Page 48 of Witch’s Ruin

“And, he is a fine horse. Finer than mine, even. How did you come by him?”

I blinked. There was nothing malicious in his voice. He genuinely wanted to know. I hid my surprise. I’d spent so long villainizing him, that it caught me off guard.

“My father fancies himself somewhat of a horse collector and expert,” Rixon explained, failing to hide exactly what he thought of that.

“Mind your tongue, boy,” the king said, turning back to me. I was careful to keep my face smooth. “Well?”

“I helped to birth him, if you must know. Akeron mares have a hard time of it, compared to most. Their narrow builds make it challenging. I had to drag him out.”

The king’s brows rose. “You know something of horses, then?”

Rixon snorted but said nothing.

“A fair bit more than you, I would wager,” I answered, half expecting him to bristle at my obvious jibe.

Instead, he merely rubbed his chin. “You know what makes them prized, then? The Akeron?”

“Aside from their rarity? Akerons are a mixed breed, Your Majesty. Initially, they were regarded skeptically. A mix of Bravian to make them beautiful and smart, Lagara Quarter, to give them their speed, and Gypson Long for endurance. They are the only horse in their class. The only horse that can match a Gypson over long distance and get there in half the time. Perhaps not as showy as the Bravian, nor as good at short sprints, but still beautiful and fast.”

“Not as fast as the Lagara, though. I’d wager my Lagaras against your Akeron in a short race.”

“Would you?” Something inside me perked up.

The king lifted his goblet, eyeing me over the rim.“Got two that have never lost a race yet. Fastest in the kingdom.”

I sat up straighter. “Where did you get them?”

“A rare breeder north-east of here, known for Lagaras and Akerons.” A thrill raced over my skin. “Got quite a few from the man, some of my best.”

“Anatol Krysinski?” I couldn’t help myself.

The king scowled, in thought. “I do believe it was. Great breeder, that man. He used to visit the capital once a year, during the racing season, always brought prize winners along. I never passed up the chance to purchase a few.”

My stomach swooped. Rixon turned to me. “Lady Witch? Are you all right?” I shook my head, clearing my thoughts, then nodded.

“You know him, then?” King Kozma asked, oblivious to the warring emotions in me. “I haven’t seen the man in a decade or more. Never could be certain what happened to him.”

“He died,” I found myself saying. Flames tore across my vision. My ears echoed with the ring of their screams. I blinked, pushing the memories away.

The king frowned. “You…”

“He was my father,” I said, hardly knowing what prompted the truth. I hoped he wouldn’t use it against me.

He leaned back in his chair, falling silent. Perhaps what he saw in my expression kept the questions at bay. When he next spoke, he said, “I’d suspect you are correct then, that you know more about horses than I.”

I balked. My chest swelled, lungs expanding. He shouldn’t have made me feel this way. I wanted to hate him even more for it, and yet—

“What do you say we have a race?” The king sat forward again, eager.

This time, I frowned. Another game, then? But why?

“Are you trying to steal my horse?”

“It wouldn’t be theft if I won him fairly.”

I perked up. “A wager, then?”

A dangerous one, at that. I would never give Jarrow up. Never in a million years. And yet…