Kim Harrison - Ever After

“Mind games?” I breathed, and Trent looked up as if hearing me across the distance.

His eyes met mine briefly in acknowledgment, then went back to the manager. “No, I want her across from Managed Detail, not out of his sight,” he was saying, gesturing to a stable hand. “Where he goes, she goes three steps behind. We made progress, but it will mean nothing if she thinks the rules apply only on the track.”

The stable hand lugged a bucket of water out, and Tulpa nosed him before dropping his head and sucking it in.

“I want Red right across from Managed Detail in a box stall,” Trent said, his eyes again flicking to me. “He is to be lavished with attention for at least an hour starting now, and then special treats on the hour until sunset. I want her so frustrated and jealous that she does exactly what Ben tells her next time.”

Mind games . . .

“Yes, sir,” the manager said, squinting up at him, and we all looked at a fiery-tempered horse only now coming into the paddock. She was high stepping and beautiful, her jockey needing every ounce of his attention to keep her in bounds. Frustrated? I’d say she was that already. It was obvious to me she was pissed she’d been held back when everyone else got to go back to the stables.

The wailing of an ambulance drew my attention to the nearby service road, and everything became more serious. Seeing it, the manager sighed. “She’s not a bad horse, sir.”

“She’s magnificent.” Trent frowned as Red squealed and snapped at the horse next to her. “But if she doesn’t learn that playing with others is more fun than playing alone, we will be the only two to know it.”

“Trenton . . .” Ceri cajoled, a hand to her eyes. “The sun is getting hot, and the girls will be napping before we get to the woods.”

Trent raised his hand acknowledging her, then turned back to his manager. “We’re done with practice. Tomorrow take her and Managed Detail on a ride and let them go. He has more endurance and can bring her to exhaustion. She’ll gate next time.” Pulling Tulpa together, he angled to the gate between the two paddocks. A stable hand ran to open it. Turning, Trent looked over his shoulder. “Treats every hour!” he reminded him. “Don’t forget. And I want a call as soon as you know how Ben’s collarbone is.”

The manager jotted a note on his clipboard. “Yes, sir.”

“And keep her away from everyone else. I want Managed Detail her best frenemy.”

The older man smiled. “Yes, sir. Enjoy your ride.”

Molly barely moved an ear as Trent rode up, but my heart gave a thump. Blinking, I looked away, pretending to fix my boot but taking sideways glances at him. Damn, he looked good, his trim physique—usually only hinted at underneath a suit—defined and definite in the jeans and button shirt he had on. I think normally he would be in full English garb but he had dressed down either for gate practice or me. I didn’t mind. I rather liked seeing that wisp of chest hair and his muscles moving behind his shirtsleeves. Ray looked sweet beyond description in her sturdy pale green riding dress complete with white leggings, soft boots, and matching hat, happily playing with the bells woven into Tulpa’s mane. Seeing her there only layered “paternal” over everything and hit just about every button I had. No. Working for Trent would be a mistake. A big mistake.

“Ready?” he said, the sun and wind in his hair, and Jenks snorted, rising up from Lucy and making the little girl whine.

“Rather,” Ceri said as she nudged her horse into motion toward the far gate. A hand waited to open it for us. “Red is not suited for the track, dear. Why do you insist on tormenting that animal?”

Waiting for Quen to go first, Trent smiled. “You have to admit my methods have good results.”

“Yes, but why?” Ceri insisted, her hand gentle on the reins as she angled her horse closer to me. “Let Red be who she is. She’s better tempered to the Hunt and will make a magnificent courser.”

Trent turned in the saddle to look behind him at the stables. “That mare is going to break women’s hearts and men’s fortunes, Ceri. I want the world to know her name. She will never be forgotten.”

Confused, I turned to Quen. “Red?”

The man brought his eyes back from the edge of the woods where he’d been scanning, always on alert. “Her papered name is Kalamack’s Sunrise Surprise. But we call her Red.”

Really. I looked at Trent, his horse predictably out front. “Because of her color? That’s original.”

Quen leaned closer with a creak of leather. “No, her attitude. Red zone? Danger? We’d put a red collar on her if everyone didn’t know to look out for her already. She bit Trent three hours after she was foaled.”

Passing through the gate to open field, Trent looked at his hand ruefully, clearly having heard us. “Oh,” I said softly, and Jenks snickered, coming to a landing on my saddle horn. Dropping down, he sat cross-legged, his wings glinting and his head drooping in the hot sun.

With a soft clicking, Ceri encouraged her horse to come even with Trent’s and we went two by two. We were almost to the woods, and I was eager for the shade. “There’s nothing wrong with anonymity if one is the best at their art,” Ceri insisted. “The horse is a born hunter. Let her be.”

They rode side by side, the girls they shared between them reaching out to touch each other. “If she doesn’t gate tomorrow, I will let her be,” Trent said, reaching across the space to kiss the top of Ceri’s hand in a formal acquiescence.

Seeing them there, I glanced at Quen. His eyes were tired, but the only other emotion I saw was a fond pleasure that both Ceri and Trent were happy in their familiar but platonic relationship. He was secure in his love for Ceri, and it was obvious that though Ceri liked Trent, her heart belonged to the older man. Somehow it all worked. But even though the girls and their past bound them all together, I was dogged by the feeling that though Trent was a part of this, he would forever be somewhat . . . sidelined. His future demanded so much of him that love was a luxury his fortune couldn’t buy.

And it bothered me, because I thought he not only knew it but accepted it as normal.

Smiling with the surety of the devil, Ceri drew her hand from Trent. “I would have a private world with Rachel, Trenton.”

Jenks opened an eye, and I felt a sliver of concern at her soft confidence. Private word? About what? What had I done now?

“Just girl talk,” she added, but her tone concerned me. She had something on her mind.

“Of course.” Trent nudged Tulpa into a faster pace as Ceri drew her mount in.

I glanced at Quen, worried when his brow pinched. Refusing to look at me, he nudged his horse ahead. Jenks flew up, saying, “You’re on your own,” before he darted off to join the elves.

“I haven’t done anything,” I muttered, grimacing at his chiming laughter floating back.

Sighing, I looked over at Ceri, seeing the faint blush of anger on her as we slipped under the welcoming shade of the woods. The path was steep, and we said nothing as the horses scrambled up. Lucy was still in Ceri’s lap, and the little girl was struggling to stay awake. Ahead of us, Trent and Quen rode with soft masculine murmurs drifting between them. Maybe her flush had only been from the sun.

“Lucy looks sweet today,” I said, and her grip on the reins tightened. Nope. Guess not.

“Quen told me you refused to help keep Trenton safe,” she said, coming right out with it.

My breath caught, and then I exhaled. Yeah, I probably owed her an explanation. “Trent doesn’t need me to babysit him,” I said, voice low. “And I won’t insult him by doing so.”