Page 91 of My Queendom for a Horse

Sean might.

“Do you have any enemies?”

Rickets comes to mind immediately. If he keeps tabs on my dad, he might even have noticed that our land went up for sale. I’m sure he’d be delighted to lord it over my dad that he impoverished him. He might even put up a mansion a hundred yards from our house to rub Dad’s face in it.

Ugh.

“I mean, not really,” I lie.

I have no idea what to do about it.

It’s probably Sean, right? He’s the only person I know with money who might actually want to buy it.

“I’ll forward the offer along to you for your review. The terms say you have seventy-two hours to decide.”

“But it’s Christmas. Surely it’s seventy-two hours from, say, New Year’s Day.”

“It’s all very strange, but I think you should strongly consider it. That’s a lot of money, and the earnest money isn’t bad, either. It’s also not a contingent offer, which means if they, for some reason, can’t come up with financing for the sales price, you can keep the deposit.”

“Isn’t that usually only a stipulation someone who knew they were good for the money would agree to?”

“Usually, yes.”

I hang up.

And then I stand utterly still, staring at my shiny black boots until Obsidian bumps my hand.

I nearly drop my phone.

“Careful,” I snap. “It’s been a very weird day, and it only seems to be getting stranger.”

The forecast called for a sunny, albeit cold, and clear weekend. While we’re breezing the track, it starts to drizzle, and for some reason, I’m not even surprised.

18

Obsidian Devil lives up to his name, acting up badly when I refuse to turn him after our workout.

“I know you want to be human, but when I change you, you do things I can’t deal with right now.”

I think about how he carried me to my room. How he brushed my hair back gently. And how he made my heart flutter and my stomach flip flop.

That’s the real reason I can’t change him. It confuses me.

But his tantrum has my dad and John both worried.

“Do you think he’ll injure his legs?” My dad’s eyes are wide. “I’ve never heard him kick the stall that much. I’m worried he might break the wood.”

“Sean said Aleksandr’s here somewhere,” John says. “Maybe he can calm him down.”

I stifle my laugh.

“If we can’t calm him down, we may need to sedate him,” Dad says. “If we don’t, he really might hurt himself.”

He’s taken to throwing himself against the wall of the stall, and the grooms are looking at us sideways. I know the truth—even if he hurts himself, he can heal any injury that will heal on its own with time. Hopefully the moron won’t do any real damage.

He’s not a real horse, and therefore he has a little more sense, but I guess with men there’s no way to know for sure. “Give me a moment.”

When I duck back into the stall, he’s waiting expectantly.

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