Page 18 of My Trojan Horse Majesty

She doesn’t realize how great she is—that’s her problem. I wonder why, but if I had to guess, I’d place blame somewhere aroundTim.

“And it’s only getting worse.” She sighs heavily. “I just found out that I didn’t even get into vet school, and he’s not only a vet, he’s an equine orthopedic surgeon—the best in the state. But he’s patient with me, and he never acts like he’s too good for me, even though he is.”

I’m sick of hearing her talk about this guy like he’s a saint. Clearly he’s the problem. I toss my head.

“Yes, I’m sure you get it—you’re just like that. They didn’t understand you either, and that’s how you wound up headed for the kill pen.”

I stomp my foot, hard. I hate that’s she’s comparing me to that jerk.

“I’m just as upset as you,” she says. “Is that it? You’re frustrated?” She has a bemused expression like she’s just playing a game.

I shake my head.

“There aren’t any flies, you know.” She laughs. “I swear, if I didn’t know better, I would think you were answering me.” She leans against my neck, holding the reins in one hand. “The thing about dating someone who’s, like, ten times better than you, is that you always feel like a loser. It’s worth it to be with him, but imagine how the moon would feel, dating the sun.” She lifts the reins, showing them to me closely. “All the stars keep telling me to dump the sun, but the moon cantellthe sun is the best thing out there. Can you fault her for wanting to be near its magnificence, even if it makes her light not look so bright?”

But stars are also suns—I’ve learned that since waking. She’s just too close to the situation to see how he intentionally dims her light. I wish I could talk. I’d tell her what she’s missing.

Sounds like plenty of other people have already tried, though.

“I should lead you out into the courtyard where I have a mounting block,” she says. “But I’m too worried you’ll bolt.” She glances at the water trough. “I could maybe climb up on that, but I swear, if I ever told anyone this story, they’d think I was certifiable. I absconded with a horse who was going to the kill pen, and then he knocked my saddle over, so I just climbed on him bareback. Easy peasy.”

I whuffle her hand.

“You and I don’t make sense,” she says. “There’s no way anyone would understand what I’m about to do, but when I learned to train a horse, it was with liberty. It’s a method that’s about seeing and interpreting what the horse is telling you. It’s about communicating in whatever way works, and I swear, it feels like you understand me. It feels like I can trust younotto hurt me.” She laughs. “Which is stupid. You’re a horse. Your primary directive is to keep yourself safe, and you’re scared of everything. Bags. Trash. Wind. Small dogs that couldn’t even get their mouth around your ankles.” She sighs. “Nevertheless, here we go.”

She leads me over to the water trough, and I stand, still as a lamb, while she hoists herself up on the metal rim with one foot, the other floating in the air.

I take one small step closer to her and turn my head to watch.

Her smile’s brilliant. “Aren’t you a sweet boy.” She slides her leg over my back. “And such a lovely top line.” She runs her free hand down my back and side.

A shiver runs through my entire body.

I want her to touch memore.

Which is crazy. Why should I want her to touch me? It must be something about our connection. That’s probably why I feel this way.

“Alright.” She pats my neck. “Now let’s see what cues you know.”

None. I know no cues. I’ve never been ridden by anyone—at least, not in this form.

When she tightens up on the reins, I become acutely aware of the strip of segmented metal between my teeth. She’s not pulling, but it’s like I canfeelher hands right there in my mouth. It’s strangely. . .intimate. Someone on my body, telling me what to do with her hands.

When she bumps my side with her feet, I shoot forward. That was almost. . .intuitive. I don’t really like anyone telling me what to do—never have, but for some reason, I don’t hate this.

“Okay, that’s a trot,” she says. “Good. But you don’t have to shoot off when I ask you to move. You can simply step off.” She pulls back, just a hair, on the reins and the bit pivots on my tongue.

I stop.

“Good boy.” She pats my neck. “Alright, now let’s see if you know how to move over.”

A moron would get this one. She presses on my left side with her left foot, so I move away from the pressure, shifting to the right. It takes me a minute to realize that when her foot is forward, she wants the front part of my body to move right, and when her foot shifts back, she wants my butt to move over.

“Good!”

Aaaand, we’re right back to me feeling annoyed at how happy I am to have pleased her. For the czar of Russia, I sure am pathetic.

It’s all a means to an end, I remind myself.

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