A Promise of Fire (Kingmaker Chronicles, #1)(49)

Beta Sinta tries to talk to me, but I stay silent, afraid words won’t make it past the thickness in my throat. After thirty minutes of riding in silence, we turn west, skirting the farms outside the city instead of heading north.

“We’re staying in Kaplos?” I ask, confused.

He shakes his head, his midnight hair sliding along his neck and curling slightly around his ears. I find myself looking a little too hard at the back of his tanned neck. The spray of freckles across it is…kind of appealing.

“We’re going to a horse breeder I know.”

Oh? The horses all seem fine to me. “Why?”

“Don’t you want a horse?”

Actually, it never even occurred to me. “Now that you mention it, it would be fabulous to get away from you and… What’s your horse’s name? All this time, and I never thought to ask.”

“Horse.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s original.”

“Brown Horse,” he amends.

It’s hard not to laugh. “Much better, but I can’t afford a horse.”

“I’ll take it out of your wage.”

“Then I can’t afford to eat.”

“Don’t worry about it, Cat.”

“I don’t want you buying me a horse!” My voice comes out sharper than intended, but I don’t want to be dependent, or beholden, or anything really.

“Then ride with me.”

I weigh my options. “I’d rather starve and have a horse.”

He doesn’t argue. Maybe he saw how many spice cakes I consumed over the last few days and thinks cutting back would do me good.

The farm we stop at is only a midsized affair, but I can tell just from the upkeep of the fences that we’ll find high-quality animals here.

“Take your pick,” Beta Sinta says after the breeder gives us a demonstration of five horses he thinks would suit me.

I glance at him, surprised. I thought he’d choose for me. “I don’t know anything about horses. The last time I had a choice, I was too young to care about anything other than pretty or not pretty.”

He slides me a long look. I never volunteer information about my past, so I’m surprised when he doesn’t press for more. He points to a chestnut whose reddish coat gleams in the sun. “He’s the right size and fairly placid.”

“Why do I need placid?”

He hits me with his hard stare. “Because then at least one of you will stay calm.”

“Calm is boring,” I retort.

His white teeth flash, and his gray eyes crinkle at the corners. “Absolutely,” he agrees, looking at me with undisguised heat in his eyes.

My stomach flips over in a way that makes me want to throw up for a variety of reasons, but significantly lessens the urge to argue.

I take a deep breath. “The chestnut, then?”

“Or that gray.” He nods to a horse the color of dirty snow with four black socks and a dark muzzle. “He’s fast.”

“Faster than the chestnut?”

Beta Sinta nods. “But the chestnut can run, too. He’s powerful enough.”

“He. He. What about a girl horse?”

He shakes his head. “You don’t want a mare.”

“Why not?”

He angles his head toward mine, his eyes still smiling. I don’t think my eyes are even capable of smiling. “Females are temperamental,” he says with a roguish grin.

My eyes narrow, and I give him a hearty shove. Playfully, he shoves me back. I land on my ass.

“For the Gods’ sakes,” I mutter.

Beta Sinta looks surprised. “You fall over too easily.”

“Excuse me for being half your size!”

“Next time, I’ll remember that,” he says, extending his hand to me.

Next time? Next time! I pop up and launch myself at him. I’m not quite sure why.

Flynn, who’s on my other side, catches me in midair. “We’re a team, Cat, remember? No fighting.” Roped with muscle, Flynn’s arm covers my entire midsection. I go limp, blowing sweat-dampened curls out of my eyes. All these stupid rules of camaraderie! Gag!

Beta Sinta grins at me. Flynn sets me down.

“So which horse do you want?” Beta Sinta asks as if I hadn’t just tried to get into a brawl with him for no apparent reason. He’s just… He’s just so… Argh!

“The chestnut,” I answer sourly. “At least one of us will stay calm.”

*

I like having my own horse, and traveling with the Sintans without being tied up is actually kind of fun—something I would die a thousand horrific deaths before ever admitting to them. Carver thinks my sword technique could use work, so he offers to spar with me. Having seen him wield a blade, I can’t say no.

We circle, weapons raised. Kato is off hunting, Flynn is on watch, and Beta Sinta is polishing his sword, keeping an eye on us. My attacks are child’s play for Carver. He’s so fluid with a blade that I start to wonder if there’s something magical about his ability, some magic I can’t steal, or even feel. After an hour of practicing, I’m tired and sweaty, and I haven’t landed a single hit.

Frustrated, I spin out of a deadlock before Carver disarms me or pushes me to the ground again. Before I can turn back around, he spanks me with the flat of his sword. It stings, and I howl.