Confusing and quick and captivating.
When the sun arrives again, we visit the stables and I show off Ivory and the other horses. Cyar is in love with each one, complimenting them from withers to fetlock. Athan hangs back. He pats Ivory in her stall once, then retreats again to a safe distance in the alleyway.
“Come on,” I tease, “you fly an aeroplane. You’re not allowed to be scared of this.”
“My plane doesn’t get moody when it’s hungry,” he replies, serious.
Cyar rolls his eyes and scratches Ivory’s neck. She relaxes into his touch. “You’d like Rahmet, Princess. Everyone has a horse. In the spring, we celebrate the change in season with a festival, the best horses on display. They hold riding contests that anyone can enter, even the girls—and the girls usually win.”
I must have a dreamy look on my face, because Athan shakes his head and says, “Don’t let him fool you. Rahmet’s full of snakes and spiders the size of your hand. Far from magical.”
“Ah, but when the sun sets on the red rocks?” Cyar brushes Ivory’s forelock to the side. “Everything turns to gold. The only thing more beautiful is my girl.”
That earns him my romantic sigh.
Athan nudges my shoulder. “He even writes poetry.”
Cyar grins. “Only when I’m drunk.”
“Little sunflower, shining in the light—”
“Shut up, Erelis.”
I laugh and drag Athan closer to Ivory again. I like the excuse to touch him. “See? She won’t hurt you, I promise.”
He rests a hand on her back. “Good enough?”
“No. You have to pat her neck.”
He obliges awkwardly, uncertain, and Cyar leaves us in the stall alone. I step closer to Athan. The air shimmers with dust, smelling like mud and hay and that special scent unique to horses. It’s everything I love. Hesitantly, I rest my hand on his, helping him settle into a more certain rhythm.
“She’s soft,” he admits quietly.
“She is,” I say.
His skin feels warm beneath mine, and even though I know I can let go, let him do this on his own, I don’t. His hands are gentle. Like he’s touching a baby bird. I think of them operating one of those beautiful aeroplanes, through the reaches of sky I’ll never see, and it seems breathtaking in its beauty. Something godlike that shouldn’t exist. I remember the way his hands felt around my waist when we danced, warm and weakening. If only he’d touch me again. I want to savour it more completely. His hands choosing me, for a moment, above anything else.
Hands that will kill or be killed in a place far from here.
I pull myself from him.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, rubbing my arms. “Shall we see the other horses?”
He nods, looking a bit confused, disappointed even, and we step into the alley, latching Ivory’s door.
Cyar’s halted at another stall down the way. He looks sad, staring through the iron bars, and I know whose stall it is.
Liberty.
Cyar’s hand grips the bars. “What happened to him?”
“He was injured in a race,” I say. “They hose the leg down every day but it’s still swelling. He’s stopped eating.” I can’t hide my grief.
“Bring him out,” Cyar says. It’s the closest thing to an order I’ve heard from him yet.
But I do it, and Liberty stumbles into the alley, favouring the injury. Cyar drops down, feeling the swollen tendons, careful and quick. “Do you have rosemary oil?”
“I’m sure we do.”
“Your groom should put that directly on the leg. It will ease the pain.” He considers a moment, still on one knee. “There’s a flower we have at home, it’s called jurica. I don’t know what it would be called here. It grows near rivers. Has a red spiked top.”
“A spiked top…” I try to think of everything I’ve seen out in the woods. “Like a star with a yellow middle?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“I’ve seen that.” A bit of excitement rises. “Can it help?”
“It can bring back the appetite,” Cyar says, standing quickly. “Show me where you think it is.”
I nod and thrust Liberty’s lead at Athan. “Hold him. We’ll be back!”
Athan stares at us, then at Liberty’s giant head, then back at us. “Hang on, I don’t—”
Cyar and I are already running down the alleyway and out into the warm sun.
We gallop for the river, diving into the wet grass along the ditches, finding ourselves ankle-deep in mud. My shoe nearly comes off, and despite Liberty’s miserable state, we can’t help but laugh. I really didn’t ever expect to be mucking through the river with a Safire soldier. What would Heathwyn think? But I spot the desired plant first, raising it triumphantly.
“Water-willow,” I say.
“Jurica,” Cyar corrects, and we both grin.
When we burst back into the shade of the stable, I dissolve into laughter all over again. Cyar, too. There’s Athan, cornered by Liberty’s huge, curious frame at the back of the alley. Athan has the lead by the absolute farthest end, entirely useless, hands raised. “It’s attacking me!” he exclaims.
“He’ll never survive Thurn,” Cyar says to me.
“Please take care of him,” I reply.
Then we go smiling into the grain room together and mix a paste with the jurica plant, and I hope to the stars the people of Rahmet have discovered the miracle to save my brother’s horse.
ATHAN
With each passing day, my mission loses its relevance at a remarkable pace. Aurelia reveals no fatal secrets about her mother, not even when I try to press her about the protests I’ve caught rumour of. She navigates around the issue quickly, and the only secrets she hints at are the ones that have meaning for me alone—half-hidden looks and little smiles. Tempting things. When Father asks me what I did for a week, I’m not going to have any kind of answer he’ll appreciate hearing.
“I mostly thought about kissing her” won’t go over well.
That would only put me in league with Arrin.
But now we’re sitting here, wet with river water, basking in the sun, and I just don’t care. The Prince showed up right as we launched our narrow rowboats into the river. He was trying a new strategy. Smiling and acting cheerful. Clever, because Aurelia adores him for it. She thinks he’s coming around. He even opted to row with Cyar, leaving Aurelia with me, and the whole thing quickly became a race—with three boys, it was inevitable. We would have won, too, if Aurelia hadn’t put her paddle into a half-submerged tree. She scrambled, using far too much force, yanking, and then we were sidelong into the rough current. Capsized in a moment.
Cyar, the traitor, paddled on with the Prince, both caught up in the competition of it.
We chose the sunny shore.
“I think you’ve lost your best friend,” Aurelia says as they disappear from sight, stretching herself out on the grass. She’s clearly pleased to have her brother playing with the Safire.
“Or perhaps you’ve just lost an heir to the throne.”
“Is that a threat, Lieutenant?” She doesn’t sound a bit suspicious, which proves how wrongly I’ve tangled this up. Or rightly. I can’t tell.
“You know, you look pretty even half-drowned,” I offer, trying distraction.
She smiles and shrugs, hands plucking dandelions, as if I’m saying something inconsequential. She does that well. One little turn of her cheek and whatever I’ve said becomes nothing. It wouldn’t bother me so much if I weren’t trying.
But I am.
She leans over and rubs a dandelion against my bare arm, leaving a yellow mark behind.
“What was that for?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” She does it again, hand brushing my skin. “Come on, show me how you think under pressure, pilot boy,” she teases.
I pretend not to care, as if I’m not bothered enough to move, but all I can think about is her touch. Her dark eyes are brighter in the light, like dark honey.
A large drop of rain lands on her cheek, and she wrinkles her nose in an endearing way, glancing at the sky. “Stars, what’s this?”
“I believe in Landori those are called clouds.”
“Ah, you’re quite brilliant, Athan.”
“Thank you, Ali.”