“I will?”
“Sure and you will. We’ll have you take her around the paddock a few times to get you acquainted.”
“How come I didn’t get to walk around the paddock a few times when I learned to ride?”
Morena’s blue eyes danced. “We’ll say Keegan and myself have different styles. Come now and meet our Cindie. You’ll see by her eyes what a sweet heart she has. And she’s tireless as well. She’ll go and go if you ask it of her.”
Breen went with her, and didn’t need to look into Cindie’s dark eyes to feel the sweetness, the loyalty, and the pleasure of having a purpose.
“I’m just going to watch for a few minutes.”
And as she stood doing just that at the fence, Breen watched Marco stroke Cindie’s cheek before he climbed over and stroked her neck.
“I’ve never been up on a horse.”
“First times are fun times now, aren’t they?” Morena claimed. “If you’d like to mount, I’ll check the stirrups, see if we’ve got the length right.”
“Here goes.”
He didn’t, as Breen had, try to mount from the wrong side, or complain about the lack of a pommel. He just boosted himself up, and grinned.
“Yee-haw!”
On a laugh, Morena showed him how to hold the reins, how to use them. “She’s a biddable soul,” she told Marco, “so you can use a gentle hand with her. Firm enough, of course, but she wants to please.”
“I like it up here. Who’da thought?”
“Go ahead, walk her around. Heels down now, knees in. That’s the way. Hands down as well.”
“I’m riding a horse. I’m rootin’-tootin’! Check me, Breen.”
“Can you turn her around now, walk the other way? Look at you. The man’s a natural.”
Clearly, Breen thought, more than she’d been.
“You can trust me with him,” Morena murmured to Breen.
“I can see that. You’ll stay close, though? If any of Odran’s people get through—”
“I’ll have a sword on before we leave the farm. Keegan and Mahon are out with the scouts right now. I’ll look after him, my word on it.”
“And yourself.” Time to trust, Breen thought. “Looking good, Marco. I’ll leave you with Morena, and meet you back here later.”
“Later. Hey, can we ride around out there?”
Breen left them to it, and with Bollocks racing back to her, started down the road to her grandmother’s.
She sent a wave to Harken, checked the sky for any sign of the scouts. She watched a falcon soar, but saw no sign of dragons. And no sign, she realized, of the children she’d seen running the roads or in and out of the woods through the summer.
In school, she thought, like children in other worlds.
Fall added a bite to the air. On the hills some of the hardwoods had donned their autumn reds and golds and oranges as they climbed up among the deep greens of the pines. She saw trolls standing outside of high caves, taking the air before they went back to mine the stones and crystals.
On the turn to her grandmother’s cottage, she saw a buck giving her a long, arrogant study before he melted into the woods.
A buck, not a Were, she thought. Keegan was right; she knew. She only had to look into the buck to know.
Marg’s cottage stood with its blue door open in welcome, and smoke curling from its chimneys.
She found her grandmother and Finola in the kitchen, adding herbs to jars.
“And welcome home.” Finola, her chestnut hair bundled back for the work, stepped over to embrace her. “It’s more than pleased I am to see you. And I should tell you, Seamus will be on his way soon to see to your gardens.”
“I’m sorry I’ll miss him.” She leaned over to kiss Marg’s cheek. “Do you want some help with this?”
“All but done. Would you be wanting some tea, or a bite to eat?”
“I’m fine, thanks. Marco made us a huge late breakfast.”
“Sure I’ve heard the handsome boy’s a brilliant cook.”
Breen shook her head at Finola. “Word travels.”
“In Talamh it does for certain. I’m looking forward to seeing him again. Is he with Morena now?”
“He’s with her, and doing better on a horse in five minutes than I did in five hours.”
“I hope I see him on my way back home then. I’ve got to get along. I just came by to give Marg some of our peach brandy. It has a good kick, it does. You come and see us now, Breen, and bring the handsome Marco.”
“I will.”
“Take this along.” Marg handed her friend a small jar. “Remember, just a pinch when you want to add a kick—like your brandy—to a stew.”
“Thanks for that, and thanks from Seamus, who does enjoy that kick. Blessings on you both.”
When Finola left, Marg went to the jar of dog treats. Bollocks’s ears perked up.
“And what will you do for this?”
“He can dance,” Breen told her.
“Is that the truth of it?”
“Dance for Nan, Bollocks. Boogie time!”
He rose up on his hind legs, wagging as he stepped right and left. On a long laugh, Marg tossed the treat so Bollocks snatched it out of the air. “Aren’t you the clever pair? Well now, will we go to the workshop?”
“Please. I’d like to make some protection for Marco, since I can’t talk him into going back.”
“Then we will. Come on, lad, bring your treat. It’s a fine, bright day for you to run about outside and splash in the stream. He’ll let you know, won’t he, when he wants to come in?”
“Yes.” They walked out, and since there was no one inside to welcome a visitor, Marg shut the door. “I can just feel him asking. Not words, not really, but a knowing.”
“You’ve bonded well and true.”
They walked into the woods, Bollocks prancing with the dog biscuit in his mouth, and to the bridge over the stream.
“You have a gift of connection with living things, and it serves you well.” She stopped there, on the arch of the stone bridge with the cottage workshop tucked into the trees ahead of them.
“Do you know the horse they put Marco on today?”
“Morena called her Cindie.”
“Aye, a good choice. Sweet-natured, patient, eager to please. Hold her name in your mind, as she knows it well. See her as you did in your mind’s eye. Bring her into you.”
“Call her?”
“No, no, mo stór. Bring her in, as you would with our lad here. Bring her in. Feel what she feels.”
She’d seen the mare in Harken’s fields before, of course, and had gauged her before Marco mounted, but to connect when she had no idea of distance or …
Distance meant nothing, Keegan had told her once.
So she held the name, the image, reached out. For a moment, it felt as if she moved outside herself, then all the deeper in.
“She’s content. She likes the human, and the smell of the air. She likes to walk with Blue. She … she’s mated with him before.”
Marg smiled into Breen’s eyes. “She has indeed, twice if memory serves. You did very well.”
“I didn’t know I could do it at all.”
“You can, and more. And how is our Marco feeling?”
“I can’t—”
“Don’t think, just feel. It’s not his thoughts, and it takes more, as humans and Fey have filters, you’d say, that horses and dogs and the like don’t. But your connection there is already strong. You’ve already done this without the knowing because you’ve had this bond with Marco for so long. What does he feel at the moment?”
“Excited.” Truly shocked at the clarity of it, Breen laughed. “Proud of himself. A little smug. Oh,” she corrected, “more than a little.”
“There you are.” Marg patted Breen’s arm before continuing to the cottage. “So when you worry, you can look. But remember your manners. Don’t intrude unless there’s cause.”