Page 92 of My Queendom for a Horse

That’s when I realize I don’t have his bag—which is probably still in his new car—and if I change him now, he’ll be standing there naked. Aside from the fact that he’ll be awfully cold, I don’t think it’s a great idea for me either.

“I’m going to change you right now,” I say.

Most people call it smiling when a horse throws its top lip up, baring its teeth. Some of them do it after getting molasses treats. It’s definitely a funny image, and I get why they call it that.

But until that moment, I didn’t know what a horse really looked like when it was smiling. It’s like his whole body shivers, and his lips shake, and he looks undeniably pleased.

“You need clothes, first,” I say reasonably.

He paws at the corner of the stall, and I shake my head. “Those are shredded.”

But he’s not unearthing his destroyed clothes. He’s unburying his car key. I snatch it and dash past a surprised John and my dad.

“Where are you going?” John asks.

“And how’d you get him to stop flipping out?” Dad chases after me for a moment, but since he’s pretty out of shape, I’m not surprised when he stops well before the parking lot.

It allows me to snag Aleksandr’s bag without much trouble, and I have the whole walk back to think up some kind of plausible story.

“I’m going to need you both to leave,” I say. “The thing is, Aleksandr has a strange way of doing things, and he didn’t want you to know he was coming. He’s meeting with some people, and he’ll be leaving us soon. But he’s also found a buyer for Obsidian. The whole thing could be wrapped up quickly.”

I don’t mention the offer on the farm. Hopefully, by tomorrow, we won’t need it.

“Okay,” John says.

“Why didn’t you do this before?” Dad asks.

“It’s a long story,” I say. “But I need you two to buy some things. Strange things. Aleksandr says that when Obsidian really has a bad day, the only thing that works to calm him down is a couple of beers.”

John and my dad exchange glances.

“And you know the treats I used to make? Those help, too.” I’ve done some web searching, and I discovered that the ingredients for some homemade horse treats I learned at camp two decades back will be difficult to locate in the UK. Tracking the ingredients down should actually take them most of the day, given that it’s Christmas Day and most places are closed.

Once I explain what I’m planning, they both calm down. My request that they spend the day traipsing halfway across London to find an imported variety of beer doesn’t seem strange to them, apparently. Probably because they’re horse people. That’s kind of our thing—strange requests to mollify uber-expensive animals that are no longer necessary for anything essential, but that we love beyond all reason.

Once they leave, I gird up my logic and reason and prepare to duel with Aleksandr Volkonsky. I’m going to have to change him eventually. It may as well be quickly, right now, before I leave for another dinner at Sean’s mansion.

I duck into the stall and observe my ancient magician. He’s standing totally still, and if a horse could make puppy eyes, well, he’d be making them. “Don’t give me that. I don’t believe it for a nanosecond.” I arch one eyebrow. “I’m going to make you human for five minutes, and then you go right back. Don’t even think about following me to Sean’s house again.”

He snorts.

“Is that a yes?” I glare. “Bob your head, or I’m going right back out this door.”

He exhales. And then he bobs his head.

“Fine. Now, behave when I change you, and don’t make me regret this.”

I walk toward him and place my hand on his neck. “I want you to be human again,” I say simply.

It still amazes me that it’s all it takes. Obviously it’s because it’s really his power, not mine, and I’m just somehow able to release what he can already do. Even so, it’s miraculous.

Which is why I watch for too long and end up with an eyeful.

It’s not because I wanted to see anything.

I turn away too late, but at least I’m quick about it when I do.

“You don’t have to turn around,” he says boldly. “I’m not shy.”

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