Page 68 of My Queendom for a Horse

“What’s wrong, John?” I force the words out and make myself focus on them.

John’s eyes shift—worry replacing disapproval. “It’s Five.”

My heart sinks. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” he says. “He must have done something in his stall, because he’s dead lame on his front left. Luckily, I know a great vet.”

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Dad jokes sometimes that the only reason we can afford to breed and race horses is that I’m a vet. His point is that, it’s not the horses that ruin you. It’s paying for their care and treatment. It simultaneously pokes fun at both horse people and vets.

Dad likes jokes. Especially ones that make fun of me. Or horses.

The reality is that even vets can’t really afford the idiocy of horses. No one can. But in this case, being lame isn’t Five’s fault. He didn’t do anything stupid or goofy.

“You poor guy.” I pat his neck. “Hopefully it’ll blow in the next day or so."

“You think?” John asks. “Because—”

“Oh, there’s no way he’ll be able to race in a week,” I say. “I wonder if we could transfer his entry fee.”

“To whom?” John frowns. “I paid for him and the demon already.”

“Isn’t his name Obsidian Devil?” Aleks uses a very stilted, very irritating Russian accent when he speaks English around John. It’s painful.

“I’m sorry, why do you care what I call him?” John asks. “He’s a pain in the rear end, just like you. So, a demon.”

“I was thinking,” I interject forcefully, “that maybe we could try entering About Face in the hurdle.” Five Times Fast’s little brother isn’t quite as promising as he was, but he’s talented. He might win us a little prize money, and then Obsidian won’t have to travel alone. He and I know that he won’t act strangely traveling without another horse, but no one else will understand. We may as well take another horse that might actually serve a purpose.

“I can call in the morning and check,” John says. “But who would ride him?”

“I can ride both,” I say. “Different times.”

“Duh,” John says. “And I should’ve realized it was just an abscess, too.”

“It’s been a long few weeks,” I say. “You probably need some time off.”

“Says the woman who’s forcing me to take a work trip during Christmas.”

John loves Christmas. It’s a popular holiday in Latvia—though we call it Ziemassvetki, which roughly translates to something a little closer to winter holiday or something along those lines. But we hang ornaments on trees, and we put little nativity scenes out everywhere. If our gifts aren’t as involved or as extravagant as in the United States, or even in most of Europe, well, Latvia hasn’t ever been a terribly affluent nation. We focus a little more on the religious components.

Even so, I wasn’t shocked by the British celebrations when I was there for school. They weren’t too different from my own. At least we celebrate the same day—not January seventh like the Russians do.

“You should go home,” I say. “We can drop you off on our way, and I’m sure Dad and I can manage without you for one hunt. In fact, Sean might be able to loan me a guy or two to help—”

“John’s too important,” Aleks says.

My jaw nearly dangles open. Is he really saying that he wants John to come with us?

“Not need men from Sean,” Aleks says again.

His fake broken English is really bad. We may need to practice it. I understand the importance of slowly weaning him into understanding our conversations—after all, if we keep lying, the odds of us being caught just grow—but he needs to learn to be more convincing. He sounds like he’s auditioning to play the role of a mob boss.

“For once, I agree with him.” John’s lip curls. “I hate that.”

“Your family would love to see you,” I say.

“And if I think you can spare me, I’ll head out to say hello after the race. I’m definitely not leaving you with just this guy to help manage the big black crazy.”

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