The Iron Butterfly (Iron Butterfly #1)(40)

The Denai today are nothing but a faint echo of what the Denai were at one time in all of their glory and beauty. Syrani’s earlier statements about bloodlines made sense. It made me wonder what blood ran through my veins and what I was now. For I couldn’t possibly be human anymore and I wasn’t Denai; so what else did that leave? Something inhuman?

My body gave a shudder at the thought of the Raven and his experiments. The numerous serums and colored vials of potions he injected me with. I remember screaming for hours at the pain, and feeling as if my insides were turning out. Maybe Breah was right. Maybe I was a monster.

Sighing in frustration I closed the book and put it on my shelf, reminding myself to thank the professor for it. I had no sooner closed and latched the window when a huge raven smashed into the glass with a loud thud, making me jump. The bird was huge, at least three times larger than a normal raven. My heart pumped in fear as it kept trying to force itself into the window, pecking, cawing and scratching at the glass.

Pressing myself against the bookshelf, I watched in horror as it bashed itself until it was a bloody mess, cracking the glass. The bird’s eyes looked dead and glassed over. It finally flew away cawing and screeching.

I thanked the stars that I wasn’t sitting in the window seat any longer, if that had happened ten seconds earlier, I would have been seriously injured. I knew it had to be coincidence that I was thinking about the Raven and his experiments, and then a few moments later one flew into my window. But coincidence or not, I didn’t want to stay in my room because I felt a little spooked sitting here alone.

Jumping up, I grabbed my cloak and headed down the nearest stairwell to freedom. Breathing a sigh of relief as I felt the fresh air hit my face, I made my way toward the stables. Over the past weeks, I had made many trips here to spend time with the horses. The stable master had grown used to my presence and would often hand me a curry comb or a pick on my way in, knowing that I would put both to use as I was not one to sit idle. I smiled in greeting when I saw Stable Master Grese.

“See if you can do anything with that new one?” Master Grese said. “He’s not letting anyone near him. We may have to get rid of him.”

I nodded in answer. Making my way over to the newcomer horse, I verbally introduced myself and slowly stuck my hand over the stall near his nostrils. I had learned this was the easiest way to get him used to my scent. The horse was at least 16 hands tall and was so dirty with mud it was impossible to tell his true coat color.

The horse tried to bite my hand and I pulled it back quickly. Nickering and flicking his head, he stomped in impatience.

“Wherever did you find this one?” I called to Master Grese.

“Strangest thing I ever saw, I found him standing outside the main gate as if he was waiting to be let inside. Put up a fight when we tried to approach him, but he wouldn’t leave the vicinity of the gate. Only took five of us to rope and bring him in, and we haven’t been able to touch him since.” Master Grese came over and shook his head. “He’s got such spirit. I would hate to break it.”

“What are you calling him?” I asked.

“Faraway,” he grumbled.

I chuckled at the absurd look on Masters Grese’s face.

“Okay, I’ll bite, why are you calling him Faraway?”

Master Grese grinned as he continued. “It’s because that’s where I want to be, whenever I get near him…very far away!”

Throwing my head back I laughed, startling Faraway as he shied away, bumping into the stall. I felt a light touch of amusement skim my mind. The feeling was so foreign I jumped and looked about.

Not seeing anyone except for Master Grese’s retreating figure, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a carromint cookie. It wasn’t the same kind that Darren made, but I had Donn the cook experiment with some similar ingredients. Breaking the cookie in half I stood on tiptoe and slowly lowered my hand over the stall. The warm breath and the whiskers of the horse’s muzzle tickled my hand as I froze, fearing to make any sudden movements.

“Shah. Shah,” I intoned, trying to calm the horse. To get him used to my voice, I began to tell him of my horrible first day of classes, the whole while feeding him smaller portions of the carromint cookie.

After what felt like eternity, he began to let me stroke him, and I slipped into the stall and rubbed my hands down his flank, feeling the fullness of his muscles. Underneath all of the dirt was a fine specimen of a horse. And I told him so, somehow knowing that all horses are inherently vain.

“You are extremely dirty, and I happen to know for a fact that we have some mares that are very picky when it comes to their stallions. We can’t have them meeting you like this now, can we? So you’d better behave or I’m going to brush the other stallions down and leave you looking a mess,” I warned the horse.

Grabbing the brush I began to brush him with the same motions as I was previously doing with my hands. The horse stood absolutely still while I bathed and brushed him down, almost as if he was afraid I really would leave him dirty.

What I thought to be a spotted gray coat actually turned a beautiful solid white. I brushed Faraway until he shone and tackled his white mane with the curry comb. I spoke in low tones, telling him how handsome he was now that he was clean and how he would be the envy of all the other stallions.

Deciding to test my luck, since he was being so good, I approached his flank and cleaned his hooves. Noticing that he had never been shod, I felt a trickle of trepidation. I had been under the assumption that Faraway was just a runaway horse and had been broken at one time. But here was proof that he was wild, and wild horses could be dangerous.