My horse neighs as I approach his stall. Rocinante is a stallion, tall and proud. He throws his ivory mane and stamps his hoof against the ground. Always ready to run, this one. His light gray coat gleams, nearly white. The groom must have just brushed him.

“Hello, my sweet.” I raise my hand to pet the short, bristly hair between his eyes. He angles his snout to sniff my hand, huffing out a discontented protest when he realizes it is absent of the apple with which I usually greet him.

“My sincerest apologies.” He nuzzles me, the soft skin of his nose bringing a smile to my face. It is impossible to be upset in the presence of a good-natured beast. Of this, I am certain. My worries don’t exactly fade, but for the moment, at least, they subside. I rest my forehead against Rocinante’s cheek, lips ticking upward as he moves his lips against my hair, wondering perhaps if that is where I have hidden his apple.

An impatient whinny rises from the stall beside his. I turn my head to meet the dark brown eyes of Ana’s horse, Tornado. Those eyes are nearly as dark as his midnight-black coat, interrupted only by a single white blaze on his face. Standing next to Rocinante—as light as Tornado is dark—they make a beautiful pair. Neighing, Tornado paws at the ground, as if to ask, Where is my mistress?

No apple. No Ana. I have disrupted their entire routine.

“It’ll only be me and Rocinante going out today, I’m afraid.”

Tornado tosses his head before turning away and lifting his tail. He defecates. Well, I suppose that’s how he feels about that.

“Your father was right. You do have a deft hand with the horses.”

The sound of that voice makes me start, which in turn, makes Rocinante start. He knocks his heavy head against mine as we both catch sight of the intruder.

Sebastian stands in the open doorway, riding gloves in hand, the sun haloing his golden hair. He smiles at me, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

And just like that, my plans to saddle up Rocinante and gallop until I felt only the wind in my hair dissipate. I rest my hand against Rocinante’s shoulder, calming him. “What are you doing here?”

If my rudeness bothers Sebastian, he does not show it.

The heels of his riding boots click over the stone of the stable floor as he approaches me. My muscles tense entirely of their own volition. He pauses a few feet away, brow furrowing.

“Are you all right?”