Page 53 of Witch’s Ruin

His ears pricked. He knew.

Beside me, two beautiful Lagaras kept pace. They were both lightly colored, with beige coats and silky, cream colored manes. Their tails were kept long and untouched. I’d opted to braid Jarrow’s and tuck it up, for show, mostly. I’d also given him little braids along his sleek, black mane.

Lagaras were bred for this. The king’s were prized, having already established a well known track record. Beside me, the jockeys shouted encouragement, their voices mingling with the Aavix I used to urge Jarrow onward.

The track was oval, soft dirt. It flung up behind us in our wake. I calculated the distance. We needed to make it around the ring of the track, two straights and two curves, and be the first to finish. “Makka, Jarrow!” I cried again.

Jarrow snorted, then swung his head sideways and nipped his teeth, attempting to frighten the beige stallion on our right. I didn’t bother scolding him. The stallion, Petzi, only snorted, pushing harder to inch ahead. On Petzi’s right, Kalli gained half a head over us. I groaned, urging Jarrow ahead.

We passed the small crowd in the stands, their shouts mingling with pounding hooves. A brief glimpse showed Rixon on his feet, hands braced on the barrier, leaning forward. We approached the first curve of the oval track. Both Lagaras began pulling ahead.

My heart surged, adrenaline pumping. I needed to win this. For Jarrow, for the witches, to free them of the curfew.

Petzi and Kalli. They were names my father had chosen, I was certain of it. In Aavix, Petzi meant wind and Kalli meant fire. Wind and fire. Fitting names—names my father would have selected with care. Names to represent their personalities.

Emotion slammed into my chest, shocking and unbidden. My eyes blurred. I blinked, attempting to clear them. What would he think of me, if he saw me racing the king’s horses? Horses he’d bred to win at all costs? A tear came free at the corner of my eye, streaking along my temple. I missed him so much it hurt.

My stomach sank.

Suddenly I hated the thought of winning—beating my father’s Lagaras. It was like spitting on his efforts, his life’s work. A small part of me wilted, the heat of shame prickling my cheeks; I never should have accepted this race. Rounding the corner of the track, both Lagaras pulled forward by a head’s length—

A flutter of wings made my breath catch. A dark chuckle seeped into my thoughts.

“With blood we shed, with blood we keep…”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. The feeling of being watched grated down my spine. Jarrow’s ears pricked, as if he could sense it, too. But Jarrow was used to demons in close proximity. Used to outrunning them.

A horse’s scream split the air. A head’s length ahead of us, Petzi’s eyes rounded, the whites showing. Beside him, Kalli reacted similarly. Shouts, as their jockeys attempted to calm them. It was no use. They faltered, tossing their heads, thwarting their gain.

My eyes darted around, searching for the source. The winged demon was here—it had to be. The pull in my chest was undeniable. But…it was nowhere in sight.

The Lagaras began to fall back.

The small crowd gave echos of surprise. Both horses continued protesting, still sprinting, but distracted. The final straight shrank, the curve coming upon us. Jarrow began pulling ahead; I didn’t know whether to slow him or spur him on. Taking this sudden advantage felt like cheating. But Jarrow was used to one thing, and one thing only: outrunning demons.

Another flutter of wings made my stomach dip.

I discerned the moment Jarrow’s instinct kicked in. We rounded the bend, pulling nearly a full length ahead of Petzi. The finish line was there—a few breaths more. The dark laughter echoed in my mind. “Stop doing that,” I hissed, overcome with fury. It didn’t matter.

We crossed the finish line, Petzi and Kalli on our heels, their heads still pivoting in fear. Right as Jarrow plunged across the line, Petzi’s head slammed into his flank. Jarrow squealed, nimbly dancing away. His foot twisted, sank into the sand, and he stumbled before pulling himself upright. I cursed, jumping from his back.

A hush fell over the crowd. I didn’t pay it any attention. All three horses had come to a stop. Petzi and Kalli were still stamping, eyes wild. Several attendants rushed over. I spotted the king among them, Rixon, too.

I felt the demon’s presence recede, then disappear entirely. My anger remained, hot and piercing. Jarrow looked calm as ever, but I saw the pain in his eyes. He took a limping step forward, then stopped. He held his front leg slightly off the ground, keeping it free of his weight.

I swore under my breath, glancing at the other two horses. I knew what had happened. In his fright, Petzi’s swinging head had come too close to jarrow, had struck him accidentally. Jarrow didn’t take kindly to other horses in his personal space. He had gotten surprised. He’d misstepped.

“What happened?” the king roared, coming to a stop beside us. “Did you use your magic to rig the race?!” he demanded.

What?!

“How dare—no, Your Majesty. I would never do such a dirty thing.” Something in my chest thumped. “The horses are frightened. They reacted.”

“Yes, and I would like to know why. You used your magic to frighten them. Our bet is forfeit. I will not grant you your request.”

My muscles pulled tight. “I am the daughter of a horse breeder. I would never stoop to such measures. I would never tamper with a horse’s emotions. I wouldn’t even know how.”

“Father—”