Page 16 of My Trojan Horse Majesty

My best bet at regaining my powers and being freed is to cooperate with this girl. She’s smart, she’s kind, and I’m even more sure she’s good than I was before. To figure out what’s connecting us, I’ll need to spend more time with her, so I’ve decided to be a ‘good boy’ for a while. Plus, if she tries to abandon me, I’ll pass out again at the very least.

Could I die if she keeps moving away after I pass out? Would she even notice? What if she leaves me in here to go to the store?

I’m not really keen on finding out.

She’s planning to ‘train’ me, so I need to be good enough to keep her interested, but not good enough that she thinks she can sell me yet. For her to really try and work with me, she can’t be afraid of me. I hate thinking how far I set back her trust with my ill-advised bolting, but taking that bullet must’ve helped to restore her faith. Unfortunately, it also absorbed the end of my protection spell. Another hit like that one, and I really will be gushing blood from an open wound.

Until I regain my powers, an injury like that could kill me.

“Alright, boy. You eat and rest. I have some work to do and some emails to send, but I’ll be back out in a few hours. I was going to give you today off, but I’m kind of in a hurry. Maybe I’ll come back out this afternoon to see what you can do.” She smiles softly, and I know it’s just for me.

It makes me happy in a way I can’t explain, and I hate it. I can’t be giddy about some little girl smiling at me. I’m not really a horse, and it’s vital that I not forget my purpose here.

After she disappears inside the house, I try to focus on my next steps. I pace back and forth while I review them. First, I need to figure out how I’m connected to Izzy Brooks. Then I need to figure out how to sever that connection. And finally, I need to make sure that once I’m free of her, I can still regain my powers. I should have control of all five elements now, but when I reach for them. . .there’s nothing there.

When I try to shift back into my human form, it’s the same.

It’s so frustrating that I want to kill people. At home, it was easy to round up petty tyrants, murderers, and mob enforcers. Here, though, there’s no way to vent my fury. I could shout, but when I scream as a horse, people, namely Izzy Brooks, think I’m unhinged. I drag my hoof through the dirt and realize that I’ve been pacing back and forth all over the hay Izzy brought.

Why do horses have to eat dead grass dumped on the ground?

Since we’re inUtah, there’s no live grass right now. Everything’s brown or gold. It’s so disgusting that I’d rather just die than eat it. . .until I involuntarily take a bite and my teeth start working, and suddenly the dry, dirty bits of hay—why don’t they rinse it before drying?—are disintegrating in my mouth and it’s actually not that bad.How have I never realized how delicious grass could be? I was probably biased by the fact that I walked around on it. It’s a little embarrassing when I realize that I’ve eaten nearly every speck of hay that was piled up, and now I’m using my enormous, floppy lips in conjunction with my air-blowing nostrils to try and sort dirt from hay so I can find just a few more bites.

How pathetic have I become in less than one day?

I force myself to walk away from the hay, and just to kill time, I walk to the other end of my paddock and finally greet the horses who have been watching me this entire time. The mare whinnies and tosses her head, her mane rippling in the breeze. The gelding, clearly much older, paws at the dirt beneath his hooves and shrieks.

I whinny back, but it’s not like I have much to say. Within a minute or two, I find myself walking back and snuffling around on the ground for more shreds of hay. It’s so undignified. The only things worse are the piles of poo that just sort ofpopout whenever they feel like it. At least when I finally go pee, I appear to have impressive equipment in this form.

The downside is that, even though I stretched my back legs out as far as I possibly could, I could still feel pee splattering on the front of my back legs and on the back of my front legs. I’m trying to work out a way to wipe it off that doesn’t involve my nose when I hear the door to the house open.

It’s a little embarrassing how excited I am to see Izzy again.

But at least she can’t really tell. After my initial reaction, I drop my head and go back to nosing around in the dirt. Then I start to wonder whether being attentive to this tiny, powerless human or being a dirt-nuzzler is more pathetic. When Izzy disappears into the barn, I know the answer.

I call out for her involuntarily, almost. It’s not really my fault. I sensed the bond connecting us easing as she drew near, and then it tightened again as she walked away.

“I’m coming.” Her voice is sing-songy in a way I’ve never noticed with anyone else. “Be right there, Mr. Whiny Pants.”

Whinypants? I don’t even have pants. What’s she saying? Maybe it’s an American phrase I simply haven’t heard yet. She emerges a moment later, lugging a saddle, a bridle, and a thick, ugly saddle pad.

“I stole you in Manila, Utah.” She huffs, clearly winded from carrying such a large saddle. “I’m guessing any training you’ve had has been Western.”

She’s cute, but also kind of dumb.

I never understood why humans like those dumb, ugly dogs, but maybe this is like that. I like herbecauseshe’s so dumb. She unlocks the paddock and picks the saddle and gear up again, shoving her way through with it into my enclosure.

“Alright.” She sets it down near the fence, and then she approaches me with a halter. “Let’s see if you’ll let me handle you this time without any evil henchmen nearby trying to beat money out of me.”

I shy away twice, just to keep her on her toes.

“Does it take the threat of danger for you to behave?” She frowns. “Maybe I should go pick up?—”

I shove my face into the halter and stand still. Can’t have her leaving to pick anyone up. I ought to shift and stomp around a little to sell my unease, probably, but her feet look really small. I’d hate to clip one.

Not because I care about her.

Just because a wounded Izzy won’t help me get any closer to discovering how we’re connected. She’d probably go to the hospital, and I’d die while she was gone.

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