He led me along a dirt path that curled around the castle. It sloped upward toward a large barn lined with wide square doors that split across the middle. Several were open, revealing the black heads of massive warhorses. At the main entrance, two wooden doors had been pinned open.

Horses stood secured to metal loops in the barn walls as stable hands brushed them or else swept the main walkway clear of hay and horsehair. Ericen traced a path through the horses, taking us much closer to their back hooves than I’d have liked, but he seemed as comfortable around them as I’d been with the crows.

We stopped outside one of the stalls, where a horse had her head poking out toward us. Beside her, a tiny foal trembled on uncertain legs, its coat black as night.

“My stallion’s the sire.” He nodded at another stall, the name Callo carved into the wood.

I grinned. “It’s adorable.”

Ericen leaned against the stall door. “Wonderful, I’ll tell the stable master. I’m sure he’ll appreciate knowing his newest warhorse is adorable.” He ran his hand along the mother’s neck in an almost reverent touch.

I snorted. “Did you think a cute animal would make me forgive you?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

“A little bit.”

The foal wobbled toward us, and I reached out, but Ericen seized my hand. I started to snap at him but caught sight of the mare’s dark eyes watching me keenly.

“The mothers can be very…protective.” He released my hand.

I stepped back, then again as a stable hand with a bucket of feed moved toward us.

“Pardon me, Your Highnesses,” she said.

Ericen moved aside as the girl lifted the bucket over the edge of the stall and onto a hook on the other side.

My mouth fell open. “Is that meat?”

“They have a big appetite.” He grinned, but it quickly faded, the lines of his face hardening. Something molten gleamed in his eyes, and I followed his gaze as Shearen entered the barn and disappeared into a stall.

“Not that I wouldn’t like to pummel the guy myself, but is there something between you two?” I asked.

Ericen blinked. He’d been staring hard enough to bore holes. “We just don’t get along.”

“The truest hate is born from the truest love,” I said softly. A Trendellan proverb Caliza’s husband had taught me. The relationship between Shearen and Ericen, the emotion I saw in each of their faces, it didn’t just manifest overnight.

Ericen’s expression hardened. “We were like brothers at Darkward. Almost through our fifteenth year, we were inseparable.”

“What happened?” I asked.