Page 22 of My Queendom for a Horse

“Start the same way you changed me in the first place, maybe?”

“Like, put my hand on your neck and say I wish you were a horse?” I arch one eyebrow. “Can it really be that simple?”

“Things like this usually are,” he says.

He’s so matter-of-fact, like he’s an everyday expert on curses and their operations. He did say he could shift himself before.

I can’t believe any of this is happening, but I force myself to think back anyway. We were racing down the path, and I was feeling sorry for myself. I touched his neck, and I said something about how I wished he was a human. I reach my hand back toward him. I try not to think about how he’s wearing nothing beneath. . . Oh! The borrowed coat.

“Maybe you better take this off. If this works, it’ll be a little too small for you.”

I swear, his smile’s going to kill me. “Just a little.” He slides the coat off and hands it to me. I try not to think about how very naked he is. I take the coat, slide my arms back inside it, and then reach back toward him. He holds his hand out toward mine. Again, his touch against my skin feels electric, like static current before you get zapped. I wonder if the hair on my head is standing on end.

“Okay, we’re touching. Now. Maybe I say something like. . .I wish this big, naked man was a horse instead.”

It should be difficult and complex and horrifyingly problematic for me to transform a man into a stallion, but the same jolt I felt before repeats—stronger than the feeling when we touch, but not dissimilar—and I watch as it happens this time. One moment he’s standing in front of me, naked, and for a split second, he blurs, and then he’s a horse.

I’m unchanged, and he’s a tremendously large black stallion. He has the same vibrant golden eyes, and the same jet-black hair, er, mane, but he’s most definitely equine, not homo sapiens.

I know it’s still him, but I can’t help it. I think of him as Obsidian again. He looks at me with the exact same expression the man did before, as if to say, Are you an idiot? Let’s go.

I sigh. “Did I just imagine that entire thing?” I start walking back down the path toward the abandoned saddle and bridle, which are now both covered in mud, and I shake my head. I use the stream to clean off the saddle and pad as well as I can and then I rummage around until I find some leaf-covered branches to blot them some.

Everything else is still muddy, including my boots, pants, and jacket. The borrowed coat looks even worse than before, which I hadn’t thought possible.

Obsidian, er, Aleksandr, or whoever, whatever—my head is irretrievably confused. He stands completely still while I saddle him. I really hope the saddle doesn’t bother him on the way back, what with the mud and debris.

And the being a human underneath his horse-shaped suit. If this isn’t a dream, it’s so strange I could never have imagined it as a legitimate reality.

I rinse the bridle in the stream, too, before placing the bit in his mouth and putting it all back together. I do it mostly without thinking, but once I’m finished, I pause to think. I know he’s a person, not a horse. I mean, he is a horse, but he’s not a normal horse. I don’t want to carry the saddle back home several miles, so putting it on him made sense, but should I have bridled him? Can I really ride him?

I probably shouldn’t.

It feels wrong, somehow.

He’s not my pet. He’s a human who’s been cursed. On the other hand, he did mention staying here and racing with me until I’ve earned my money back. That does imply he’s fine with me riding him, doesn’t it?

Why didn’t I think to ask about that part back when he could talk? Now that I’m thinking about how he can’t talk, my head fills with questions I haven’t yet asked.

“What do I call you, now?”

Obsidian tilts his head.

“It feels weird to call you Aleksandr, since I’ve been thinking of you as Obsidian. I mean, you’re back to being a horse.”

He snorts. I can tell he’s trying to say, I’m still me, man or horse.

“Fine, so you’re the same, but it still feels weird. Can I keep calling you Obsidian? If I just start calling you Aleksandr, people will think I’ve lost my mind.”

Obsidian exhales loudly.

I’m taking that as a yes. I pull the coat on and grab his reins. I tug him along behind me as I start the long walk home. I’m sort of jogging to expedite things and also to keep warm, when Obsidian just stops. The reins tighten as I keep moving and he doesn’t.

I glance backward at him. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

He tosses his head back toward the saddle. I didn’t tighten it much, not nearly enough for a rider, but it shouldn’t fall off.

I shift it a bit where it’s skewed and start walking again.

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