Pulling Tulpa up short, Trent smiled with half his mouth. Molly stopped as well, and a sudden memory exploded in me, brought forth by the tension, the dappled sun, even the shadowed air drawing goose bumps. He had been lanky and insecure with youth, and I had been awkward and overly confident with the first hints of health, but Tulpa had been the same, and I had been irate that he’d gotten a larger horse than me and I couldn’t keep up.

“What?” he asked, and I put a hand to my cold face.

“Um,” I said, scrambling. “Ceri might be right.”

Molly shifted under me, and Trent reached out. I froze as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing the rim of my hat. “About what?”

My heart was pounding. “That you’d be good at being king of the elves.”

His hand dropped, and I breathed again. Head bowing, he looked at his fingers laced among the reins. “I can be both what I need to be and what I want to be.” But it was soft, and I wasn’t sure he believed it.

“I tried that, and it didn’t work,” I said, the reins slipping through my fingers as Molly stretched to crop at the spindly grass surviving under the shade. “It didn’t work for Batman, either.” Trent didn’t look up, and I blurted, “At least you have something worth fighting for. Trent—”

“I’ve been meaning to ask if you would like to choose a horse from my herd,” he interrupted me. “One who would be designated as yours for when you ride with us. I still owe you a proper Hunt.”

My eyebrows rose, more because of the change of subject than the offer. “We are sitting here in the middle of nowhere waiting to be attacked, and you offer me a horse?”

Tulpa sighed, making Trent shift his seat. “We can talk more about your conversation with Ceri if you like.”

Oh God. No. “Sure. I’d love a horse,” I said, feeling the need to give Molly a pat. “I’m not really into the Hunt, though.” I remembered the sound of the hounds, the heart-stopping fear that they might catch me. Is he nuts?

He nudged Tulpa into motion, and Molly followed. “If you change your mind, let me know. Ceri would love another feminine presence on the field. She says we men lack style in running down prey.”

I’ll bet. “I might just do that,” I said. “If only to get you to stop giving me Molly all the time.”

Trent’s smile warmed me all the way to my center. It was true and honest, and he was smiling at me. Stop it, Rachel. “What’s wrong with Molly?”

“Nothing, but you keep giving me a horse I can’t possibly win with.”