Page 35 of Hold my Reins

But he was nervous about playing for Rox.

He definitely hadn’t been constructing their mating song, creating new measures with each passing day. And he was not playing that song today.

Because it didn’t exist.

The more times he said it, the faster the lie was going to wear through.

Today Rox had done his usual thing of playing a few scales and then thumbing through a music book, selecting a song and then stopping before repeating.

“Have you considered buying some new music?” Lynck asked as he pulled over a chair and sat near Rox.

Rox nodded. “I have…I’ve even looked at a few online. I’m not quite there yet.” He smiled and glanced at the violin. “I’m excited to hear you play.”

“I re-tuned it to kelpie style, so the notes will sound a little odd, but I thought you’d like something more traditional.” And he was not going to play the tune forming in his heart, growing every time he saw Rox, even though he was sure Rox would join in and add to the melody.

He wasn’t ready to share. Before he did that, he needed the damn bridle removed.

It had to be possible. Since telling Rox about it, he’d tried again, pulling at the chain and then trying to cut through it with scissors. He’d thought about asking Thursten to use his ax, but that meant explaining what the chain was, and that meant revealing too many secrets. It had been hard enough to tell Rox.

Rox leaned forward, eyes bright. “I’d love to hear some kelpie music.”

Lynck smiled. He’d practiced at home because he hadn’t played some of them for so long. He hadn’t been sure what to play at first. A jaunty party tune? A funeral lament? While both were pretty, they weren’t what he wanted to share. “It’s a work song, something that was sung while farming or weaving or making a meal.”

“So shared with others?”

“Yes, while there are some lyrics, new verses are made up on the spot, poking fun at the job or recounting recent gossip.”

“Music was a big part of your life.”

It wasn’t only the music he missed; it was the community, the way others joined the song. “It is a big part of herd life.” He drew in a breath, understanding how hard it was to play the songs that held so much meaning beyond their notes. But if he didn’t share them, he’d never hear them again. “I won’t be singing.”

He lifted the violin and ran the bow over the strings to make sure he was happy with the sound. Then he launched into the song. It wasn’t complex and could go on forever, but every player added their own embellishments. It was the first song a child learned as they sat at the hooves of their parents.

Rox tilted his head, no doubt because the notes sounded off to him, the same way human music had to him at first. Not out of tune, but enough that his ears had tried to find therealnotes. He saw the same puzzlement on Rox’s face.

In his mind, he heard the voice of his family singing as they worked, laughing and encouraging as people tried to make a verse—not everyone excelled at coming up with something in the moment.

He played the chorus a final time and added a flourish to signify the end.

Rox clapped. “That did sound weird at first, but once I stopped trying to figure out why, I got it. It’s kind of fun.”

“It is meant to take the tedium out of some tasks.”

“I’ll be humming that while I do laundry.”

Lynck laughed. “Yes. Though you aren’t hand scrubbing by the river.”

“Your herd sounds lovely, and then you say something like that, and I feel blessed to have access to washing machines.”

“And grocery stores.” Because farming and fishing, while he missed the freshness and the activity, were also tiresome. And if no fish were caught, then dinner was a little slimmer.

“True. I wouldn’t know how to find dinner if my life depended on it.”

“When you grow up hunting your own dinner, you don’t think anything of it. It is just a part of life, and you don’t know any different.” He’d only been beyond his village a few times—to visit other herds and also to a town for trade once—before beingcaptured. But those glimpses had revealed a much bigger world that he’d wanted to explore.

At first, he’d thought that wanderlust was to blame for his capture, that somehow it had marked him out.

“What is your world like?” Rox asked.

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