Pedro turned to Ulrich and opened his arms wide. "I'm here, as requested. Release Anne." His voice rang with unbreakable authority.
"So soon? And keep my lovely plaything from her entertainment? Don't you think the foreign dove should learn of our pleasures?" Ulrich caressed a strand of her hair, and when she flinched from his touch, he twisted the strands in his grasp.
Pain coursed through her scalp, but she clamped her mouth shut to keep her cry inside. Pedro needed his wits to defend himself, and her distress would distract him.
Ulrich clapped his hands, the strident call resounding in the arena. The wooden gate swung. Hooves chafed the sand, followed by a terrible bawl that lifted the hairs on her nape.
A bull trotted inside, black coat gleaming under the unforgivable sun. Anne couldn't look away from the yard-long horns. Ulrich had bragged bulls were selected for uncommon strength and ferocity. Still, nothing had prepared her for the gargantuan beast, his heavy breathing lifting plumes of sand into the air.
For a breathless moment, her prince and the creature faced each other.
Ulrich squealed and bounced on his seat, his black eyes oozing excitement. "Look at them. The bull is planning his best attack. Your former lover will have the honor of being killed by the besttouroin Portugal."
The bull lowered its head, and Anne cried out. "Stop this madness, please."
"Smile,querida. Otherwise, I will think you are not enjoying the spectacle."
No, no, no. Her eyes darted from the bull to Ulrich, her mouth so dry she could not swallow her own saliva. Her legs and arms shaking, her chest so tight she feared it might crush her heart, Anne pleaded, "Let him go, and I will do whatever you want."
“You love him.” He grabbed her chin painfully, examining her eyes. "A loving heart can fit a vain count, but not pride. Interesting. But for what I have in mind, your obedience is not required. I'm charmed at this turn of events, though. An English maiden offering her company, a proud aristocrat providing the recreation. Not bad for an emigrant from Madeira Island. Not bad at all."
Anne recoiled from his scrutiny, realizing she had just given him more ammunition to use in his cruel games. A low-pitched report, like thunder rumbling, sounded from the back of the arena. Ulrich signaled impatiently for his guards to check the noise.
The bull pawed the ground once, twice, and lowered its rectangular head, displaying ivory horns. Pedro flexed his knees, his hands stretched like claws in front of his chest.
With an ear-splitting bellow, the bull charged, speeding like a black locomotive, tons of muscle barraging forward, spear-like horns aimed at the man she loved.
Ulrich shot to his feet, gripped by an unnatural excitement, and held to the railing, a sick smile contorting his lips.
Pedro veered gracefully to the left as the bull careened to the other side of the arena.
The guards had yet to return, and Ulrich was so engrossed by the bull he would not notice if…
Anne felt for her knife in the folds of her dress and shot to her feet. She could end this. She must. Anne hardened her stomach and forced herself to grab the knife. Glancing around nervously, she plodded in his direction. Her chest shook violently, and her arm fell limply to her side. Anne shut her eyes and rebuked herself. She couldn't kill him.
A neigh, shrill and desperate, lifted all the hairs in her body. Erebus.
She knew how to help Pedro.
She raced away from Ulrich, making her way among the chairs liningthe bleachers, her steps clumsy, her hands trembling. Through the dusty wood planks, she saw Pedro remove his coat and wave it like a flag as the bull charged again.
How long could he keep the bull from tearing him up? Lungs burning, she gained speed and reached the exit of the second-floor platform when Ulrich's shouted displeasure froze the blood in her veins. Anne forced her feet forward.
Hoping her instincts were right, she followed the rhythmic pounding of Erebus’s hooves. She arrived at a paddock hidden under the bleachers. The stallion pummeled the ground, head lifted, ears pricked.
When she dragged herself into the paddock, he fixed her with his fathomless black eyes. She lifted her palms in submission. The last time she had come near the war horse, he had tried to trample her. Cooing softly, her voice brittle with her need to cry, she shifted closer. All the while, he observed her, his gaze bright with uncanny intelligence.
Murmuring praises, she unlatched the reins from the wooden post. Erebus stood stock still, as if restraining himself not to frighten her. She tugged the reins, and he followed her to the arena's entrance. Not for a second did she fear his hooves or his teeth. Going on her toes to reach between his ears, Anne removed Erebus’s bridle.
Then she crashed her shoulder into the arena's gate, swinging it open.
Erebus charged, his long mane flying like a black halo, powerful legs pumping the sand, coat gleaming ebony light, the pure expression of a Greek God of Darkness.
Oblivious to the new threat, the bull charged Pedro again. Anne screamed as the beast's horns grazed his torso.
Erebus reared, front legs ramming the air. It was over ten feet of horse, reaching more than double the bull's height. The beast halted.
Anne leaned her weight on the gate, catching her breath, relief making her dizzy.
