She pulled back on both reins. “Whoa?”
Phaeon stopped so abruptly she nearly pitched forward over his neck. Eliam’s hand shot out to steady her.
“Gently,” he said. “He’s well-trained. You don’t need to haul on his mouth.”
“You could have mentioned that before.”
“How else would you learn?” He moved back to Phaeon’s head. “We’re going to try a trot.”
“We’re absolutely not.”
“We are.” He was already adjusting her posture again, hands on her hips to position them correctly. “It’s actually easier once you find the rhythm.”
“Easier than walking?”
“Different. Post with the motion—rise and fall with his gait.”
Before she could protest further, he made that clicking sound again followed by a command she didn’t catch. Phaeon moved into a trot.
She immediately started bouncing hard in the saddle, her teeth clicking together with each jolt.
“Post!” Eliam called. “Up, down, up, down!”
She tried to rise with the motion, but her timing was completely off. She was coming down when she should be going up, the impacts jarring her spine. Her thighs burned with the effort of trying to grip and lift at the same time.
“I can’t—” she gasped.
Eliam’s hand found her knee, pressing in rhythm. “Up… down… up… down…”
She tried to follow his guidance, and suddenly—for just a moment—she found it. The rhythm clicked, and she was moving with Phaeon instead of against him.
Then she lost it again and bounced hard enough to bite her tongue.
“Ow!”
Eliam brought Phaeon back to a walk with a word. “You found it for a moment.”
“Before I lost it again.” She could taste blood in her mouth.
“That’s how learning works.” He stopped Phaeon completely and moved to help her dismount. “Swing your right leg over.”
She did, but when she tried to lower herself down, her legs had turned to jelly. She would have collapsed if Eliam hadn’t caught her, pulling her against his chest.
“My legs don’t work,” she said against his shoulder.
“They will.” His arms stayed around her, supporting her weight. “You used muscles you’ve never used before.”
“I may never walk again.”
“Dramatic.” But his hand rubbed her lower back where the muscles had seized. “You did well for a first lesson.”
“I barely managed a trot.”
“You stayed on.” He pulled back enough to look at her face. “That’s more than most manage their first time.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.” His thumb brushed across her cheekbone. “You were determined. Even terrified, you kept trying.”
