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Chapters (23)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter 1
  5. Chapter 2
  6. Chapter 3
  7. Chapter 4
  8. Chapter 5
  9. Chapter 6
  10. Chapter 7
  11. Chapter 8
  12. Chapter 9
  13. Chapter 10
  14. Chapter 11
  15. Chapter 12
  16. Chapter 13
  17. Chapter 14
  18. Chapter 15
  19. Chapter 16
  20. Chapter 17
  21. Chapter 18
  22. Chapter 19
  23. Chapter 20

When she actually moved between two thick, untrimmed hedges, he could hardly believe his good luck. She couldn’t have gotten into a better situation for him to corner her!

Knowing that a horse is averse to backing up, he ran around to the front of the hedges, and struck.

Making a dash out of cover, he grabbed for the reins and the saddle in the same movement, hauling himself into the saddle before she had time to do more than snort. And somehow, before he realized it, he was in the saddle and in control!

For just about a heartbeat.

Because in the next moment, the horse tossed her head, jerking the reins out of his hand, and set off at a gallop, and all he could do was cling desperately to the pommel of the saddle.

Chapter 13

13

ALL Skif could do was hold on, with every aching finger, with knees and thighs, wrists and ankles. If he could have held on with his teeth, he would have. If he could have tied his hair to the saddle, he would have.

He’d lost the stirrups almost at once, shortly after he lost the reins. That didn’t give him a lot of options; either cling on like a burr, or try to jump off. But the mare was going so fast, he knew if he jumped, he’d get hurt.

Badly, badly hurt—

And that was if he was lucky. He’d seen someone who’d been thrown from a galloping horse, once. The poor fool had his back broken. Healers could fix that, he’d been told, if the Healer got to you quickly enough, if you were important enough to see a Healer. He’d seen countless people thrown from runaway wagons, and they always ended up with broken arms and legs. That was bad enough.

She was at the gallop, head down, charging along as if she’d gone mad, pounding down the paved streets, the occasional bystander gawking at them as they tore past. No one tried to stop the runaway horse, and all that Skif could do was hang on tight and trust to the fact that as hot as it was, she’d tire soon. She’d have to tire soon. She was only a horse, just a fancy horse, she couldn’t run forever—

He closed his eyes and crouched over the saddle, gripping her with his thighs and holding onto the pommel of the saddle with all his might. Her mane whipped at his face, it was like being beaten with a fly whisk, and he gasped with every driving blow of her hooves that drove the pommel into his gut. She’d be slowing any moment now.

Any moment now . . .

Oh, please—

He cracked his eye open, and closed it again.