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Two years ago, we’d heard the story of an immortal fae who bred the world’s fastest horses. In some versions, he was depicted as a morose and fiendish ancient creature who hated society and whose only solace lay in his prized horses. In others, he was a cruel master who drove all but his horses mad. One version claimed he kept a barn full of the corpses of all the animals he’d cursed.
The man’s eyebrows lifted slowly as he watched me, as if he could read the turmoil taking place in my head. My fingers stretched toward the dagger below my knee.
“You won’t need your weapon,” he said casually. He tilted his head and eyed me with an amused half-grin. “I see that you entered before those useless guards could search you.” He perched on the edge of his desk, crossing his tall, leather riding boots. “So how desperate are you?”
My balance faltered, but Zara steadied me. Fae were the villains in most stories, save the ones where they acted like gods among mortals, and even in those stories, they were narcissistic.
But I couldn’t leave here empty-handed.
Gathering my courage, I asked, “Do you have any fast horses for sale?”
He laughed outright, tossing his head back. “I have many fast horses.”
“Fast enough to win the midsummer races?”
“Not only that, but fast enough to win the Carrera de los Reales as well.”
I lurched forward, pulling out of Zara’s grasp. “My father will pay you from the winnings.”
“That isn’t how this works. You pay, and then you receive the animal.”
He lifted a finger to stroke the macaw’s red breast. It bobbed its head and said in its squeaking voice, Dawn is coming. Dawn is coming.
Romero snapped his fingers in annoyance at the bird, but the animal seemed unconcerned and continued walking back and forth on its perch, muttering about the approach of dawn.
“Silence,” hissed the man. The bird ceased its chattering.
“I need Sol back,” I admitted, finding no other avenue. “Bets have been placed on him.”
He rubbed his chin. “I breed only the best horses, better than even your stallion. My lines go back to champions from a thousand years ago. You cannot possibly afford one of my horses.”
“You sold my horse,” I snarled. “If anything, I should receive the payment you took for him.”
He stepped forward, close enough now that if I lunged, I could land a punch on that smug mouth.
“I bought the animal that was brought to me, then sold him for a profit. That’s called business.” Then swiping a piece of paper off his desk, he added, “Your horse had papers.”
This stole the breath from my lungs.
“What?” I whispered, wondering how on earth Sol’s papers had slipped into a criminal’s hands without anyone’s notice when they were kept in a locked box in our home. “What did the man look like? The one who brought the horse?”
“Why should I reveal his identity to you?”
I sputtered out an angry laugh. “So I can catch him!”
He studied me with an acute precision that made me uncomfortable. “Just how badly do you need this animal?”
His face displayed no compassion. In fact, as I returned his hard stare, I thought I saw a flash of amber in his dark irises. I took a step back toward the door, nearly knocking into Zara. “Tell me who sold you the horse.”
“I never reveal the identity of my clients.”
“Wretched man,” I hissed, spinning away. At that moment, what remained of my once-polished hairstyle finally came loose, and my long hair flopped against my back. The flower that had managed to hang on through the ride dropped quietly to the ground.
“What did you say?”
I stopped and turned to face him again. “I said you’re a wretched man,” I proclaimed through gritted teeth.
His lips curled into a strange sort of smile, but as he opened them to speak, the canvas behind him flapped open and another man stepped in, hastily shoving back the oversized hood on his floor-length cloak. His blond hair was shoulder-length and disheveled, but as the hood moved away from his face, a distinctly pointed ear was briefly visible.
