Page 5 of My Trojan Horse Majesty

The girl reaches her hand through the fence again, and even though I worry it’s a trap, I move closer still. The ground’s so wet underneath me that it’s practically boggy, but I ignore that and focus on her. I can sense our connection even more than I could before, but I still have no idea what it is.

She smells of horses, hay, and sunshine, and she’s staring at me eagerly. “You can’t be that bad, right boy?”

Could Steve, Gustav, Aleks and the others not have told the man or the woman what I am? I imagine they’d want to keep my identity and presence here as secret as they could. Disposing of a horse carcass would be simpler than a human body too, I imagine. But something they might not have considered in a place this small is the impact of external forces, humans moving beyond their control.

Ironically, the quieter they keep things, the more this principle applies.

If she thinks I’m just a horse, and not just that, a horse bound for death. . .mightshebe convinced to save me? If shedidtake me, she’d want to conceal her theft, at least for a while. That just might buy me some time and put me in a position where I can escape and hide safely until my powers return. All I have to do is convince this simpleton that I’ve been misunderstood and that she can save me.

It’s one of the primary failings of all humanity, but especially women, their desperate belief that they’re special enough to change someone or something fundamentally. That’s the reason Katerina pined for Alexei for so long. It’s why romance novels are so popular. It’s not their fault—it’s what they’re taught by society from birth—if you’re special, you can fix whatever broken guy you meet and make him someone who will love you.

In this case, I mean to lean in and make her think it’s true.

Fix me, I think, as I press my nose against her hand.

She flinches a little, like she thinks I’m going to bite her, and then she opens her eyes wide and exhales sharply.

It’s working.

But she won’t believe it if I make it all too easy, so I snort loudly, and I shift and then I lean in more, pressing my nose right into her palm, like I enjoy being near her. It must be a masterful performance, because she smiles like a complete idiot.

“What’s your name?” Her voice is annoyingly breathy.

I snort again, hoping she’ll take it as my stallion-nerves and not recognize it for derision.

“How about Drago?” she asks. “You remind me of a dragon among horses, and I might be about to do something really crazy.”

I call to her then, because it seems like she needs a little nudge to justdo it. I whinny, but I don’t snap or do anything aggressive.

“Let’s see.” Her smile grows even broader. “I wonder whether we might get along. Do you think I could break you and turn you into something worth a hundred thousand bucks?”

A hundred grand? Has she lost her mind? I’m an unridable mess. I bump her so she doesn’t realize how much I’m laughing inside.

“It would be better than dying, at least,” she mutters. “I’ll leave this up to fate. If I can manage to halter him and lead him into the trailer without anyone finding out. . .”

She waits until the man’s gone, and then she peers around, checking for anyone else. I have no idea how we’re this lucky, but. . .no one else is awake or out and moving around. She disappears into the barn around the corner, possibly planning something horrible, but I’m just thinking,don’t meet someone who will stop you…

Moments later, she finally emerges holding a ratty blue halter. It looks awfully small, but maybe that’ll help me sell this. I have to act alittlenervous, but seem to be calmed specifically byher.I need to exhibit just enough misbehavior to be believable, but somehow also be polite enough that she won’t bail and call for help or abort her mission.

When she approaches me, she’s as white as a snowdrift in the mountains. She looks like she might be sick at any moment, but after breathing in and out a few times, she lifts her hand, and she undoes the lock and opens the chains. Freedom calls to me, but there’s also that strange connection I feel to her. I need to figure out what that is before I bolt. Plus, without my powers, escaping’s kind of idiotic. Gustav could catch me quickly and trap me again—or kill me. Which is exactly what they’ll work out a way to do if I hang around here. I’m not sure my personal shield can absorb and redirect many more of their violent attempts without giving out entirely.

“This is the test.” She’s whispering to herself like a crazy person again. “If I can halter him and he loads for me, there’s a chance.”

The one place I can’t scare her off is right here, by the exit. She could change her mind in an instant, slam the gate shut in my face, and my window to an escape will be gone. I consider trotting over to her and sliding my head into the stupid halter straps. That would almost surely freak her out, so instead, I wait. And wait. And wait. She’s moving so slowly toward me that I want to scream again. Her hand’s trembling, and her mouth’s dangling open. When she finally reaches for me, I drop my head just an inch or two, but I make her do all the rest of the work, eyes rolling, nostrils flaring just a bit.

I also shift a bit, just to show her I’m thinking of leaving, but then I don’t.

As she struggles to fasten the buckle on the farthest hole, I can’t help being annoyed. What horse would stand still and quiet while a person fumbles their way around this much? Am I beingtoosubmissive?

“You might need a draft size halter with that massive head of yours. Even a warmblood size would fit better than this. Sorry it’s so small, big boy.”

Big Boy? She has no idea.

Then she rubs my nose. I swear, this whole situation’s painfully absurd. I walk beside her, thinking about where she might be taking me, and whether they might have an enclosure from which I could escape. Luckily, as we reach the trailer, I remember that I should be at least a little resistant so she can feel like she’s overcoming my objections.

A perfect horse going to a kill lot makes no sense, after all.

I balk at first, when she tries to lead me into the weird metal box, but the second time she asks me to follow her, clucking and cooing, I do. “It’s three hours to get to my place. We’ll be there before you know it, I swear. And then tomorrow, once you’re settled in, we’ll get to work.”

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