AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Haven’t you ever used a bow?
I give my head a subtle shake. The woman and her helpers reach me, and I force myself to grasp the reins with just one hand while I accept the curved wooden weapon.
I’m a knife person. A bow isn’t going to do much for you on the streets of the fringes, and I sure as shit can’t hide one under my tunic.
I get the impression Julita winces.Well, we’re not here to impress them with your fantastic archery skills. I’ll coach you as well as I can. Mostly focus on staying on that beast of a horse.
Toast has definitely noticed that my attention has become divided. He scuffs his hooves impatiently against the ground until I give his reins a light tug so he knows I’m staying on top of him. My mouth has gone dry.
I have to learn archery on horseback while handling a horse who’d like nothing more than to get me off his back. This should be fun.
Across the stable yard, one of the mounted noblemen yelps. As my head jerks toward him, his horse rears and shudders.
“Daimon,” someone near me mutters like a curse.
The rambling spirit-creature isn’t satisfied with a brief disruption like the one that provoked the charm merchant’s gelding. The rider yanks at the reins and shouts out, but the horse keeps bucking and heaving as if it’s afraid to let its hooves touch the ground.
While the nearest students draw their own mounts back, the hunt master rushes over. Before she can reach the frantic horse, it flings its haunches so forcefully its rider careens right out of the saddle.
And under the next fall of its stomping hooves.
Bone cracks. The man cries out, reaching toward his leg that’s now bent at an unnatural angle.
The dumpling-faced woman catches the reins. “Get a medic!” she hollers at one of the helpers.
The horse has settled down, as if the spirit that was harassing it slipped away as soon as it’d done some real damage. Which, given what I’ve seen and heard about how the daimon are behaving at the college, might be the case.
Unbidden, my eyes seek out Benedikt. He meets my gaze just for a second, his usual smirk gone tight.
This obviously isn’t a typical incident.
“Blasted spirits,” someone mutters, and someone else hisses at them to keep quiet as if they’re worried the daimon might come at us all.
Several of the students graze their foreheads, chests, and gut with the three-fingered tap of the gesture of the divinities.
They might not be wrong to worry. The minor divine beings of this place appear to be plenty pissed off and perfectly willing to take it out on us.
The hunt master has knelt beside the injured student. She lifts her head and swings her arm at the rest of us. “He doesn’t need an audience. Go on. You know what to do.”
Er. That’s debatable.
Nevertheless, I direct Toast to the right, following the train of horses setting off toward the stretch of woods at the back of the school.
Lovely. I’m going to be hunting on horseback with a bow and arrow while there are also trees in the way.
What’s next—the teachers set the trees on fire?
Toast huffs and does his best to spring ahead or veer off in a detour, but my firm grip keeps him reasonably in line. Anya glances back at me, and I find her frown immensely gratifying.
At least for the few seconds before Toast decides to take a page out of the other horse’s book and get a good rear in.
My ass slams into the back of the saddle and nearly slides right off. I bite my lip and snatch at his mane.
“Down,” I order him. “You want to move, then let’s move.”
Rather than trying to rein him in, I tap my heels to send the stallion trotting forward. He huffs another breath, sounding more confused than irritated now, and lopes past a few of the other horses before slowing down of his own accord.
Da always told me the easiest way to work with a horse was to show you respected it—that you’d give it room to tell you what it wanted too. Back when he still talked to me enough to offer any kind of lessons.
