“Indeed. Sun stallions are a rare breed of fae horse that are guarded and cared for by the Day Court. They are extraordinarily difficult to buy due to their rarity, the level of care required before the Sun King is willing to part with one, and the general demand for them among fae nobility,” the stable worker said.
I stared up at the chandelier that hung over the aisle—yes, achandelierin abarn. I was starting to understand why the Court was broke. “What you’re saying is that they’re really expensive,” I said.
The dryad hemmed and hawed behind me, which was as much of an answer as I needed.
A quick count said I was the owner of eighteen sun stallions.
If the Day King required chandeliers and skylights in a stable to sell his horses, I was pretty sure these animals were individually pricier than a top-of-the-line, luxury car.
I sighed as the sweet-tempered sun stallion rested its muzzle on my shoulder, but forced myself to turn to the dryad with a smile. “I’m sorry for being rude and not asking this earlier, but what’s your name?”
The dryad started to bend over in another bow—which I would have thought would be awkward since she was quite a bit taller than me, but despite her long limbs she had the sort of swaying grace of a weeping willow tree.
I held a hand up to stop her before she got into a full bow. “Please, bowing isn’t necessary.”
From the way the subtle green hue of her skin was turning yellow, I was pretty sure she was going to start shedding some of the leaves in her hair from all her anxiety. “I’m Dawn, Queen Leila. My brother, Dusk, and I manage and run the stables.”
“Great.” I smiled at her, trying to appear as friendly as possible. “You’re exactly who I need to talk to. As much as I regret it, we’re going to have to sell the sun stallions.”
Dawn’s mouth dropped. “Pardon?”
“Queen or not, it’s silly to haveeighteenhorses on top of the night mares. Wherearethe night mares, anyway? I know six of them are still with my parents, but I was under the impression there were more of them.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know, Queen Leila. They tend to be fairly autonomous.”
“I don’t know how autonomous they really are considering how they look.” I frowned a little. “I want them stabled and cared for.”
“Then…you’re certain?”
“About selling the sun stallions? Absolutely. As long as you can find them good homes where they will be well cared for.”
“That won’t be a problem—anyone who wishes to sell a sun stallion must use the Day Court as a broker. They will find the best home possible…” Dawn picked up the pitchfork she’d dropped earlier, her forehead wrinkling deep with concern.
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence, and not a horse one.” I winked at Dawn, but she totally ignored my joke and tightened her long fingers—which were knobby like a twig—around the handle of her pitchfork, too scared to say anything.
She’s not telling me everything. What do I ask to ferret out the truth?
I glanced up and down the line of horses. “Is there a problem with some of the horses that will make them more difficult for the Day Court to resell?”
Dawn’s grip on her pitchfork made her knuckles turn white.
“Which horses—or horse?” I asked.
The stable manager reluctantly led me deeper into the stable, stopping in front of a stall near the center.
A large sun stallion stood inside. His white mane and tail were threaded with blue tinted flames. His coat was a glossy copper color, but it seemed to have an iridescent blue and green sheen to it—like a telescope photo of a supernova.
“This is Fax,” Dawn said.
Fax came to his stall door, his ears perked.
“Hello, Fax. You’re positively gorgeous, aren’t you?” I cooed over him as he sniffed at my clothes.
“He is of a rather advanced age,” Dawn said. “I’m certain there would still be interested buyers, but they might…push him more than he can handle.”
“Okay. Then we’ll keep Fax.”
Dawn’s bones audibly creaked as she snapped her head to gape at me. “Really?”
