Page 3 of My Queendom for a Horse

I’ve always felt like I understood what my horses felt and what they wanted. I don’t ask them to do anything they aren’t ready for, and I never jump a horse that doesn’t love it. Five Times Fast pulls eagerly toward every fence I point him at. I’ve been riding since before I could walk, thanks to my mom, and I’ve never been thrown, not once. Even when I was a professional jockey for two years, I never came out of my saddle. It earned me a rather irritating nickname.

I glance around at our competitors. There are only six horses in the race with us, for a total of seven, but they’re some of the very best horses in Europe. The excitement is nearly palpable as the race with the biggest purse of the entire weekend approaches. It’s not National Hunt money, but still, 125,000 euros attracts some attention.

Earl Grey, a clever name for the grey gelding next to me, is favored heavily to win. He’s larger than Five Times Fast, but he looks nervous. He didn’t travel far enough to look that nervous—fifty kilometers to our three thousand. His rider’s also a grade A jerk. Jackson Buley doesn’t even make eye contact with me. If I lose today, I really really hope it’s not to him.

Persnickety, a bay gelding to my right, shifts from one hoof to the other repeatedly and his ribs are a little too prominent. They’re working him too hard. I bob my head at his jockey, Natalie Coolie. There aren’t many female jockeys, and it makes me smile that there’s another in the Ladbrokes Chase.I don’t really know her, though. She started a few years after I retired officially to focus on my veterinary practice.

In It To Win It is a nut-brown gelding who was favored to win last year. He’s back this year, and his owner, a twenty-year-old IT millionaire from America, has been emailing me. Odds are against him, but that’s what makes chasing fun. The odds don’t always mean very much. In It To Win It’s sweating a little more than I’d like if he was my mount, but sometimes the nervous sweaters win. I don’t know his jockey, a young man who looks quite dashing in his red silks. I raise my hand and he salutes back.

“Hey Sticky,” a familiar voice behind me says.

I turn to see Finn McGee, resplendent even in his traitorous green and blue silks, walking toward the starting line. He doesn’t like Rickets much more than I do, but he can’t afford to snub the owner of the wealthiest barn in Europe. Finn’s the most successful jockey in Ireland, maybe in the entire UK, but he still has to make a living. I’ve known him for years now, so he doesn’t intimidate me like he used to. I should’ve properly greeted him—I should pay attention to my old friend. But he can’t possibly blame me. I can barely squeak out any words at all.

“Hey, Finn,” I manage to say.

Given the beast he’s leading, he’ll understand my distraction.

His horse is entirely ebony, a stallion I notice, not the typical steeplechase gelding retired from a career on the flat. His coat and mane shine like a reflection on water. His eyes flash. His hooves strike the ground sharply with cracks, like flint on steel.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful horse.

He’s also monstrously tall, a good hand taller than Five Times Fast, and Five’s just above sixteen hands. “What the devil are you riding?”

“Aptly worded question.” He grins. “His papered name is Obsidian Devil. It’ll be our first real ride together. Forrest hates him, and I guess we’ll find out why Rickets is willing to defy the best trainer in the country. He picked him up in Russia, of all places.”

Forrest Smithers is arguably the best trainer in England. If he hates this black beauty, he must have a reason. But he has managed Rickets’ stable for a decade or so, and I know Rickets trusts his opinion—he’d be a fool not to—so it’s strange to hear that they don’t agree on something.

“I always heard vodka was the only good thing to come out of Russia.”

Finn winks at me. “It may still be.”

Obsidian paws the ground and snorts heavily. His mane shimmers, and I want to touch it so badly that my hands practically itch. As though he’s similarly affected, Finn reaches over to pat his neck, but Obsidian snaps at him.

Finn snatches his hand back and shakes his head at me. “I’ve never seen a more ill-mannered horse,” he says, “and that’s saying something. The good news is, I negotiated a bonus that’s actually more like a small fortune in exchange for riding him.”

On impulse, I lean forward and place my free hand on Obsidian Devil’s magnificent muzzle. Even with my riding gloves on, a zing runs through my entire body. Obsidian calms immediately and presses his face gently into my palm.

“He likes you?” Finn rolls his eyes. “Of course he does. Every horse on the planet loves you. It’s so unfair.”

Five tosses his head jealously, and I step back from Finn’s magnificent creature. As soon as I move my hand, Obsidian snaps at Finn again. I can’t help laughing.

“Forrest should be paying you two small fortunes,” I say. “I don’t envy your ride today.”But that’s a complete lie. I want to ride him so badly I could cry.

Five tosses his head again, which is unlike him. If horses could scowl, he’d be scowling at Obsidian. As it is, he’s stuck flaring his nostrils and stamping.

“It’s okay, boy,” I whisper. “He may be beautiful, but you’re gorgeous too, and you’re much better behaved. I still love you the most. Now, make sure you run your heart out today. Mom put all her money on you. I’m utterly doomed if we lose, and that Obsidian is making me very nervous.”

Obsidian’s ears flick my direction while I’m speaking to Five, and I have the most uncomfortable feeling that he’s listening to me. I shake it off. Horses are intuitive, yes, and I believe they understand far more than we give them credit for, but there’s no way he could even hear me whispering from here, much less understand the words I’m using. I scratch underneath Five’s forelock, and he leans his head against me and sighs.

“It’s you and me, Five. We can do this. We have to do this, or I’ll lose the farm.” I snort. “No pressure.”

I’ve just mounted when Sean shows up again.

“You aren’t supposed to be over here,” I hiss. “We’re about to be called up.”

“A win here is temporary,” Sean says. “I can loan you whatever you need and give you real time to repay it.”

“Please go,” I say. “Now.”

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