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Their manes are locked in knots instead of braids, the same way many Jokithans wear their hair, and they all seem well-behaved and tame — placid, even.
All but one.
At the far end of the makeshift stables is a stallion covered in the warmest chestnut-colored coat with a white blaze. He bucks and bites at his handlers in an effort to be rid of them. Each time he raises up, I can see the white stockings on each of his legs.
He doesn’t belong here.
The thought harkens back to my own presence in this place, and I can’t help but feel a kinship with the creature who so clearly feels trapped by his circumstances.
The horse, if you can even call it that, towers over the Jokithan handlers by several feet.
So, naturally, when I approach, they fear I will be flattened by the anxious beast. The king makes no move to intercept me. In fact, he leans against a pole in the center of the tent, as though he doesn't have a care in the world. Maybe he doesn't, for that matter. Maybe I would be doing him a favor if I got knocked out by this crazy horse.
Though, I don't think he's crazy. Not really. Just discontent. I move closer, shushing him and clucking my tongue, which does a good job of getting his attention.
“Get back, Lady. It is too dangerous,” the women tell me while throwing another rope around the horse's neck.
Even Khijha hisses in warning, attempting to stand between me and the behemoth.
I ignore them all. The steed locks eyes with me, and I can sense his fear, his anger. He is a kindred spirit, wild and untamable, locked into a fate he didn’t choose.
“How much?”
The trainers look at me as if I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have, but I ask again anyway.
“You do not want this one, Lady. Let us show you better hestrinn. Ones that not try kill you.”
Ah, so that’s what they’re called.
“I appreciate the offer, but I want to know how much for this one.”
“Lady, this one is mutt. It is no good for you. It is no good for anyone. We take him to the dragon.”
I assume something has been lost in translation since dragons have been extinct for centuries, and I push again, impatience quickening my movements.
Taking out a fair amount of the gold pieces in my purse, I present them to the handlers.
“Is this enough? Or shall I ask the king for more?” I add flatly.
Regardless of whatever thisdragonis, I can only surmise that this hestrinn’s fate is not promising.
Vaguely, I gesture to where I know the king still stands, silently taking in this scene. I can't decide if I am gratified or frustrated that he doesn't bother to step in, but I know that reminding the handlers of his presence will stop their objections in their tracks.
Sure enough, the handlers look to the king, then exchange only a single glance with one another before nodding.
“We will have him brought to castle for you, Lady. But we do not think this is so good idea.”
“Thank you,” is all I say, handing them the coins before walking away, the king at my back.
Khijha hisses and growls to remind me of her disapproval, so the king remains the only one not to have made his opinion known.
Strange.
His long strides are at my side within a couple of steps, and I peer sideways at him only to find him studying me intently. I raise my eyebrows, inviting him to ask what's clearly on his mind.
"Why that one?" His face is inscrutable.
"You disapprove?" I ask, immediately on the defensive from the interaction with the handlers.
