Page 96 of My Queendom for a Horse

“Really, Sean, I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I can drive you,” he says. “Or—”

“If you suggest that your driver take me home,” I say, “I might scream.”

At least Sean knows his limits. He doesn’t argue anymore. He just waves goodbye.

And I spend the entire ride back to Kempton Park thinking about how different we are. Though, that may not be the biggest issue. I mean, Aleksandr is Russian, he’s about a gazillion years older than I am, and he can turn into a horse. I doubt we could be more different.

But I haven’t been put in the same situations with him. We’ve never dated, and he only likes me because he wants to take me home in his pocket and pull me out whenever things go wrong.

It’s hard to remember that, sometimes.

Like all night long, when I dream of long, hard rides and sweating skin. I wake up feeling very exhausted and remarkably bothered.

I’m proud of myself for not showing any of that when I reach the stables. Without a mention about last night or the drama or my doubts, I saddle Obsidian Devil calmly and walk him out to the birdcage so we’ll be there for the build-up, parade, and regirthing. Finn’s there with a large horse I’ve seen at least once before, and he’s having trouble keeping him still.

Racehorses aren’t known for being calm on the ground, but I’m worried he might run over Finn before he even swings up into the saddle.

I flog my brain to try and place whose mount it is. “Is that—”

“Flaming Shot,” he says. “I rode him last season, in the Champion Hurdle, at Cheltenham.”

“Ah, right. The day before the Cup.”

Finn nods. As we approach, his large grey whinnies a loud Hello. Obsidian snorts and paws at the ground.

“Are you going to be able to control your boy?” Finn shakes his head a bit.

It’s a little bit ironic he’s asking, since Obsidian is standing utterly calm and his horse is throwing a fit.

“I don’t envy you the ride today,” Finn continues, “if I’m being honest. I hate riding stallions for hunts, but he’s the worst I’ve ever had to deal with.”

I shrug and run a hand over his nose. “There are just eight horses in today’s race. Plus, I’ve had him almost two months. He’ll be a totally different horse this time, trust me.”

“They’re saying it’ll be a tight race. My mum’s here and she put a fiver on both of us to win.” He laughs. “She said she’ll buy me ice cream to cheer me up if I lose.”

“Your own mum’s betting against you.” I whistle. “That must hurt.”

“I told her you were the only horse here that might take me.”

I shiver. “But ice cream? It’s forty degrees and wet outside. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but there’s something wrong with your mom, Finn.”

He shrugs. “That’s why, no matter how much I liked you back when you were in school, we never would have worked. You just don’t have the same passion for ice cream that McGees do.”

Finn’s just being ridiculous. There’s no way he ever liked me back then. Before I can mock him for teasing me, Flaming Shot shifts and starts to veer sideways, so Finn walks him in a big circle. I take a moment to check out our competition, now that we’re nose-to-nose.

Brigadier General, a large bay gelding, is actually favored to win, but I heard that Flaming Shot was ranked just behind him. I can see why they favor Brigadier, but he doesn’t do well on heavy ground. If I remember right from last year, Flaming Shot will have the edge on him there. Leggy horses tend to run better in the sloppy races. Heavy weights like Brigadier General sink too much with each stride. He may have recently picked up both the Sodexo Gold and the Betvictor, but this will be his first significant challenge.

Brigadier’s jockey is mean as a badger. I try never to talk to Rex McComb. It seems fitting that Rickets would have hired him as one of his permanent stable jockeys. Brigadier’s only seven, just like Five Times Fast. He’s shiny and sleek and if I wasn’t racing against him, I’d put a fiver on him. Except if I won, it would mean that Rickets won. That’s extra incentive for me to try hard, as if I needed any more.

Apex, a chestnut gelding with three white socks and a blaze, keeps tossing his head and shying, and I wonder whether Paddy Farland can handle him. He won the King George last year on Apex, so they’ll be a hard pair to beat, but Apex looks off today. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

Down On My Luck is a leggy, dappled roan, but I’ve seen him run before and although they look strange, his gangly legs work just fine, especially when the ground’s soggy like today. It’s a lucky draw for a mudlark like him, especially since the weather was supposed to be sunny and dry. His jockey, Anthony Felt, knows what he’s doing, and his trainer has been talking for months about his improvement this season.

Stay Behind Me is a write in, and other than feeling like the patchy looking sorrel is a little out of his element, I don’t know much about him. The owner—Hertzman Farms—was a major player for years, but I thought they’d kind of given up on steeplechase in favor of flat. Maybe they’re reprioritizing.

In It To Win It and Earl Grey are here again. Now I know that Earl Grey starts out quick but isn’t a stayer, so I’m not worried. In It To Win It did quite well last time, coming in third place, but was always a length behind Five and me. I’m not too worried about either of them facing off against Obsidian Devil at full throttle. I haven’t heard from Patrick, In It To Win It’s owner, since I smoked his horse at Down Royal, so I didn’t even know he’d be here.

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