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CHAPTER28

“Lady Rose,” said a tight, prim voice from behind her. “I see you grace the pasture with a visit. Again.”

Even though she’d been expecting the interruption, Cathy still sighed inwardly. She turned, smoothing her face into an expression of regal disinterest. She’d had so much practice over the past week, it was becoming as easy as putting on a hat.

“Eislyn,” she greeted the alicorn. “Once again, you feel the need to comment on my presence. One would have thought you would have become accustomed to it by now.”

Eislyn’s tail flicked. “It is always surprising to see a lady taking such a keen interest in caring for her own beasts. Most nobles leave that sort of thing to grooms.”

Cathy ran a soft cloth over her oss’s wooden shoulder, wiping away the dust. According to Aodhan, cleaning the constructs was in fact completely unnecessary, but they seemed to enjoy the attention. The creature leaned into her touch with a contented creak.

“Most nobles do not ride intricate magical constructs,” she said, in the chilliest tones as she could muster. “I am sure your grooms are competent with mundane animals, but my mounts require more skilled hands.”

From the way Eislyn’s nostrils flared, she took that as a veiled insult—which, to be fair, had been Cathy’s intention. The jab hadn’t entirely been to maintain her disguise as a supercilious seelie noble, either. Cathy hadn’t forgotten how Eislyn had treated Aodhan at that first meeting.

“Perhaps.” Eislyn looked past her pointedly. Given the horn, this was a lot of point. “I cannot help wondering, however, whether you might have another motivation for your frequent visits.”

Cathy followed the alicorn’s gaze, already knowing what she would find. This particular pasture lay alongside the training yard—which, of course, was why she’d planted the constructs here in the first place. Through a gap in the precisely clipped hedges, she could see Ferghal’s broad back, and her son’s slighter shoulders.

“Not like that.” Ferghal’s exasperated voice drifted through the leaves. “Not like that either. Move your top hand. No, the other way. The other other way. By the lost queen, boy, are you simple? A babe in arms could have mastered this by now.”

“I’m trying my best, Sir Ferghal,” came the much too innocent response. “Is this better?”

From Ferghal’s wordless sound of despair, it was not.

Cathy’s lips twitched as she suppressed a smile. After a week, Kevin’s sword fighting lessons had yet to advance beyond simply picking up the wooden practice weapon. Ferghal was a terrible teacher, but not that terrible.

“Jealous, Eislyn?” she said lightly, pretending to misunderstand the alicorn. “Do you think I have designs upon your noble rider? He is a handsome male, I admit, and he shows me flattering attention. Perhaps you fear I might steal him away from you.”

Eislyn snorted. “You know nothing of the sacred connection between rider and steed, if you think a mere female could come between us. No sordid joining of bodies can compare to our perfect union. I care not who my knight chooses to share his bed, any more than he cares if I lift my tail for a fine stallion in spring. But you jest with me, Lady Rose. We both know it is not my rider that you watch with such avid interest.”

“No, no, no!” Ferghal said in the background. “For the sun’s sake. If you hold a real sword that way, you will lose your fingers, boy. Put it down before you have someone’s eye out. I’ll show you the correct grip. Again.”

Cathy returned her attention to the oss, polishing the fine silver chains that draped its antlers as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Of course I am interested in observing the changeling’s progress. Your lord brought me here to assist with his training, after all.”

“You see?” Ferghal was saying. The knight had summoned his own sword. The blade flashed as he turned his wrist in demonstration. “You must hold it lightly, ready to swing in any direction. Not throttle the hilt like the neck of a poisonous serpent. Now pick up your weapon and—where is your sword, boy?”

“I don’t know.” Kevin turned, scanning the ground with exaggerated confusion. “You told me to put it down, so I did. It must be around here somewhere.”

A flash of black caught Cathy’s eye. Noodle shot across the far side of the pasture, tail wagging merrily. The puppy had a wooden practice sword clenched between his jaws. Without disturbing a single leaf, the black dog bounded straight into a hedge, and was gone.

Eislyn’s ears twitched back. “From the looks of things, your work is far from done. Despite the long hours the changeling spends in your chambers, there seems to be remarkably little progress.”

Cathy kept cleaning the oss in long, unhurried strokes, though her stomach clenched. “I do hope you did not intend that as a comment on my skill, Eislyn.”

“I meant no insult,” the alicorn said smoothly—thus proving that, unlike her high sidhe master, she could lie. “I am but a humble steed, with little knowledge of magic. I could not possibly judge how long it should take a competent adept to set a simple glamour.”

“There is nothing simple about it. The boy was already glamoured by the unseelie, and your lord’s efforts to replace them have only made the situation worse. It will take time to fix.”

Eislyn side-eyed her. This was somewhat unavoidable, given the positioning of equine eyes, but it was still a distinctly suspicious look. “I see. And how long might that take?”

“As long as necessary.” Cathy turned, folding her arms. “I grow weary of this constant needling, Eislyn. Your lord invited me here, may I remind you. Is it the place of a steed to question her knight’s decisions?”

“I bow to my lord’s will in all things,” the alicorn retorted. “He is a great and noble warrior. Perhaps, sometimes, too noble. It is my role to watch for things that he might be unable to see from his lofty position.”

“Then take any concerns you might have to your lord,” Cathy retorted, trying not to show how her heart was hammering against her ribs. “And see what he says.”

“Oh, I would.” Eislyn's lips drew back, exposing teeth far sharper than an ordinary horse’s. “If it was something that needed his decision. If it was something that posed a direct and immediate threat to his well-being, I would not. Those I am quite capable of handling on my own.”


Tags: Zoe Chant Fae Mates Paranormal