “That too. But he was exceptional at holding his tongue when he saw the guests in the first row. I saw him eyeing them.”
Bristol smiled. “Yes, astonishing. He even danced with most of them. Cosette was floating. It was the best gift he could have given her.”
“I heard Cosette call him brother,” Julia said, still laughing. “He choked on his drink but recovered quickly.”
“He’s coming around in many ways. What about that guest in the second row? What did you think of him?”
Julia’s brows pulled together, trying to recall.
Bristol stepped closer. “Cael,” she whispered. “The long-haired elven that no one knew. If anyone had tried to see under his glamour . . .”
Julia rolled her eyes. “Oh,him. Yes, I wondered. Though no one would be expecting Cael at his sister’s wedding. Officially, he’s still a prisoner. And he still doesn’t really match his completely perfect portrait. But he probably never did.”
“I question his judgment, Julia. I’m wondering if he’s even fit to—”
“Shhh,” Julia said gently, glancing around at the nearby stable hands. She moved closer to Bristol. “I’ve had my doubts too.”
They talked about alternatives, keeping their voices low. Julia laughed when Bristol suggested strapping him to her horse again and giving him back to Fomoria.
