Page 242 of The Sun He Buried

“Someone brought Sanguir restraints onto your road.”

“Yes.”

His concern hardens into fury.

Snowpetal reaches for the silver loop with one paw. Her talon catches it and pulls.

I break the cord.

The loop comes free.

“Healer,” Ketill calls.

Snowpetal twists hard enough to open the cut along her side.

Fresh blood runs over his sleeve.

“She won’t stay,” he says.

“Then stop trying.”

He sets her down.

Snowpetal limps through the doors.

The stable yard has come apart.

Two saddled horses wait near the steps. A stable hand holds both reins while another tries to calm the grey mare. Snowpetal has already passed them and is moving toward the lower gate.

The mare sees the blood on her horns and pulls backward.

I take the reins.

“Stand.”

Her fear strikes the mask. I catch the bridle below her jaw and keep her head down until all four hooves settle.

She knows my hands. That’ll have to serve for trust.

I mount before she changes her mind.

The stable hand backs away and checks his fingers.

All present.

“My Dróttin, the saddle straps—”

“Will survive.”

“The mare hasn’t run since the storm.”

“She’s about to.”

Ketill comes down the steps fastening a sword belt over his coat.

“Take it off,” I tell him.

“No.”