Blood-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book I ]

1

Together, the children faced the long line of stalls. The emperor had a magnificent stable, and in their eyes the stalls seemed to stretch on forever. Koreti reached out. Mhera grasped his hand, and together they began to walk down the cobbled hall between the enclosures. Most of the doors were shut fast, but they were built in a slatted fashion that permitted the children to peer in. They saw a huge bay gelding chewing at his oats, a dozing gray mare with long, dark lashes, and a little foal with a fuzzy mane.

"Uncle will give me that pony," Mhera whispered to Koreti.

"That little thing?" The prince cocked his head doubtfully. "It's just a baby."

Mhera frowned. "The gray one, then."

"That's Mother's horse. Anyway, I'm older, so I'll get a horse before you."

"Well ... no," Mhera said, although she had no argument prepared for this very valid point. She puzzled over a counterargument for a while as they progressed down the length of the stable, but soon became distracted by the discussion about which of the emperor's prize horses might be set aside for each of them, even if Koreti, by the unfair law of age, might get his first.

They stopped at last before the stall of a magnificent white stallion. He had his flank toward them and his head lowered. As they approached, he was snuffing at the hay on the ground. A broad beam of light fell from the open window above him and in it, his pearly coat seemed to glow.

"That's my horse," Koreti said, peering wide-eyed into the stall. "Look at him, Mher! I bet I could ride him."

Mhera knew her cousin took lessons in riding. He took lessons in everything she was not yet old enough to study, and some things she never would, like swordplay. But something about this particular horse made her doubt him. "I don't think so, Kore."

"Bet I could." He grasped the slatted door of the stall and pressed his forehead against the slats, looking at the majestic beast. "Even without a saddle."

Mhera was only seven years old, but she understood by some instinct that his proposal was more dangerous than wise by a wide margin. "You don't want to, do you?"

"I'm going to." Koreti put his foot on the lowest slat and began to pull himself up without delay.

"Wait—Koreti, I don't think you should." Mhera reached out and grasped his tunic, but he grinned down at her and brushed her hand aside. He put a finger to his lips to indicate that she should be silent, then scaled the door of the stall with two easy movements of his long, strong limbs. Before she knew it, Mhera was looking at Koreti's back between the slats of the stall. His tunic was banded with shadow where the light coming in from outside was sliced by a thick wooden beam.

The stallion had turned his head, and his brown glass eye was taking Koreti's measure. His nostrils flared open. One gray hoof slid back through the straw. Mhera felt a sudden pang of fear.

Then she heard a footstep. She turned and looked up to see the stable master, Callin. His blue eyes snapped as he scowled down at her. "What do you think you're doing in here, my lady?"

She felt a flood of shame and confusion rise with the hot blood in her cheeks and, without thinking, she looked over her shoulder, betraying her cousin with the glance. The stable master looked up to see Koreti standing in the stallion's stall. The horse had turned slightly toward the boy. He flicked his brilliant white tail and, once again, dragged a hoof back through the straw.

"Prince Koreti, if you know what's good for you, you'll get on outta there right this minute," Callin said. His voice was measured, but Mhera heard an undercurrent of fear in it. "That stallion'll as soon bite your hand off as draw a breath."

Callin laid a gnarled hand on Mhera's shoulder and pushed her aside, stepping forward to unlatch the gate. He eased it open. The hinges whined.

Koreti was staring at the horse's ears, which had dropped back. The creature's eyes rolled toward the prince, who now appeared to feel that he may have made a small error in judgment. "I was just going to see him, Callin," he said without turning his head. He had put his hands up as if to impress upon the stallion that he meant no harm.

"Just back out easy now, Your Highness."

After another moment of apparent indecision, Koreti did.

Once the gate was securely fastened again, Callin eyed the two children. Mhera noticed with uncomfortable clarity that her pale blue dress was torn at the hem and soiled. She knew she would be sternly dealt with upon her return to her chamber, but more important at that particular moment was how shabby she felt, how small and unkempt and undisciplined. She hung her head.

Koreti, for his part, was staring openly back through the gate at the horse, still fascinated. He did not seem to feel any shame.

"Now, 'tain't that I'm not honored to see you, children," the stable master said, "but it's dangerous in here, and I think you know that. Make me a promise, and I shan't breathe a word of this to anyone."

"Not even Madam Gella?" Mhera asked fearfully. A vision of her black-clad governess glowering down her uncommonly long nose filled her mind.

Callin shook his head gravely, as if making a serious decision—one that could cost him dearly, were it discovered. "Not even to Madam Gella will I breathe a word of it. Only promise you won't come back around without me or one of the seniors of my staff. Sneakin' about like two lizards is likely to get you killed—aye, and me, too, for what d'you think'll happen to the hostler who lets his own prince and lady be trampled? I'd rather meet the rebel queen and her army than kneel before the emperor having let one o' you come to harm."

Mhera was deeply impressed by this. The thought of her uncle compared to the legendary Rhodana, who drank babies' blood and set fire to the Goddess Zanara's holy temples, set her heart atremble. She glanced at Koreti and saw a solemn frown on his face that betrayed his own thoughts.

"Well?"

"I promise," they said in unison.

Koreti continued, "I'm sorry, sir. It was my fault. I won't put Lady Mhera in danger again."

"That's a good lad," Callin said. Then, as if remembering to whom he spoke, he added, "Your Highness."

Mhera did receive a tongue-lashing for the state of her dress. But, to her knowledge, Callin kept her secret all his life. And on that day, Koreti was spared the consequences of his impulsive nature.