Page 59 of All Saints: Pledge

“I was thinking of going on a tour, or a walk?”

She thinks. “Hm. I wasn’t thinking outside. Maybe you go do your walk and then find me in the library? There’s a fireplace in there.” She looks around. “All this stonework is gorgeous but I’mcold.”

“Okay, will do.”

I hadn’t brought too many casual outdoorsy options, but Aoife helps me pick out a pair of slim legged black trousers that I pull knee-high boots up over. Leaning into the equestrian feel, I go for layering a printed shirt under a blazer, and finally pull out my emerald green coat. I hesitate, thinking of Dominic, feeling that familiar pull of what my lifecould bewithout All Saints. But. I’ve chosen to come here. I’ve overcome everything Kendall has done to try to scare me off. Ibelonghere just as much as any of the other pledges. And right now, the part of my life that the green coat represents is on hold. And so, I carefully hang the green coat back up before grabbing a slimmer black trench coat. It’s not as lovely as the green, but the black is perfect for the current Helena. I guess I’m in my villain era.

Five minutes later, I’m being chauffeured down the drive by Edmund in the golf cart, headed for the horse barn. The driveway is considerably more bumpy in the cart, and I have to hang onto the handles for dear life. Noting my posture, Edmund zips to the side when he can. Even so, when we arrive at the stables, I climb out gratefully. I decline his offer to pick me up, stating I’d rather walk, thanks.

It’s peaceful and deeplygreenhere, even with the bite in the air. Like everything is rich and luxurious, right down to the air that smells of distant rain. The horses grazing in the field flick their tails slowly. It even seems like it’s not super buggy despite the humidity and lushness.

I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to just climb the fence and approach the horses, so I turn to the little gray stone barn. I say little barn, but it’s bigger than any back-yard barn I have ever seen in my neighborhood. You have to drive down near the Colorado Horse Park, which we did when I took lessons as a kid, to see this level of stable digs. The floor is made of the samecobble, but there is a thick rubber mat running down the center of it, muffling my footfalls as I wander down the sunny aisle.

The stalls are all empty, save for one.

“Sunset Run,” I murmur, reading the plaque on his stall. I glance in and I’m met with a large, intelligent eye. “Well, you certainly are a beauty,” I murmur, appreciating his long legs, elegant head, and swiveling ears.

“You have good taste,” a voice comes from the other end of the aisle. A figure approaches, and I squint against the brighter light, unable to make it out. For a wild moment, I think Kendall has found me, but instead, it’s his father.

“I’m so sorry. Should I not be in here?”

He ables up as if we’ve known each other forever. I bristle a little as he leans against the stall next to me, our arms brushing. He doesn’t answer my question but nods to the horse in the stall. “His sire was an Eclipse Award winner.”

I turn to appraise the horse in the stall. “So an American-bred Thoroughbred? I thought that was sacrilege to the Irish.”

Kendall’s father turns to appraise me. “Sometimes the Irish have a taste for foreign delights.” His eyes flick down to my blazer and back up. They’re calculating. “You ride, correct?”

“I do—did. When I was younger, I don’t so much anymore.”

Augustine nods. “It’s a noble sport. I’m glad to hear you were raised with an eye to tradition, Helena.”

The way he says my name is intimate, again like we’re longtime friends having a chat. Like he says my name all the time, and it’s unsettling. I know he’s the head of our little organization, but…alarm bells are ringing in my head. Kendall has said his father specifically chosemeto be here. To test Kendall. And I’m not even sure what that means. “My grandfather raised racehorses,” I answer.

There’s an odd light in his eyes when he responds. “Ah, yes. I recall that. So you appreciate the Sport of Kings?”He turns to look at the horse. “What do you think of this one, given your background? It would be an honor to hear from the granddaughter of an esteemed breeder such as your grandfather. Pity your father didn’t carry on the family…business.”

There’s a barb running deep in that conversation, and I decide to sidestep it completely lest I fall in a deep end of a pool I can’t get out of, conversationally.

I turn to appraise the horse in the stall. "Well, he certainly looks like an athlete. Well built, a little high in the croup, but I assume he's going through a growth spurt. Deep chest, clean legs. A little light in bone in the joints for my taste." I shrug. "Looks aren't everything though, so much of it comes down to heart. One of my grandfather's best broodmares had crooked back legs and a long back. But when she ran, she didn't care if she wasn't as well built. Mean as a bull, that one. She scared everyone else on the field into running slower than her."

“Indeed,'“ he says after a pause. “Very well stated.”

He doesn't seem in a hurry to leave, so I shuffle my feet. “Well, I was going to continue on my walk, so...”

“Ah, excellent, I'll join you. Out to see the others?”

The look I toss his direction must convey some of my hesitancy.

“The horses are my favorite thing here, I visit every time I'm here too. Unless you'd prefer to be alone, I have determined to spend a little time with each candidate this trip. A part of the interview process to see how you are coming along. How you are experiencing our organization,” he says on a shrug. “This works for me if it works for you.”

Ah yes, Clara stated he met with her after the underground party. I still don't feel settled but nod. “Okay.”

Because of Kendall’s warnings, I just don’t trust this man. But he holds out an elbow, and I have no choice but to loop myarm through his. “Lead the way,” I say, though I'm not sure if he's leading me straight into something I'm going to regret.

27

The chill from the morning’s frost has gone, leaving behind tendrils of mist as the day warms up. Leaning on a black-painted fence post, looking out at Irish countryside, it’s hard to believe I’m not enjoying myself. Well, not entirely, at least. I take a picture of the horses grazing in the lush field, and send it to Jaqueline, just toproveto myself that this gorgeous viewisworth the awkward conversation I’m having.

So far, Kendall’s father has grilled me about which aspects of my scholarship service I’ve liked, and what I’ve found challenging. I’m trying really hard not to sound like a slob when I admit the regular workout requirements are hard for me. I couch it as tough to find the time, even though I find the monotony of gym workouts soul sucking.

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