Page 44 of My Queendom for a Horse

“What on earth are you doing?” John asks. “That horse cost more than my home, and you’re just turning him and shooting him toward taller and taller jumps and hoping he clears them?”

I close my mouth with a snap.

“Where’s his moronic trainer with the strange methods? He sleeps all day most days, and I never see him working with the horse, so at the very least, he should be out here telling you to stop instead of leaving me to deal with it.”

Actually, I came out here with the intention of wearing Obsidian out enough that he’d forget about my date in a few hours. I’m planning to accidentally leave him in his stall. Somehow, Aleks always makes me lose my focus, and now it seems like Obsidian’s just as dangerous.

“You raise a good point. I’ll go work him on the flat.”

Eduards actually looks pretty disappointed, but at least Obsidian doesn’t fight with me when I wheel him around and head for the outdoor arena. It’s cold, but at least the sun is shining. Just before we head out, I zip my coat up the rest of the way.

And then I work him as hard as I feel comfortable doing. Somehow, as I’m tacking him down, it almost feels like I worked harder than he did. My arms are tired. My back is sore. My thighs, which never get sore because of how often I ride, are a little shaky.

“Alright, boy. Let’s get you back to your stall.”

My plan doesn’t work as well as I might have hoped. He’s definitely not too distracted, tired, or absentminded when I go to put him away. We’re about two feet away from the door to his stall when he sets his feet.

I tug.

He doesn’t budge.

“Come on, Obsidian.”

He glares at me and tosses his head, and I nearly drop the lead line. “Hey. None of that. Let’s go.”

He shakes his head slowly back and forth.

I grit my teeth. “You have to go into your stall, and then I’ll come shift you later.” I glance at the window. “We have to keep you as a horse all day, like always. Fair is fair.”

He paws at the ground and eyes me pointedly, as if to say, Don’t forget. You have to come back out.

“I have a farm call to make, and then I need to shower, but I will come back.” It’s not exactly a lie. I just said later, not exactly when. Things with Sean are complicated enough without having an ancient, awkward Russian bouncer following me around.

I’m actually sort of proud of myself when I leave him in his stall. We may have gotten off to a bumpy start, but I’m learning to manage Obsidian the same way I learned to manage horses when I was just getting started. One misstep at a time.

Sure, I give on things like that first day, when he demanded to come. I give because I don’t have a choice—I can’t win a pulling match. But I outsmart him later, and that’s what matters. That’s what he’ll remember.

Luckily, my farm call ends up being minor. A mare ripped a chunk off her heel. Horses stuck in stalls do all kinds of dumb things. That makes me think about Obsidian, and I almost feel bad. But then I remember that he thinks I need him to protect me. What a laughable thought. Once I bandage the mare, I head right back home. I have plenty of time to shower and get ready. The thought of an actual date with Sean, without a crazy horse shifter in tow, has my stomach doing tiny flip-flops.

Actually, in some ways, the craziness with Aleksandr or Obsidian—I really don’t know what to call him in my head—has kept me from getting too anxious about the whole Sean thing. When you’re dealing with a curse, possible magic, and a horse-man who needs to escape to fight the people who probably killed the Romanovs. . .well, it puts my little loan issues into perspective.

Sean is, as ever, right on time, pulling up in his black sedan right at seven p.m. And if I hear a stallion screaming in the background, well, I ignore it.

“You look even more beautiful than you did back in school,” Sean says.

It’s nice that he appreciates the time I spent. I almost never curl my hair, and I’m lucky if I find time to swipe mascara on my eyelashes. Putting on eye shadow and concealer makes me feel like I’m Cinderella preparing for a ball.

And he noticed.

“I thought maybe we’d get something a little nicer tonight.” Sean smiles.

“Discovered Gubernators, did you?” I pause. “Or wait, Cafe Imbir?” The beauty of living in Latvia is that, even though Daugavpils is considered to be a large town, by comparison to, say, London, or really anywhere else Sean has ever been, it’s small. There just aren’t that many places to eat.

He smiles. “I was thinking Art Hub.”

I’m impressed. Art Hub isn’t that easy to find, and usually only locals like it. “Someone has been doing his homework.”

“I went there for lunch yesterday, and I thought, this is a place Kris would like.”

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