Page 14 of My Wild Horse King

“Lurking around and peering at what kind of security measures are in place is hardly a surrender,” Mikhail says. “Did he really turn you down again?”

“He’s already upgraded.” Boris frowns.

I kick dirt at them so hard that it flies up in their eyes, and then I march past them both.

The guards on this round of patrols were here when I left—they know me. At least, they know enough to be afraid of me. I’m not really proving anything, but it feels nice to be walking in a few steps ahead of idiot one and two. I breeze down the main hall, only having to zap one guard who decides I may not be authorized. He jumps back quickly, which is always a little gratifying, and I continue on my way. But when I reach the throne room, it’s irritatingly empty.

Boris is practically huffing when he catches up to me. A little dirt shouldn’t have set him that far behind, so maybe he’s let himself get out of shape.

“He’s not here.”

“You’ve always had a knack for stating the obvious,” I say. “Just tell me where he is.”

His mouth twists in irritation, but he mutters, “Follow me,” as he turns on his heel and storms out.

I don’t expect to wind up outside, but that’s where we are after I follow Boris down a long hallway I’ve never walked and through the side gate.

In fact, I’m staring at the barn. Leonid didn’t grow up wealthy like we did, and he knows almost nothing about horses. In spite of his best efforts, he’s never been able to shift into his horse form, since he hasn’t mastered all his magical abilities yet. I think that’s why he’s never been too keen on horses. He avoids stables and riding, as a general rule.

This is the last place I expected to see him, but as we walk up, I can’t help noticing what he’s doing.

Blowing things up.

Spectacularly.

And then, more surprisingly, he’s putting them back together. It’s not quite as elegant, but it’s working disturbingly well.

First, he stares intently at a large, round bale of hay. Then he spreads his hands and shoots his fingers outward. The bale of hay explodes, but before the pieces can even flutter to the ground, his hands flex and then come together, and as he tightens them back into a ball shape, the hay sucking back in, the broken pieces knitting together and reforming into a bale. Even the string tightens back down, the threads weaving together and retying.

I’ve never seen anything like it.

“The elements work together, you know,” Leonid says, his eyes still trained on the bale of hay. “All living—and unliving—things have an electric charge, and most living things are made with at least some component of water. Add in fire, and you know, there’s not much I can’t do.” He drops his hands and looks at me. “Notmuch, but soon, there won’t beanything.”

“I’m not sure,” I say. “The only people who can use wind and earth just left the country.”

Leonid smiles. “It will take me some time to fully master my abilities here. As you know, once I gain a new affinity, I’m wiped out for days.”

I did know. I debated telling the others—they seemed to be struggling to grasp why he let them leave. They had no idea that their departure was exactly what he needed. Had they stayed, he’d have collapsed in front of them. They might have caught him and caged him while he was down.

“I didn’t share your secret,” I say. “Instead, I came here, offering to share one of theirs.”

“But you want something for it.” Leonid sighs. “That’s the problem with you, Katerina. It always has been. You’ve had countless opportunities tobeon my side, but you never take it. In your heart of hearts, you’ve always beenhis.”

We both know who he means. He’s the only man I’ve ever really loved. Even if to Alexei, it was always fake.

To me, it’s always been real, and Leonid has been the only one who saw that. “You won’t be shocked at what I’m here to offer.”

Leonid raises one eyebrow. I find it hard to look at him sometimes. He’s so beautiful, like a work of art, or someone out of a painting. Even when he’s wearing a look of displeasure, his beauty cuts like a knife. “Go ahead.” He waves his hand through the air. “Offer it already.”

“I’m sorry. Did you have a full day of exploding things planned, and I’m interrupting?”

He laughs. It actually makes his face even more unbearably perfect. But it’s not the same kind of beauty that Alexei has. No, Alexei’s like the horse, running through the field. He’s like a shining golden retriever, smiling at the world. Leonid’s beauty is different, deadly—like nightshade, or a blue-ringed octopus. He’s a poison dart frog, or a leopard that’s half-starved. He’s as likely to destroy you while you ogle him as anything I’ve ever seen.

“You know what I’m here to ask for.” I cock my head. “You know what I want.”

“I can’t give you Alexei, even broken though he is. Someone else already wandered along and snatched him up.” He looks as irritated by that as I am.

I scowl.

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