Page 9

He grins. “Yes, she is, and I can’t wait to see her.”

“What are you waiting for, then?”

“Thank you, Sir,” he tells me, running to do as instructed.

I smile. “Have fun,” I tell him as soon as he finishes up. I watch as my young striker almost falls he dashes off so quickly. Then I take the smoldering horseshoe from the fire and starthitting it to finish shaping it, placing it in a basin of cold water, where it sizzles as it cools.

The horse nickers and stomps. I put my hand on the beast’s neck. “Easy,” I tell him, and he settles.

After checking the fit of the shoe, I pick up my trusty hammer and a few nails, putting three between my teeth. Then I get to work.

I lose myself in the rhythm of it, the clang of metal against metal echoing in the small space. I quench the hot metal in the water, the satisfying hiss filling the silence. My mind is consumed with thoughts of escape, of the risks we are about to take. A glimmer of hope shines through the darkness that has clouded my days for so long.

As I finish up the last shoe, I wipe my brow with the back of my hand, smudging black soot across my skin.

I tidy up my tools, taking my hammer and pushing it through my belt. Then, I untie the horse and make my way to the stables.

There is laughter and shouting. Someone is playing on a lute. Several people start singing a well-known folk tune. A man turns the corner; he staggers, spilling mead from a cup. He grabs the wall, laughing, and then goes back down the alleyway he came from. He doesn’t seem to notice me.

This is going just as I hoped it would.

Once the horse I just shod is safely in his stable, I tack up the two horses I earmarked for our journey.

They’re smaller than the fae steeds. Surefooted in rugged terrain and able to cope with the difficult conditions that await us outside the dome barrier around the Court.

I get the saddlebags I stashed earlier and have just placed one on the first horse when I hear footfalls. Someone has just entered the barn, and they’re coming this way.

Their steps are sure and true.

Kakara help me. No! I don’t need this. Not now. I had banked on everyone being at the feast.

I stand still, putting my hand against the horse’s shoulder. I practically hold my breath, hoping whoever it is will go away.

They don’t.

They keep walking between the stalls. It’s like they’re searching for something, and they’re coming this way.

Perhaps they won’t look into this particular stall. Maybe I’ll get away with it. I go down on my haunches at the horse’s front leg, facing away.

I pray to the gods that I won’t be found out so soon. I pray that whoever it is isn’t a fae. That it’s one of the human stable hands.

Of course, the person stops when they reach the stall I am in.

I run my hand down the horse’s leg.

“Alaric.” I recognize the voice; it’s the stable master. He’s an older fae. Not as bad as many of the others. I would go so far as to say that I call him a friend.

I lift the horse’s hoof, inspecting it.

Then I look up, turning over my shoulder. “Tyron.” I smile, hoping it isn’t as tense as it feels. “You’re still working? I thought everyone was at the feast. I should be, too.” I make it sound like I’m grumbling.

His gaze moves to the saddlebag on the horse’s back and then to the one on the ground at my feet.

“I thought I would check on the horses first. Is everything alright?” He narrows his eyes. I see suspicion there.

God’s bones, but this is bad. At this rate, I’m going to be caught before I’ve even left the barn.

Stay calm. Keep your cool!