Chapter 44

Kat

“Kat!”Maryrattlesthelocked knob of my room. “Kat! The master wishes to see you! He’s outside waiting for you!”

I wipe my puffy eyes with my sleeve and smear my snotty nose on my pillow. “Can I speak with him another time? Please?”

“No, it has to be now.” She sounds urgent. Urgently . . .excited. “Come at once! You will want to talk to him now. I promise you.”

I delay a second longer. Then, with a groan, I drag myself out of bed and stumble to the door. My leg aches only a little bit, but enough to catch my notice when everything else feels miserable.

I drag my feet through the house toward the front door. Mary tries to get me to go faster, but I cannot think of what Rahk could possibly want to tell me that would make me glad for him to see me in this tear-streaked, red-faced, rumpled clothes, and matted hair . . .situation. I certainly don’t want to seeanyoneright now.

But it’s not Rahk I see when Mary pushes me out the door into the courtyard.

It’s four strong legs, with a glossy golden-brown coat, a thick mane, that characteristic white spot near her eye. She nickers and tosses her head.

“Bartholomew!” I shriek.

The tears are pouring free again. I rush forward and bury my wet face in her velvety neck. She immediately tries to eat my hair. I laugh, running my fingers over as much of her as I can. Then I survey her. “You’re not any thinner than when you were taken! It looks like you’ve been well taken care of. Look at you! Oh, you beautiful girl!”

She tosses her head and blows her stinky horse breath into my face. Her ears cup forward, her soft nose nuzzling my cheek. I laugh as I hug her neck. She plops her heavy head over my shoulder.

She’s just as happy to see me.

Then I remember Rahk.

I turn around. He’s standing a few feet away, his arms crossed casually over his chest, his weight on one leg, as he watches me with a pair of twinkling eyes.

I don’t care that Mary and the other servants have crowded around the doors and windows, watching my reunion with my horse. All I know is that the gratitude I feel for this man is too much to contain.

My legs carry me in a burst of speed straight to Rahk, and he barely has time to raise his eyebrows and untuck his arms before I barrel straight into him. I fling my arms around his waist and bury my head in his chest. In any other circumstance, I would be embarrassed by my out-of-control sobbing.

“Thank you!” I weep, embracing him as hard as I can. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

To my surprise, his arms wrap around me, holding me in return. I melt against him, breathing in his comforting scent, and all at once, become aware of how wonderful his embrace is. He brings his head down to mine and presses a kiss to the top of my wild hair. Lightning flashes through my gut and pins me in place.

“You’re welcome,” his low voice rumbles.

When I peel my face away from his chest enough to look up at his face, I find him smiling down at me.

It’s suddenly too much. I withdraw my arms. He releases me and I step back, wiping my face with my sleeve to try to mop up the tears as I pull my composure back under control. Rahk’s hand appears in my vision with a handkerchief. I accept the offering gratefully. In the tail of my eye, I catch him gesturing with his other hand that the watching servants give me privacy. They obey at once.

I return to Bartholomew, who prances her front legs in excitement as I scratch her nose. “How did you ever find her?” I manage to ask. “I was certain she was dead!”

“I just threatened life and limb and that did the trick,” says Rahk with a little smirk.

I shoot a look at him, unsure if he is serious or not. He comes to my side and puts out a hand. To my surprise, Bartholomew nuzzles into it. Then she begins sniffing him, as though searching for something.

“Someone’s wife thought she was exceptional and took good care of her in your absence. Now that I see the creature, I must agree. She is no young animal, but she is strong, well-spirited, and apparently a good judge of character.”

I laugh. “She may like you without knowing you long, but I cannot call her judgment unflawed. She never liked Mary, which is obviously a strike against her. But that’s alright. She makes up for it by being perfect in every other way. Aren’t you, Bartholomew?”

Rahk chuckles and produces a package of carrots from his pocket. Bartholomew pulls her lips back from her teeth and tries to chomp them right out of his hand. He’s faster, however, and grins as he hands them to me.

I usually only give her a few at a time, but this is a special occasion. I let her eat all of them with their leafy tops. Then I glance back at Rahk. “May I . . .”

He lifts a brow, waiting for me to finish.