I stare straight ahead. The sunlight flickers like water through the trees.
“Alright… Keiren.” I keep my eyes forward. “Tell me—what do you know about Pegasi?”
“They haven’t been seen in centuries,” he says. “They were the pride of the Old Guard—swift, loyal, and rare. My mother rode one. I remember…” His voice fades.
“What?”
“Back then, all magical creatures were free to roam Abrellia. Their numbers were great, before the purging.”
I glance sideways, catching his profile through the fog of memory. His jaw is tight, his eyes distant.
“I still don’t understand,” I say quietly. “Ashwing was bred with a normal stallion. He had no wings.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, too,” he admits. “She gave birth in the Forest of Monsters. That place is old. Strange. Some say it awakens bloodlines long thought dead.”
He pauses. “And since horses are distant descendants of Pegasi, it would make sense that the forest’s magic could alter her pregnancy—especially if she spent a significant amount of time there looking for you.”
The thought hums through me.
My sweet girl journeyed all that way to find me.
If I ever make it back, I’ll have to thank Kat for teaching them how to open gates, after all. A quiet laugh escapes me.
Then the warmth fades.
Kat.
I wonder if she’s married Tobias by now. If they’re still at the ranch. If they’re planning a family of their own.
The ache settles in my chest, deep and familiar.
His gaze drops to the Pegasus dagger tied to Brimstone’s saddlebag, the same one Aaron slipped me on the day of the Bloodmoon. “That dagger,” he says. “Family heirloom?”
“Yes.” My voice is cautious. “How did you—”
“The hilt,” he says. “It’s carved with a Pegasus. I remember those. My father had a set made for the Pegasusmasters of the South. Only their bloodline could tame them. They were quiet folk. Loyal to the end.”
My throat tightens. He’s talking about my family.
“What happened to them?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
He closes his eyes. “They were slaughtered. Or fled. After my father declared war on all magical bloodlines.”
“So, there’s magic in my blood?”
“Yes. I sensed it the night we met. It’s faint, but it’s there.”
Silence follows, deeper this time. Raw.
As we ride on, drizzle begins to fall, kissing stone and skin with just a whisper of rain.
As we slow to let the other horses catch up, I reach for my boots to readjust them. Wet from the rain, they accidentally stretch too far. The damp tunic shifts against my back, revealing the burn scar I try so hard to keep hidden. A breeze skims across it like a phantom’s touch.
I flinch and instinctively pull my cloak tighter, pressing a shielding hand against my exposed skin.
Keiren says nothing, but I feel it—the subtle shift of his body, the pause in his breath.
Again, he notices.
