Rhoswyn
This is not working.
After a day of staring at books with Kitarni, Drystan surprised us both by dragging me away from the books and down to the stables. We’ve been standing in this corner of the paddock with this shaggy bay-coloured mare since we arrived. I’ve tried to mount her at least half a dozen times.
And by tried to mount, I mean failed to get my leg up to the stirrup.
Unfortunately, even though the stable master assured me this is the smallest horse in the entire royal stable, she’s still too tall for me. The ungodly angle Drystan expects my leg to reach so I can slip my foot into that strip of leather just isn’t happening.
I’m flexible, but no one is that flexible.
“Can you not just lift me?” I ask, grimacing at how incompetent I sound.
Drystan’s harsh glare cuts right through me. “No.”
“But…”
“In an emergency, you need to be able to mount a horse by yourself.”
“Blizzard knelt last time.” I glance back at the stables where I snuck the huge black warhorse an apple before Drystan led me and the mare out here.
“Blizzard is far more intelligent than an ordinary horse, and you still barely made it onto his back.”
“For all the good that did me.” The dark mutter escapes me before I can hold it back.
“We’ll work on avoiding enemy fire once you’ve managed to get in the saddle.” Drystan’s tone has become as dark as mine.
“I thought I was safe here,” I retort, swiping for the stirrup with my foot once more. “You said that no one could get past the wall.”
“That is obviously no longer true, given that Caed is currently in the dungeon.”
He finally loses patience and moves into my personal space. “Stop kicking it. Grab the pommel of the saddle, pull yourself up and then loop your foot into the stirrup if you’re struggling so hard.”
I can barely reach the lump of leather on the top of the saddle that he’s talking about.
“Even if it wasn’t an issue, you have three days to learn how to ride well enough to join the Hunt.”
That freezes me in place with my hand searching the air above the mare for my elusive pommel. “Join the hunt? I can’t hunt. I can’t even shoot a bow.”
Even if I could, surely doing such a thing from horseback is infinitely more complicated than simply shooting while standing.
“That’s also not true. One of the powers of Nicnevin Titania, who you seem to trust so much, was a perfect aim. She was a legendary hunter.” Without looking at me, he grabs my hand—not reacting to the jolt which passes through us both at the contact—and places it in the correct place. “Regardless, there’s no archery required. The Nicnevin is a ceremonial figure. All you have to do is stay atop a well-trained horse and not plummet to your death.”
His weird phrasing is what finally triggers the realisation he’s not talking about any old hunt.
“Wait… you don’t mean…” I chew on my lip, suddenly second guessing myself. “The Wild Hunt? That hunt?”
He sighs, and his eyes flick heavenward for a second before he puts his hands around my waist and picks me bodily off the ground, depositing me in the saddle with a huff of irritation.
I’m above him now, if only by a little bit. It’s enough of a difference that I can see down past the high collar of the deep navy jacket he’s wearing to the black ribbon lying flat against his neck.
“Are you one of them?” I ask, frowning. “Titania called you huntsman, and you didn’t want to answer in front of the others… is that because you’re sworn to secrecy or something? Will I have to be too?” Before he can even answer, I think of something else. “Is that why you can lose your head without dying? Is that a—?”
“Do you ever stop asking questions?” he snaps.
I flinch, and the horse beneath me paws the ground nervously. My lips seal shut, and I clutch the saddle reflexively.
“Hey! Don’t be a dick.”