The stranger rises to his feet, and I see the familiar outline of Lincoln: broad shoulders, earthy-brown hair, and military bearing. My stomach twists. With his back to me, he scans a shelf of jars at the far wall. Nodding, he pulls out a white container. He crouches on his heels, leaning over something in the last stall.

I step closer. Nightshade brushes her muzzle against Lincoln’s back. Reaching behind him, the Prince absently pats the horse’s cheek. “I know you’re there, Night. I’m happy to see you too.”

I freeze in place. Nightshade is Lincoln’s horse? My mouth starts talking on its own. “Hi, there.”

Lincoln rises to his feet. “Oh, hello.” He stands straight and alert, his black body armor open at the neck. Candlelight casts shadows on his full mouth and scooped-out cheeks.

“I’m here for Nightshade.”

The horse leans her blue-gray head toward Lincoln. “She knows. We’ve been saying good-bye.”

“Is she your horse?”

“One of them. The House of Striga breeds them; I raised her from a foal. Every Striga horse is enchanted, but Night takes it to a new level.”

I smile. “I know, she keeps me on her back without a saddle. I don’t even have to ask, she takes me where I need to go. Or she’s waiting for me when I get there. I think she does magic.” Night turns to me, her black marble-eyes blinking in a way that says ‘no kidding.’

Lincoln runs his fingers down her mane. “The House of Striga specializes in witchcraft. Nightshade casts spells for everything you described. She also has the power to make small things appear and disappear. Oh, and she loves to send fireballs at enemies during battle.” The horse whinnies; Lincoln grins. “We’ve gotten out of some close scrapes that way.”

“Look, I never would’ve asked for her if I knew–”

“It was a fair request. You fought well today.” He rubs Nightshade’s neck in long strokes. “My mother comes from the House of Gurith. It’s a lesser house, but one of the few that allow women warriors. She’s wanted a female tournament champion for years. You’ve made her very happy.” He sighs. “Besides, Nightshade chose you, didn’t she?”

“Yes. At the Ryder stables.”

“I rode her there to meet the minister. Normally, she comes back on her own.” Night tosses her head and snorts. “I don’t take it personally, girl.”

Reaching into his pocket, Lincoln pulls out a few small biscuits. Nightshade eats them from his outstretched hand. I watch him closely, my forehead knit in confusion. Is this the same guy who insulted quasis and yelled at me in the Ryder library?

Lincoln gently strokes Night’s forehead. “I’ve never seen anyone fight the way you did today. Your eyes turned red.”