In fact, Bastion would rather risk breaking his own leg in the dark than ride a Thatian.
Bart tied the handsome bay to a hitching post and disappeared into the tack room while Bastion regarded the beast with his heart in his mouth and a nauseous fluttering in his stomach.The gelding held Bastion’s glare, ears swiveled forwards, his liquid brown eyes fringed by a luxurious black forelock.Down the back of his hind legs, the tell-tale stripes of the goddess’s blessing stood out in the dark.
“This is Finn,” Bart whispered as he returned.He threw a thick blanket over the horse’s back, followed by a saddle.
“Give me a different horse,” Bastion said, voice tight and low.
Bart paused from cinching the girth, only his upper face visible over Finn’s back.His eyes crinkled with a shrewd gleam.
“Afraid o’ Kinra’s wrath, are ye?”
Bastion scowled at the horse god's name.“Kinra be damned.I’ve never known a Thatian thatdidn’tget into trouble.”
Bart continued saddling Finn.“Whater’ the case, he’s the only one I’ve got.”
Bastion looked around, noticing the absence of normal stable sounds–the munching of hay, the swish of tails, contented snuffles.Finn punctuated the silence with a long sigh and shook his head.
“Bart,” Bastion began, frowning, “this is too important.We can’t take this horse.”
“Ye can and ye will,” Bart insisted.“Trust me when I say, there are just as many good stories about Thatians as there are bad–but they don’t make fer satisfactory gossip.Moonwatch is a two-day ride.Ye need a goddess-blessed beast to speed the journey.”
Bastion frowned.He didn’t believe in Kinra’s blessing or wrath, but Thatians were notoriously hot-blooded.He couldn’t fathom why Bart even had one in his stable.
Bart untied the bridle secured to the pommel of the saddle, slipped it over Finn’s head, and gently guided the bit into the horse’s mouth without banging his teeth.He buckled the chin strap and ducked under Finn’s head, shoving a pair of saddlebags already fitted with a bedroll into Bastion’s arms.
“I’ll see if Ulla’s gathered enough provisions,” he said and disappeared back into the kitchen.
Bastion looked around one more time, convinced there had to be another horse hiding somewhere.
Silence permeated the stable.
Slowly, not quite believing what he was doing, Bastion moved his things from his pack to the saddlebags.The wet shirt rolled up around the Acari pendant went in first.Something about it niggled at Bastion’s instincts, but he didn’t linger on it as he piled spare clothing and small essentials over top.He would worry about it if this damn horse managed to get them to Lord Kyrith’s keep.The rest of his things fit neatly, the green leather book going in last.
Bart returned with Ulla on his heels.She stopped dead in the doorway when she saw Finn, eyes slitted.The horse pawed at the ground impatiently.
“There’s a footpath behind the butcher’s shop that leads south into the bluffs,” Bart whispered, handing Bastion a bag of food and Ulla’s half-dry dress.“It’s a local route, so yer less likely to run into anyone unsavory.Ulla knows it.”
Bastion nodded, stuffed both items into the emptier of the two saddle bags, and secured the whole thing behind the cantle.He stepped back and raked his eyes over Finn, thinking he was about to make an egregious error.Then he took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and threw the reins over Finn's head.
The second he climbed into the saddle, every muscle in his body coiled.Bastion willed himself to relax.An unconscious twist of the reins, tensed muscles–no matter how light his hands or thick the saddle, his nerves would bleed into Finn.The last thing he needed was for the damned beast to pick up on his fears.
“Ulla,” Bastion said before remembering she couldn’t hear him.He nudged Finn towards her, offering his hand.She sucked in a breath and took a step back.
The blatant fear on her face hit him like an arrow to the chest.
Ulla met Bastion’s eyes, and for a cruel heartbeat, he thought he was on his own.
Again.
His hand hung in the air, the potential it held as fleeting as petals on the wind.Bastion wanted her safe as much as he ached at the thought of riding away from her.They’d scratched the surface of something while dancing, and he wanted to know more.
Then her expression hardened, as it had at the bar.She squared her shoulders and stepped forwards, nostrils flaring.Bastion held his breath, his hand tingling with anticipation.He never expected eternity to be the breadth of a few short steps.
All the air whooshed from his lungs as Ulla took his palm and he pulled her up behind him.Her arms wrapped around his waist in a vise-like grip as she buried her face in the hood of his cloak.
Bastion put his hand over hers and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.This entire night had gone to shit.
He turned to the innkeeper.“Take care of yourself, Bart.Thank you for all your help.”
