Shadows and Light

Chapter Twenty-three

Snort. Stamp.

Aiden looked at the dark horse standing several feet away from him. Sighed. Put the saddle on the ground. Tried to ignore Lyrra’s muffled giggles as she saddled her mare.

“All right, Minstrel,” he said. “One song—a short song— and then we have to go.”

Minstrel, the dark horse, tossed his head.

Aiden took a breath.

Minstrel pricked his ears.

Aiden sang the fifth and sixth verses of the tavern song he’d been singing as “a short song” for the past two mornings. When he got to the chorus, he remembered to give it the same hearty enthusiasm as he would have in a crowded tavern to encourage people to sing along.

Minstrel bobbed his head and made odd little sounds, as if he were trying to find a way to sing along.

Aiden finished the last note, gave Lyrra an irritated look when she grinned at him and applauded, and picked up the saddle.

Minstrel walked over to him, a sure indication there would be no sulking this morning. But as Aiden got Minstrel saddled, he also noticed the horse mouthing the bit a little too thoughtfully, and he decided to do the last four verses of the song tomorrow. If Minstrel somehow figured out he’d been given pieces of a song every morning instead of a whole song...

You couldn’t catch a dark horse that didn’t want to be caught. You couldn’t ride a dark horse that didn’t want to be ridden. And a dark horse that was sulking could rattle a man’s bones instead of giving a smooth, sweet ride.

But, Mother’s mercy, the horse had more passion for music than any wide-eyed apprentice he’d ever worked with. Which was why he’d started calling the horse Minstrel, even though the Fae weren’t in the habit of naming animals. At least with an apprentice, he could smile and decline to indulge the child with a song. He rarely declined, but he could. Minstrel simply kept trotting out of reach, refusing to be saddled until he got his morning song. In a battle of wills, Aiden was quickly learning he was no match for a stubborn dark horse.

Ah, well. As Lyrra had pointed out yesterday, he was used to singing for his supper. Now he just had to sing for the saddling, too.

After checking the girth once more, Aiden mounted. Gathered the reins. Noticed that Minstrel was still mouthing the bit far too thoughtfully.

Then he looked at Lyrra and saw the smile on her lips, the laughter in her eyes. The little comedy he and Minstrel played out every morning had done her more good than decent meals and restful sleep, and for that he felt grateful. By tomorrow, they would reach the western Clans. Once they crossed the boundary that divided those Clans from the rest of the Fae, he didn’t think they’d get much rest.