“Key, please,” Lawrence said.
Cedric’s demeanor wilted.He took a step back.
“Milord… that’s a Thatian.They’re dangerous.”
A splinter of contempt entered his voice, and he flashed Bastion a look, as though condemning him for his choice of mount.
“I’m aware,” Lawrence said gently.“And if he colics, Kinra will surely visit her wrath upon whoever let his water dry up.”
Cedric froze, his limbs rigid as tree branches.Then he fumbled with the keys on his belt.
“I’ll deal with him if you bring me a fresh bucket,” Bastion said.
He held out his hand.The keys jangled as Cedric passed them over and fled.Bastion grabbed a brush and returned to the stall door.It took a moment to find the right key, but when he did, he let the padlock drop to the dirt floor before he tossed the ring to Lawrence.
Finn wickered as Bastion stepped inside, snuffling at his pockets for more treats.Amused, Bastion withdrew a smashed biscuit, took a bite, and offered the rest to the gelding.
As Bastion got to work on Finn, Lawrence rested his arms along the top of the stall door.The Thatian regarded him with an unsettling amount of intelligence.
By the time Cedric returned with a bucket of clean water, Bastion had dealt with the worst of Finn’s grooming needs.Lawrence swung the door open, and Cedric handed the bucket through.
Bastion took it but grabbed the hostler’s bicep before he could run again.
“This horse is the only reason we arrived in time to warn Lady Nesrin,” Bastion said, his voice even.“I expect him to be better taken care of.”
Cedric had the decency to look ashamed.Damp hair clung to his forehead.His eyes darted between Bastion and Finn before landing on Lawrence, who gave a minuscule shrug.“You heard the man.”
“Y-yes, sir,” Cedric stuttered.
Bastion released him.“Thank you.”
Cedric swallowed, nodded, and retreated.
Once Bastion had traded out the empty bucket for the full one, he bent to get at the gelding’s chest, currying between his front legs and along where the girth would be cinched.
“Your lady has been very generous with her gifts,” Lawrence said.
Bastion stilled.He stood and faced Lawrence, a nervous flutter battering his gut like a steel butterfly.
“She’s not my lady.”
The other man raised an eyebrow.
“The way she defended you last night suggests otherwise,” Lawrence drolled.“Yvri women don’t stand up for men of no consequence.”
Bastion turned his back.“We barely know each other.”
“So?Time is an illusion that less decisive men lean on to justify not taking action.When souls recognize each other, time doesn’t matter.”
Bastion laid down long, firm strokes across Finn’s back.
“And the pod that freed us onThe Basilisk?”he asked.“They seemed to think they had some claim to her.”
When there was no response, Bastion glanced over his shoulder.Lawrence squinted at him, as if he couldn’t quite make out his shape.
“Would you let others make decisions for her?”
Bastion scoffed and returned to brushing Finn.“I’d like to see them try.”
