Page 87 of My Queendom for a Horse

“Who’s they?” I hate this new Aleks. I miss the one who was a ball of never-ending questions.

“Love and hate aren’t opposites.” His voice drops just a hair. “There’s only a razor-thin line between them.”

“Well then I must practically love you,” I say. “Because I can’t think of anyone I hate more.”

17

Aleksandr finally leaves, but when he does, he’s smiling. Something about me saying I hated him made him happy. At least one thing hasn’t changed.

He’s still insane.

By the time I wake up, Sean’s left me a few text messages. My truck is in the parking lot, and he left the keys with the front desk. He went by to check on Obsidian, but the attendants told him that they hadn’t seen me and they had strict orders to leave his stall entirely alone.

The orders were from a crazy, rich Russian man.

Which means Aleksandr bribed them.

I wish it didn’t, but it makes me like him more. He paid the grooms at Kempton Park to let me sleep in after I drank too much. If that’s not a man worth his weight in gold, I don’t know what is.

Even so, when I arrive, I’m irrationally angry with him again. He tries to talk to me about last night now that I’m totally sober, but it makes me feel twitchy and terse.

“Sean’s a nice guy,” Aleks finally admits.

I almost take the bait, but I can sense there’s something more coming.

“Don’t you think so?” He quirks one eyebrow.

“I think that you’re trying to trick me,” I say. “And I think that we need everyone around here to see Obsidian soon, or they’re going to start to wonder whether he’s real.”

Aleksandr circles the stall toward me.

I back up just as fast.

“We still have some things to talk about,” he says.

I notice shavings in his hair. That makes me think about him sleeping in here all night long, as a human. Instead of staying with me like I asked him to. . . And then I feel angry.

A masking emotion.

That makes me even more angry.

So the second he gets close enough, I change him. At this rate, even with his secret bag, he’s not going to have any clothes left for very long. It’s a good thing I changed him, though, because seconds later, Sean’s tapping on the stall wall. “Kris? I brought breakfast.”

I don’t groan. I’m happy to see him.

“Let me get the halter on Obsidian first.” And kick his shredded clothing into the corner, under shavings.

“Is everything okay? Is that demon acting up?”

Obsidian’s pawing at the ground, agitated either by the sound of Sean’s voice or by my quick change.

“Time to show them all what you’ve got,” I whisper. Then I slide the halter over his nose and buckle it in place. “No more fits, alright? And no kicking or biting Sean, either.”

“You’re still talking to him like he understands you?” The smirk on Sean’s face annoys me.

“Sometimes,” I admit.

Obsidian Devil bumps me and slides his face right alongside mine, nuzzling my neck. With any other horse—with Five, for instance—I’d think it was cute. I’d probably grin and rub his nose.

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