“I’ve never asked you if you ride,” Heller muses.
“Never. We didn’t have horses at home, and I’ve never thought about it here.”
“We need to rectify that one day. It’s such a feeling of freedom—nothing beats it.” Joy lights his eyes as he watches them.
We sit in silence as the horses calm, a few squeals and shakes of their strong necks punctuating the quiet.
I let the quiet stretch between us, watching the horses graze, before the question slips out. “Are the Equitae like this?” A pause “I’ve never met one, you know.”
Heller clears his throat, his shoulders tensing.
“Are you all right?” I ask, noticing his gaze has turned raw, haunted—something broken flickering behind his eyes that makes my chest tighten.
“Sorry, you caught me off guard. I suppose I’ve never told you about before I came here. About my parents.” He pauses. “It’s not a story with a happy ending.”
He sighs deeply and his gaze drops from mine to his hands, and for a long moment, he’s silent—gathering the strength to dredge up memories he’d clearly rather leave buried.
“We lived in a small village on the banks of the Deeproot River—you may know it as Deeproot Crevice now.” His voice is flat, distant. “Life was simple. We were happy. Then the King started pressuring the Equitae to give up their fertile lands.”
He draws a shaky breath.
“One day, an Equitae Herd attacked. No warning. No demands.” His hands curl into fists. “Pure slaughter. They came into our houses and cut down everyone they found. My father—” His voice cracks. “Beheaded. Right in front of us. My mother and sister screaming. I was eight. I tried to protect them.”
He glances at me, his eyes deep pools of swirling dark water. I reach out and rest my hand on his knee.
“They tossed me aside. I hit my head on the fireplace, and as I blacked out, I watched them drag my mother and sister away.”
A horse neighs across the pasture.
“When I woke, I was alone with my father’s body. Outside—a massacre. No one was left alive.” His breathing turns ragged. “Then I found the barn. The place we’d used for dances.” He swallows hard. “They’d gathered all the women and girls there. Used them. Then slaughtered them like animals.”
My chest tightens, but I don’t speak. I just squeeze his knee.
“I tried to leave. Find safety. Then I saw it—my sister’s red dress outside the barn. I ran to her, pulled her into my lap.” His voice drops to barely a whisper. “She died in my arms.”
He stops. Stares out into the pasture.
“I sat there for days with her body. The rot. The stench. I don’t remember when the Thorn Guards found me. The General brought me here.”
He finally looks at me, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes is almost unbearable to witness.
“So … no. The Equitae are nothing like these beautiful creatures.” His voice turns sharp, venomous. “They’re barbaric, savage murderers and rapists. Their Alpha Stallion Reth Whiteborn the most brutal of them all.”
His voice breaks on a strangled cry.
“I’m … so sorry,” I whisper, but my words feel inadequate and trite.
I knew nothing of the Equitae beyond what I’d been told and read in various books. I knew they were ruthless warriors, but the reality is so much more.
“It’s not your fault. Thank you for listening. I haven’t shared that with anyone for years.” He sniffs, clapping his hand over mine and lacing his fingers through my own.
He looks over at me, then his eyes pinch with concern.
“What’s that on your neck?”
I explain my unplanned training session with Prince Kiernan, though I leave out a few parts.
“He held a sword to your throat?” Disbelief sharpens his voice.
