Her mouth suddenly felt very dry.Ridingin a cart was different from approaching a bull head-on. But she’d abandoned everything to follow her brother out to the wild. She’d faced outlaws, and survived. Surely she could walk up to the sleepy-looking beast that Aevrin was still patting on the neck.
If nothing else, she didn’t want Aevrin thinking she was a coward. Not that it mattered what he thought of her. He’d probably end up with a woman who’d grown up on a ranch, who didn’t think twice about approaching a deadly, fire-breathing bull.
Drawing a deep breath, Cassia forced herself forward. She stuck her hand out like the bull was one of the pets who’d sometimes lived in the fancy houses where she worked, first as hearthmaid, then dishwasher and preparatory cook during one frantically understaffed party, then rapidly rising through the ranks of the cooks.
“See? You got it,” Aevrin said quietly as the bull snuffled at her hand, his muzzle soft but his breath as scorching as an oven. The cowherd slipped a hand into his trousers pocket, then held a closed fist out to Cassia. She offered him her palm; he deposited a candied squash piece there, his calloused fingers grazing her skin.
“Oh, my favorite,” she joked. “You shouldn’t have.”
“I mean, if you want it, go ahead,” the cowherd chuckled. “Can’t promise how long it’s been in my pocket. Go on. He’ll like it.”
The bull’s tongue was rough, slobbery, and a little too forceful as he swiped the treat out of Cassia’s palm. She shook her hand out and then wiped the remaining spit on the bull’s hot neck. But the bull didn’t move, other than to turn his snuffling muzzle towards Aevrin. Clearly, he knew where the treat hadcome from in the first place. Cassia didn’t blame Stal. She liked the rancher, too.
Aevrin shifted his weight, leaning a tiny bit closer to her. Did that mean something? They were standing awfully close already. No, she was being foolish. He was juststanding, that was all. She was probably the only one who even noticed how close to each other they were. Cassia bit her lip. Absently she patted the bull, twice, her hand lingering and her mind firmly locked on the man beside her. She rested her palm on Stal’s warm side a moment too long, then snatched it back as her skin started to sting.
Saints, the creature’s skin was so hot she could practically fry an egg on his back. And soldiersrodethese? Weren’t the southlands where the war raged supposed to be hot enough already?
The rancher patted Stal again, then walked towards the cart, leaving Cassia there to deal with the bull herself. When Aevrin returned it was with a large padded driving collar in his arms. He offered it to Cassia, who took it with anoof, surprised by the weight. Its surface had a waxy texture, the leather treated against fire.
“Slip it over his head,” Aevrin said. He stood just behind her, so close she could feel the rumble of his voice and the heat of his body. Cassia had to raise one knee to balance the bottom of the giant, stiff collar as she turned it over in her hands. Finally, bowing backwards from the weight, she lifted it up over the bull’s horned head. Stal obliged her by lowering his jaw slightly, soft ears flopping. He huffed a puff of scorching hot air as Cassia thumped the collar down on his neck. She hurried forward to ease it down to his withers, worried he’d flame her if he wasn’t comfortable.
“Good,” Aevrin said, and immediately reached out from behind her to offer her long strips of leather with clips on the end. “These are the traces.”
His arm wasn’t touching, but an inch closer and it’d be wrapped around her, cradling her to him. She exhaled softly and stayed very, very still.
“What do I do?” her breath came out a squeak. But it wasn’t the bull that had her nervous.
“Clip ‘em here. And here. You can let the other ends hang on the ground for now.” He gestured to the metal loops on the collar where she was to fasten the leather straps. His tone was gruff and workmanlike, unlike her thoughts.
Next came a driving saddle, breaching, and a mostly-metal padded bridle. He made her run the reins through little loops in all the other equipment, until the bull was as elaborately dressed as a fine gentleman, if fine gentlemen were taken to dress in nothing but little strips of leather.
“I’m never going to remember all this,” Cassia informed him, as Aevrin stepped up against her, reaching one arm back around her to fix how she was positioning something. This time his chest pressed to her back. She caught her breath and held her hand very still for the half-second until he moved away again. Her heart was pounding.
“Sure you will, once you’ve done it a bunch. You’ve got brains, Cassia. It’s just your first time.”
If she had brains, they’d been scrambled worse than a cockatrice’s egg.
“There aren’t cattle in the cities, except when the soldiers come through on their way south,” she babbled, trying to appear cool and unaffected.
“How do people get around? Those horses?” he asked as she ran the reins through another loop. He said it like horses were unusual things.
“Walking. You know in some places, youdon’thave to take an hour just to go to the grocer and back?”
“Yeah, those places as pretty as this?” Aevrin teased. There was an odd tone in his voice, almost jealousy.
“Youknowthey aren’t.” She finished running the reins and stepped back. Taken by a sudden, odd fear that Aevrin might realise how much she liked Dawn Ridge, and take it for her likinghim(which, though accurate, seemed somehow like a disastrous outcome that could only lead to utter humiliation), Cassia added: “well, we’ve got pretty things, too. You know. Old statues and stately homes and the like.”
She peeked at him. Aevrin frowned and raised an eyebrow, then took the bull by the reins and led him around to the cart. Stal’s heavy hooves thudded on the dirt ground. She must have learned as much as he thought her brain could hold, or else he was getting tired of watching her flounder through it, because Aevrin ran the cart shafts through the leather loops on the girth and clipped the traces to the cart without asking her to do it. Cassia watched in silence. Aevrin moved to stand beside the bench, and offered her his hand.
She took it and stepped up to the driver’s bench, scooting in towards the middle. Aevrin hopped up beside her, grabbed the reins and the whip, and held them out.
“Do Ineedthat?” She eyed the long leather whip distastefully.
“It’s not for hurting him, it’s just ‘cuz you can’t reach him to give him a tap otherwise.”
Tentatively, Cassia reached out and accepted the handful of leather. She settled the hard handle of the whip into her righthand and tried to sort out the reins with her left. She was still fumbling when Aevrin leaned in towards her, his tall shoulder pressing hard against her, and wrapped his hands over hers. He was gentle as he moved each of her fingers into place and curled them around the reins with his big, calloused hands. Cassia could smell the soap in his hair, and the smoke on his skin.
It means nothing. It means nothing. It means nothing, she repeated as her heart thumped rapidly.
