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The vision sickened me. “Nightclaw had not wished to come?”
Hawl shook their head. “Fought tooth and nail to remain free. Tabar tried to break his spirits, thinking that was the way to make a proper mount of him. When he failed, Rodrick took over.”
I looked at Nightclaw, sick at heart. “To think I had the audacity to think I might be able to train him. He should be left alone. Or better yet, set free.”
Hawl surprised me by shaking their head. “There was a reason the cat would never have accepted Tabar. I think you know it, too. Besides, I have a hunch about Nightclaw. If my hunch is right, he won’t need much training.”
My heartbeat quickened. “What do you mean?”
Hawl lifted the saddle. Nightclaw’s eyes followed it carefully. “Nightclaw’s already been trained. Haven’t you, Bellator?”
“By whom? How?” My voice was sharp. “How is that possible?”
“As I said,” Hawl said easily. “Just a hunch. But with your permission...” He took a step towards the exmoor.
I knew he wasn’t talking to me. I stepped aside, watching in fascination.
The Bearkin was massive, easily capable of saddling the exmoor alone. I watched how it was done, making careful mental notes in the unlikely chance I would one day have to do it by myself.
“You’re going to ride him? Here? Now?”
Hawl gave a laugh that sounded like the grating of tree bark. “No.” The Bearkin tightened the last buckle and stepped back. “You are.”
“Me?” My voice came out as a mouselike squeak. “Now?”
“Unless you think you need some training of your own first? Youdoknow how to ride a horse, don’t you?”
“I probably need more training than Nightclaw, if what you say is true,” I admitted. “I can ride, yes. But I’m not an expert rider.”
I thought of Draven’s skill in the saddle and wondered how he was getting on with Sunstrike. But I shouldn’t have thought of him at all, because suddenly the memory of his handsome face dipping between my legs swam in my vision and was all I could think of.
“Well, he hasn’t had a rider in a very long time, if I’m right about this. He’ll go easy on you. Won’t you, Bellator?”
Nightclaw made a sound halfway between a growl and a meow. I wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be reassuring or not.
“It’s all about earning his trust,” Hawl promised. “He may not accept a new rider. But then, you probably went a long way towards proving yourself just by getting him away from Bastard Rodrick.”
I giggled at the play on words. “You mean, Master?”
“I said what I said,” Hawl huffed. “That man has no true mastery over any beast. He’s as competent as a shepherd with a blindfold on.”
“You should take over.” As soon as the words were out, I knew I meant it. “I could ask the prince...”
Hawl scoffed dismissively. “I cook for you, I help you find books, I bring you a saddle. Now you want me to run a menagerie. I have enough to occupy my time, thank you, Lady.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling like an idiot. “You’re right, I didn’t mean...”
Hawl made a rasping sound that might have been a chortle. “Enough, girl child. Now are you going to mount your steed or not?”
I looked up at Nightclaw. He would be the tallest “steed” I had ever ridden. He was higher than Hala by at least a head.
I looked at the saddle. There were stirrups and a pommel to grip, but they were currently out of my reach.
I gulped.
Nightclaw was observing me. As I swallowed nervously, he let out a sound that made me think of a patient mother’s sigh and stretched out his body along the ground.
“Thank you,” I whispered gratefully. I reached for the pommel, just barely getting my foot into the closest stirrup. Part way up, I slipped, my other foot kicking into the exmoor’s ribs. “I’m so sorry. I’ll get better at it, I promise.”
