Page 82 of My Dark Horse Prince

“I’m not supposed to,” I say. “And you all know I haven’t ridden in ten years. Don’t you think, if I can beat Brigita, who’s riding my horse, she should give her back?”

There’s a lot of murmuring.

“A few jumps mean nothing,” Brigita says. “Besides. You aren’t supposed to be riding at all.”

“How about a sanctioned event?” Alvina asks. “The Riga World Cup. If you both compete and she beats you there. . .”

“She can’t even get in,” Brigita says. “She hasn’t ridden in more than ten years! You said it yourself.”

“Surely you could get her in,” Alina says. “It would make the whole thing much more interesting for the rest of us to watch. And we’d be certain that staying at your barn is the right move.” She tilts her head, and I have never liked her more.

“You did say you’re a way better teacher,” little Ludmila says.

I want to kiss her face.

“There’s still nothing in it for me,” Brigita says. “Only a fool gambles something valuable for nothing.”

Kris looks furious. “I’ll be happy to—”

Brigita shakes her head. “I don’t want one of your charity horses.”

“What do you want?” I ask.

“You’ll be riding that horse?” Brigita eyes Charlemagne carefully. “Right?”

I grit my teeth.

“It’s only fair if we both offer our horses,” Brigita says.

“But yours is Mirdza’s horse.” Kris looks ready to punch her.

“Not anymore,” Brigita says. “Like it or not, Blanka’s mine. So if you want a chance at winning her back, I’ll give it to you. I can get you into the competition, but you have to put that big guy at risk to do it.”

I glance back at Charlemagne, who probably has no idea what we’re even talking about. He tosses his head, his eye perfectly steady on mine.

“I’ll be generous,” Brigita says. “I’ll give you an out. If you can’t find a doctor to clear you to ride, I’ll let you out of our deal.” She glances around the room. “See how kind I am?”

“We’ll come up with another way to get Blanka back,” Kris says.

But I know that there isn’t another way. For her, maybe, but my life doesn’t work like that. If I walk away, I’m saying goodbye to Blanka forever, and worse, I’ll be leaving her to the most awful person in Daugavpils.

Charlemagne takes another step and presses his face against my arm. He exhales slowly. When I look down at him, he nods again.

If I wasn’t quite sure he was in, now I am.

“Deal,” I say.

It’s not until I walk back out to the truck, my recently repaired leg trembling from overuse, that I completely lose it. Not only do I have to interact with Charlemagne every single day if I want to have any hope of beating Brigita, but I’ve put his life at risk. A human.

Over losing a horse.

I’m as selfish as Adriana. Maybe worse.

16

I have exactly one way to get out of this, which is why I’m sitting in this miserable place.

Doctor’s offices have never been good for me. Actually, hospitals haven’t been that great, either. I know they’re supposed to heal us, and I know that without medicine, the world would be even nastier, more brutish, and shorter than it already is.

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