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Jaw clenched, he led her to the intended stall.
‘This is the Bloodletter’s stallion,’ Thea said, frowning at the enormous horse within.
‘So?’ he asked.
‘I thought he’d ridden out somewhere… Last night.’
Wilder shrugged. ‘He took another horse then. I asked him yesterday if we could borrow Brutus this morning.’
‘Brutus?’
Wilder couldn’t help rolling his eyes. ‘Just the sort of name Vernich would come up with, no?’
‘What’s yours called?’
Not a chance was he telling her that story. He cleared his throat and ignored her question. ‘You’re taking Brutus out to the corral. He needs to be warmed up and taken for a ride.’
Thea frowned. ‘That’s it?’
‘That’s it.’ Wilder motioned for her to enter the stall. ‘Go easy on your ribs.’
What he hadn’t told her was that Vernich’s stallion was notoriously difficult and aggressive – the horse had barely been broken in even after all these years. But if Thea wanted to be a Warsword, she needed to be able to tame a Tverrian stallion.
Gripping the horse’s lead rope, she halted. ‘You just going to stand there all day?’
Wilder held the stall gate open for her. ‘Hardly. I’m going to warm my feet by the fire and have breakfast,’ he said coolly. ‘Have fun.’
Her answering glare was enough to get him moving, but not before he noted the strain in her arms as she tried to haul the unruly beast from the stall, Brutus pawing the straw-covered ground impatiently.
When Wilder reached the courtyard of the fortress, he turned back to peer down over the grounds. He saw that Thea had managed to get the stallion to the corral, only to have him bite her. Wilder flinched as those nasty teeth clamped around her arm. But she had to learn.
To his surprise, she didn’t lose her temper. Instead, she went to the nearby bushes and plucked some foliage. She made quick work of chewing and applying it to her wound, before continuing to wrangle the stallion into submission.
Perhaps there was hope for her yet.
* * *
Wilder watched Thea from a distance for most of the morning. If she could handle Brutus, she would have no trouble capturing her own Tverrian stallion when her time came.
Around noon, he found himself trudging through the undergrowth of the Bloodwoods, relishing its eeriness, the canopy blocking out the high sun and the damp, cool air kissing his heated skin. He had told Thea to meet him at the training ring, but he knew better than that. For years she’d gone to the same hiding spot: the clearing amid the dense forest of bleeding trees, their sap sticky and red, supposedly the blood of warrior ancestors long dead.
And sure enough, there she was.
Through the trees, he watched as Thea sought the arrow he’d shot at her all those months ago, embedded in the tree. Only it wasn’t there. Wilder himself had removed it weeks ago. It was currently stashed away in his cabin. It had been a stupid idea to keep it.
But that didn’t stop him watching as Thea slowly ran her fingers over the small scar left in the tree trunk, her expression softening.
Wilder’s gut tightened. It had worked out for the best, he tried to tell himself.
In the clearing, Thea smacked her palm against the offending tree with a huff of frustration before rummaging through her pockets until she found the parchment he’d given her. After scanning over his neat script, she stood and began to take herself through the first set of exercises on the list.
Wilder watched on in silence, noting how quickly she had improved, how naturally the movements came to her… She was so focused, so determined, and with every drill, she seemed to beat back one personal darkness after the other.
‘It’s rude to spy on people,’ her voice rang through the clearing, though she didn’t so much as glance in his direction.
‘Well, you would know,’ he replied, striding into view. How long had she been aware of his presence? ‘We were supposed to meet at the training ring,’ he added.
‘So how did you find me?’ Thea asked, not pausing as she swept through another set of exercises.
