Page 6 of My Queendom for a Horse

“We divorced,” he says. “Almost five years ago, now.”

Divorced.

How did I not hear about that? I force myself to swallow the lump that’s taken up residence in my throat. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I never should have married her in the first place.”

I grit my teeth. I can’t listen to this. Not right now. Not ever. “I better go collect my winnings and get changed.”

“Kris,” Sean says in the voice he always used when we were alone. The voice that turned my knees weak and made my heart accelerate. “Shortcake.”

He used my nickname. My special nickname. When other people teased me for being short, it made me mad. But Sean turned it into something sweet—literally. We got strawberry shortcake on our first date, and he called me that from then on.

But shockingly, the more I think about it, the more it ticks me off. When you dump someone and marry someone else, you forfeit the right to use their nickname, especially to manipulate them. “I’ll never forgive my dad. This was worse than his gambling.”

“We bumped into each other by mistake, and I’m the one who has been calling him ever since.”

“I won today.” I purse my lips. “Which means I don’t need your help. So thanks for coming, but it was a waste of your time.”

“Nothing that lets me see your face is a waste,” Sean says.

“Stop.” I hold up my hand. “No more.”

“No more?” Sean’s voice sounds nervous. That’s not like him.

I want to turn toward him and see his face, but I can’t. If I do that, I won’t be able to walk away.

And I need to be able to walk away.

“I have to go.” I swing down from Five’s back, pull the wreath Sean brought off, and chuck it at him before I stomp away. Hopefully that monstrously large pile of flowers will slow him down enough that he can’t chase after me.

Now that I’ve dismounted and I’m not staring at Sean, the wheels in my brain begin turning again. I keep coming back to how that huge black stallion threw the race so I could win, and my brain rebels against the thought.

It must have been some kind of stress-induced hallucination. I’ve never had one before, but I’ve heard of ocular migraines, so there must be similar occurrences for hallucinations. Five was always a strong contender, and that huge black beast must have overextended and not had enough energy to push through the finish line.

Before I can go over it in my head again, my dad’s arms fling around me and pull me toward him for a backbreaking hug. I almost drop the reins. He must have finished up the paperwork and run all the way over here to catch me. That’s unlike him.

“You did it, Kris,” he says. “You’re safe, and now you never have to do that again.”

I roll my eyes. “Right Dad, never again.” Except that another balloon payment is due in three months. . .so. Whatever helps him sleep tonight, I guess. The good news is that Five did awesome, and if we can repeat this a few times, we might not lose the farm at all. In fact, if we can get far enough ahead in the next few months, we might be able to convince a local bank to refinance the horrible loan Dad took out to pay stupid Rickets.

“Hey, I’m excited too,” I say. “But I’ve got to cool Five down, so. . .”

“Yes, you do need to go.” Dad finally releases me. “We can’t have him coming up lame.”

“Exactly.”

No matter how many times I go over it in my brain while Five and I walk around the warm-up ring, I keep seeing it play out exactly the same way in my head. Obsidian Devil’s too far ahead for us to catch, pounding his way toward the finish. Then his ear flicks back toward me, his eye meets mine, and he slows.

He slows.

Finn’s whipping him and pulling—because ironically, pulling is really the best way to get them moving—and he slows anyway. I can’t shake the feeling that he threw the race. I firmly believe that a horse threw the race for me.

As if.

I’m going crazy.

I look around for John. The stress from the loan coming due, and from seeing Sean, and from betting all my money and almost losing it must really be getting to me. I whip out my phone and text our trainer. A moment later, our tall, rail-thin trainer’s walking toward me.

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