Page 19 of This Dark Descent
Reid looked her over, and Mikira tensed beneath the intensity of his bright blue gaze. Then he was off down the aisle, leaving her feeling strangely cold.
Shaking the feeling away, she followed him to the stall of a beautiful black mare. She was about sixteen hands and had a single white sock on her left hind leg, as if the dark had tried to swallow up the light. A silver plaque on the stall door readEILORA’S FLIGHT.
Reid haltered her, falling into a routine that betrayed his familiarity with horses. Eilora let him work without concern, her posture relaxed in a way that suggested a docility charm. It was a line of enchants often sold to parents of young riders who wanted a safe horse to learn on.
By the time Reid had finished tacking her up, Mikira was flat-out staring.
“You have a way with horses,” she said begrudgingly. “And here I thought they’d run away screaming.”
Reid peered out from around Eilora’s hindquarters. “I like animals. It’s people I can’t stand.” He gave her a pointed look.
She rolled her eyes as he undid Eilora’s halter and slipped it from beneath the bridle. Damien had said that Reid did a little of everything for him, and apparently that stretched from science experiments to racing to being a thorn in her side.
A short walk later, Mikira was standing on the track before the racing gate clasping Eilora’s reins. The other House Adair jockeys had relocated to a second track nearby, and Mikira’s attention lingered longingly on them. They were what she’d always wanted to be: normal riders running normal races on the finest enchants in the kingdom. They split their winnings with their sponsored house, but with how lucrative betting was at the official tracks, the purses were ten times what she won in the tunnels with Jenest.
“Any day now,” Reid remarked. He stood on the bottom rung of thefence surrounding the track, eating an apple he’d filched from the barn. The cat had taken up residence in a patch of sun on the fence.
She eyed the narrow stall she was supposed to walk the horse into with a frown, before swinging up into the saddle. Eilora shifted beneath her, and Mikira gathered the reins, whispering gently to her.
“Direct her into the stall,” Reid instructed. “I won’t shut the gate behind you the first time.”
“Doesn’t the gate crew usually do this part?” she asked.
“Do I look like an assistant starter?”
“You look like a dissatisfied woman just threw you out of her bed.” Mikira ignored his scowl and slid her boots into the high stirrups, squeezing her knees gently against Eilora’s sides. The horse had a slow, loping gait that hinted at her age.
“What’s the point of this anyway?” she asked. “The Illinir races don’t start with a gate.” The last Illinir had been ten years ago when she was seven, but she remembered the races taking place all over the city, from beside the hilly Greenwark District to along the Traveler’s Road.
“The final race does,” Reid replied. “And the point is I want to time you.” He plucked a pocket watch from his pants, and a flutter of nerves buzzed through her. Surely Reid would report everything he observed back to Damien. Would he retract his offer if she wasn’t up to par? He had something depending on this too, after all.
Wrangling her doubts into submission, she guided Eilora into the stall. The mare entered almost of her own accord, clearly comfortable with the process.
“On one,” Reid called. “Three, two—”
The horn sounded and the gate fell open. Eilora burst forward before Mikira was ready. She cursed, but her instincts took over, and she clung tight with her knees, taking her weight off Eilora’s back. She kept a firm grip on the reins and leaned low over the horse’s neck.
The wind buffeted her braid, tearing red strands free to whip about herface. Eilora soared along the track, keeping close to the inner fence. As her heart calmed from the sudden start—something she intended tothankReid for later—Mikira settled into the ride.
It’d been so long since she’d raced in open air like this, the way she’d once done alongside her brother and Talyana. She loved the feel of the wind in her hair, loved the sound of thudding hooves against the dirt, loved the knowledge of the sheer strength and power of the majestic beast beneath her.
It felt like flying.
All too soon, they reached the end of the course, and Mikira slowed Eilora to a trot as they approached the starting gate. They were both panting heavily, sweat streaking hair and skin, and Mikira had a grin plastered across her face.
That had been amazing. She had to do it again. She had to go faster. She—something struck her in the chest, and she pulled back reflexively, nearly toppling off Eilora. The horse whinnied as she jerked the reins, taking several quick steps back.
By the time Mikira regained her seat and control of the horse, Reid had stepped onto the racetrack.
“What the four hells just—” She stopped, spotting the apple core where it lay on the ground. She swung off the horse, boots driving into the dirt, and stalked up to Reid.
“What is your problem?” She jabbed her finger into his chest. “You could have gotten me hurt, or Eilora!”
Reid didn’t back down, and for the first time she was struck by how much he towered over her. She was short, but he was taller than average, and had a way of looking down at her that made her want to break his nose.
“The Illinir isn’t some jaunt around a track,” he snapped. “It’s four cross-country races through enchanted terrain with the city’s most dangerous criminals dressed up as jockeys. You can’t lose yourself to the ride like that, or come the race, it won’t be an apple hitting you in the chest!”
“It was a practice race! Hells, it wasn’t even a race. It was aride.”
