AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Would you care to explain the difference?" He says it in a tone that makes it clear he does not see a difference. But to me, there is every distinction in the world.
"You asked before about my sisters. I told you that I had three. Yet, only two wrote to me." I haven't put the pieces together for him, but he surprises me by not interrupting.
Something in his expression tells me he had already been curious about that and reminds me what a fool I would be to underestimate the man who bested me at my own game.
So, I continue, treading carefully.
"Melodi is the youngest. Aika is only a year older than she is. And Rose," I stumble over her name, it's been so long since I said it out loud. "Rose was two years younger than I am. She would have been 20 this month."
His face crumples in sympathy, in remorse, and it's more than I can take from him right now. All at once, I am done, with this conversation, and with this king, and with every sands-blasted bit of this kingdom.
He opens his mouth, and I'm sure the next words out of it will be an apology, but it's one I can't bear to hear.
Without another word, Khijhana and I flee the room and all of its unsettled emotions. I don't know exactly where I'm going, but I know that the walls around me feel more suffocating than anything. I have to get out of this castle.
Chapter Thirty-One
The guards outside don’t wear masks, so whatever the reasoning on that, it only seems to apply to those within the castle walls. It’s a stark contrast to the isolation of being within the castle, but their expressions are just as impassive as the covered faces indoors.
They walk the grounds, keeping an eye on me from a distance as I find my way to the stables, despite never visiting before. When I left the castle doors, I didn’t stop for directions. I simply left, and no one cared to stop me.
The sun is high above, casting a soft warm glow, but it does nothing to heat my frozen skin. I was too angry to grab my cloak, and too prideful to return for it.
Instead, I take a deep breath of the icy air, allowing it to burn my lungs, bringing pain to some other part of me than the constant agonizing throbbing in my heart. Khijhana presses against me, lending me some of her warmth until we get to the stables.
Then she stands in the doorway, watching over me but declining to come closer to the hestrinn.
Examining the stables proves to be interesting all on its own. Every other type I’ve seen in the past isn’t nearly as accommodating as this one is. Maybe it’s the colder climate, maybe it’s the adoration for animals that the Jokithan people seem to possess, but either way, the stables are more of a luxurious home for the steeds and their caretakers than anything.
Not a bad alternative to the castle for Sarah,I think, grateful that she hasn’t been uncomfortable out here.
The inside is heated and sealed off from the harsh elements of the constant winter. There are special quarters for the handlers and groomers and even breeders. Apparently, the castle prides itself on having one of the finest and purest lines of hestrinn in the northern region.
At least, it did until my latest purchase. I smirk.
My anger dissipates, and my curiosity grows as I stroll through the stalls and watch the groomers carefully at work. So far, everyone in here is also maskless. I have to wonder if they have lived their lives in the same stasis as the rest of the castle, or if they have been able to move about more freely.
One of the hestrinn huffs behind me, her muzzle appearing over my shoulder. I laugh a little as she lips at my hair and ear.
When I pull away, she reaches toward me again with her giant head, and I stretch out an arm to rub her neck. She happily leans into my touch, whinnying in delight.
As I continue my stroll through the aisles, I can’t help but marvel at how exquisite they all are. To call these magnificent beastshorsesfeels dishonest. They are more like a distant relative of the species. A cousin that you can see some family resemblance in but only if you look closely.
They stand at least twenty hands, maybe more, dwarfing their smaller relatives. The handlers are all far taller than me and still have to stand on small ladders to brush the tops of their coats.
Their coats are a glimmering silver or shining onyx with alternating long manes, many of which are artfully braided. For as much as I had begun to hate the lack of color here, I am beginning to find the beauty in it as well. Because it isn’t a lack, so much as a perfection of these two shades in particular.
I run a hand over another one of the hestrinn’s muzzles when he dips it down to greet me. His long hair is silky and smooth. He’s a gentle giant, and it’s easy to see the love that has gone into them from their caretakers.
It’s truly awe-inspiring to see such docile animals being so tenderly cared for. That is — until I make my way toward the back of the stables where sounds of frustration are coming from.
Young Sarah’s fair skin is flushed with red, and her silver tresses are slick with sweat as she tries and fails to climb the ladder to brush the hestrinn’s mane. Each time she gets close, he lifts a leg and kicks the ladder over, causing her to fall to the ground.
“Andskotinn kúkalabbi!”she curses as she wipes the sweat from her brow.
I can’t help but laugh and immediately regret it when she hears me.
“Beg pardon, Lady. I have sorry. I do not mean to speak so freely.” She bows and nearly loses her balance again.
