The warmth in her chest pulsed, responding to his approval, and she felt heat rise in her cheeks that had nothing to do with exertion.
“Tomorrow we’ll work on your seat,” he said, and there was something in his tone that made the innocent statement sound like anything but.
“My seat is fine,” she said, then realized what she’d said. “I mean—”
“I know what you meant.” His lips curved in that way that meant he was highly amused. “But your riding seat needs work. You’re too stiff.”
“Because I was terrified.”
“Among other reasons.” His hands shifted to her hips, thumbs pressing into the sore muscles there. “You’ll be sore tomorrow.”
“I’m sore now.”
“It will be worse tomorrow,” he promised. “But we’ll continue anyway. By the time we leave for the Wildwood, you’ll be competent enough to not fall off at a walk.”
“Such high praise.”
“Would you prefer I lie and say you’re a natural?”
“Maybe?”
“You’re terrible,” he said bluntly. “But you’re stubborn enough to get better.”
Despite everything, she found herself laughing. “That might be the worst compliment I’ve ever received.”
“It wasn’t a compliment. It was an observation.” His hands stayed on her hips, supporting her until her legs steadied. “Tomorrow, same time. Don’t be late.”
“What if I can’t walk by then?”
“Then I’ll carry you to the horse.” His tone suggested this wasn’t a joke. “You’re learning whether your legs cooperate or not.”
She groaned. “You’re a tyrant.”
“Yes.” He guided her toward the archway leading back inside, his hand firm on her lower back. “And tomorrow, you’ll be a slightly less terrible rider because of it.”
Phaeon nickered behind them, and Briar could have sworn it sounded like laughter.
“Even the horse thinks I’m hopeless,” she muttered.
“The horse has good instincts.” Eliam steered her through the doorway, out of the cold. “But he’ll tolerate you anyway.”
“How generous of him.”
“It is, actually. I was told that Phaeon doesn’t suffer fools.” He glanced down at her, and there was something almost like amusement in his expression. “You should be flattered he didn’t throw you.”
“There is always tomorrow,” she pointed out.
"True," he agreed. "And tomorrow's lesson will be worse."
And somehow, despite the threat in those words, despite her aching legs and the terror of being on horseback, she found herself looking forward to it. Even if it meant she’d probably end up face-first in the snow.
Chapter twenty-seven
Briar's legs trembled with each step back toward the residence, muscles she'd forgotten existed screaming in protest. The second day of lessons had gone better—she'd managed to stay on during a canter for almost a full circuit of the courtyard before losing her balance. Progress, but hardly mastery. In two days, she'd gone from complete terror to merely moderate fear, which would have to be enough.
Eliam had stayed behind to return Phaeon to the stables and speak with Thaine about route preparations. He’d sent her to their rooms to rest and she'd been grateful for the solitude, needing time to process the strange mix of accomplishment and inadequacy. She could ride now, barely, but the thought of navigating the corrupted paths of the Wildwood still made her uneasy.
Lost in thought, she rounded a corner too quickly and collided with someone coming the other way. Strong hands caught her arms, steadying her before she could fall backward, and she found herself staring up into Arion's startled face.
