Page 27 of My Queendom for a Horse

“You only say that because you haven’t seen how that man looks at you. He’s not trustworthy, and—”

“Aleksandr Volkonsky.”

He freezes, becoming suddenly serious.

“I need to shower and get changed.” If I’m firm, he’ll have to agree. He’s out of place and totally backward for this time, and until an hour ago, he was a horse. If it comes to it, I’ll just change him back. Then he’ll have to stay put.

He stalks toward me, and I circle the main area in the barn, backing away from him until I bump up against the wooden barn wall. He looms over me, his gaze intent, his eyes dropping from my eyes to my mouth. “Now that I’m in human form, we can both shower and change into something better.” He spares a disapproving glance for the clothing I tossed him.

“I don’t have anything better than that for you right now, and—”

He presses a long, strong finger to my lips, and I freeze. My heart hammers against my chest. Every part of my body focuses in on that one spot. I can barely drag in a breath.

“Kristiana, you’re currently the only person on earth who can control my shape, and until I ensure the curse is broken and I’ve regained my magic—”

His magic? I mean, what else would he call shape-shifting, I guess?

“—you will not leave my side.”

I’ve always been quite small, but I’ve never felt it as keenly as I do in this moment. He could pick me up and carry me out of here, and he does need to learn about the world. It’s changed a lot in the last hundred years. I just wish he’d be a little more patient.

Then again, patience doesn’t look like his long suit.

As a horse trainer, I know one thing. Horses are larger than me. Much larger. They’re also stronger. There’s absolutely no way, if they start pulling on a halter, for instance, that I can beat them. So getting into a pulling match with them is a terrible idea. It just teaches them that they can beat me. When I’m lunging a recalcitrant horse, the way I win is to give, just a little, but keep them on the line so they’re turning and moving when I say. I never get into a pulling match I can’t win. This is starting to feel like that.

“Fine,” I say, giving just a little. “You can come today, but you only speak Russian, and you will not interfere in any way. Not with the conversation, not with any deal we strike.” I lift my eyebrows as if I’m not afraid of him. “And this time, I need your word, not just a snort you’ll later dismiss.”

“I need to keep you safe, so I won’t promise not to interfere with anything.” His self-satisfied smirk irritates me, badly.

I duck under his arm and march toward the exit.

Unfortunately, he follows me. Barefoot. Other than the fact that he’s built like a Greek god, he looks and smells homeless. “We’ll both be sneaking through the back door of my house, and you have to shower and wear some of my brother’s old clothes. They aren’t exactly fashionable, but at least they won’t be filthy or moth-eaten.”

“Agreed.” He doesn’t ask about Gustav, and I’m relieved. I love my brother, but I don’t like talking about him. It’s too complicated.

In fact, he doesn’t say a word as we sneak into the back of my home. He’s so quiet that when I dart through the back door and shoot up the stairs to my room, I have to glance back a few times to make sure he’s still following me.

And when I shoot through my door and into my bathroom, he’s still on my heels. So when my dad calls my name. . .

I yank the bathroom door shut and lock it.

“You haven’t showered yet?” Dad asks. From my bedroom. His hand rattles the knob.

Aleks and I barely fit in the standing space in my tiny bathroom. His back’s pressed up against the shower glass, and I’m standing right in front of the door. “Not yet,” I say.

“Well, let me in so I’m not talking to a door.”

I wince a bit as I reach past Aleksandr and through the shower door. It’s hard, but I manage not to touch him at all in the process. I flip the knobs and water starts to pour out. “Sorry. Already getting in the shower.”

“What took you so long?”

I twist and suck in my breath to sneak back past Aleksandr and into my spot in front of the door. For some reason, the pains I’m taking to avoid touching him are making him smirk. “I left Obsidian in the pasture behind the old barn. I think to keep him calm, we’ll leave him out there for a while.”

“Won’t he be agitated since he’s all alone?” Dad asks.

“He’s a strange horse,” I say. “I don’t think he loves other horses much.”

Aleksandr frowns, but he can suck it. He is strange.

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