“When you step up, throw yourself toward the pommel, then grab it and use it to pull yourself over,” Harthon offered. He leaned against a tree just past the horse’s flank, watching me struggle.
My face flamed, but I pictured what he said. Iwouldfigure this out.
Eying the pommel, I launched off the ground and just barely grasped it with one hand. With a tug, I straightened my leg and swung myself onto the saddle. A satisfied grin leapt to my lips, but Iquickly stifled it when Harthon approached, his presence a sobering reminder of my captivity. He swung up far too easily behind me and reached for the reins.
I felt his thighs tense against the backs of my legs, and the horse began to move. “Does tensing your legs tell him to start walking?” I asked as we delved into the patch of woods.
“It’s less about tensing and more about gently squeezing the horse with your legs.”
With the size of Harthon’s legs, his “gentle squeeze” was probably equivalent to a crushing hug. “How does he know you’re asking him to walk?” It was amazing a horse would allow that, never mind understand what it meant.
“He learns it during training.”
He made it sound so simple. I wasn’t convinced. “And how do you even teach that during training? He’s an animal.”
“It’s a long, complicated process. It requires patience, calm, and a fair share of accidents. But horses are smart. They pick up on lessons quickly, particularly when rewards are involved.”
“Rewards as in food?”
“For fuck’s sake, have you never even seen a horse?” The aggravated remark came from beside us. From North, who’d apparently been listening to our conversation. He sneered, and I may have leaned a little closer to the man behind me.
Harthon’s presence emboldened me to answer. “Obviously. But I’m not a bloodthirsty soldier, so I’ve never ridden.”
It was a disrespectful thing to say to a second-in-command. I needed to watch myself.
North snorted. It sounded like a disgruntled bear. Not that I knew what bears sounded like, given they all died years ago, but it was easy enough to imagine.
“You never left your village, did you?”
“I trapped animals in the woods outside the village walls.”
He chuckled, the sound mean. “We are so fucked.”
“North,” Harthon barked. Authority rang in the sharp word, and I would have stepped away if I could.
Silence hung heavy as Harthon’s command echoed, and the scowl that deformed North’s face made his feelings very, very clear. He was furious. By the terrifying glare he shot me a moment before falling behind us, he was furious atme.
Well he could go disappear into the Domus for all I cared.
“They usually respond to food and sometimes praise,” Harthon casually resumed, as if he hadn’t just scared every living creature around us.
“Right,” was all I said in response. After North’s degrading reaction, I no longer felt like asking questions.
“It’s hard at first, learning to ride. You can be strong and competent on the battlefield, but riding takes different muscles and skills. It requires hours of practice, but eventually, it’s as easy as walking on your own legs.”
I didn’t say anything as we came to another grassy field.
Harthon continued. “It’s also important to choose the right horse. Not all horses will agree with all riders. Styles and temperaments need to align. Force the wrong horse to work for you, and you’ll meet some hooves. Just ask Cal.”
“Hey, it was a dare. I had to do it,” Callen protested from behind us.
Surprise filtered through my sourness as I realized what Harthon was doing. He was answering all of the questions he knew I had. Not with condescension or annoyance, but with patience.
“Have you really never ridden a horse?” he asked.
He wouldn’t do all that for me, just to ridicule my response. Still taken aback, I answered honestly. “There was never a need or an opportunity. My first time on a horse was with Koerlyn’s men.”
“Do you want to learn?”
