He had considered eating his supper in thestables last night to avoid any further arguments or fistfightswith Yago the Worm, but he had not wanted to abandon Sahar again.Though the meal had been quieter and more subdued than most,everyone had been on their best behavior.Even Yago was not foolishenough to taunt Sahar in front of her father, who at forty and fiveyears of age, still looked more than capable of tearing the Wolfapart limb by limb if incited to do so.By the simmering anger inhis golden eyes every time he looked the Wolf’s way, it would nothave taken much.
Aleksi seemed to have been spared the king’sire, and he figured it was due to Munir and Brawn, who had no doubtinformed their king of what they had witnessed in the stables, andof how it differed from the wolf pack’s account.If Aleksi couldonly convince Sahar of their duplicity and his innocence—but firsthe would have to get her to even acknowledge him.
As he walked Zolotoy out of the trainingkraal, Sahar rode Lasair in through the gate on the far side andurged the mare into a slow trot to start their training session.Tethering Zolotoy to the fence, Aleksi hitched a foot up on therail and admired horse and rider as they broke into an easy gallop.It wasn’t only that Lasair was a gorgeous animal, or that she ranlike the wind, or that Sahar was an excellent rider—one of the bestAleksi had ever seen actually, man or woman—it was the rapportbetween horse and rider that mesmerized him.How they moved as one,intuitively, instinctually, effortlessly, something few riders wereable to attain.
Sahar was not only a good rider, but a goodtrainer as well.She understood her horse’s needs, working the marehard enough to keep up her endurance, but not so much that she woreher down.Of course, the princess had been raised in a royalhousehold known for its stable of fine horses, and her father wasrenowned for having won the Great Race of the Seven Tribes fourtimes in a row on his stallion, Storm Chaser.He’d chosen theyearling filly Cloud Dancer as his prize for winning that race.Sahar’s mare, Lasair, was the last foal out of the pair and worthher weight in gold in breeding rights.
“Well, Z,” he told the stallion as Yago andTaweel arrived for their training session, “you may still have achance to win the right to breed with that leggy mare, but I wouldwager all my winnings so far that I have lost my chance with thetigress.”
He untied Zolotoy’s reins and led him back tothe stables.
“At least I still have my Kiska,” he said,removing Z’s saddle.“Until I leave here to return home, whenRatter will take her in and keep her.”
Speaking of, where was Kiska?She hadn’t comerunning out of his antechamber or emerged from a burrow of straw togreet them as she usually did.
“Kiska?”he called.No answer.“Where are youmy little Kiska?”She wasn’t bundled in the bed linens on his cot,or in his pile of clothing, her two favorite napping spots.“Here,Kiska,” he called.“Here, kitty, kitty.”
She was nowhere in his chambers, and a knotformed in the pit of his belly as he searched the stall, unravelingonly a little when he didn’t find her crumpled little body buriedin the straw.
He went to Ratter’s antechamber, but he wasnot there, and neither was Kiska.
“Here, Kiska,” he called, walking severalstalls’ distance.She had been growing bolder in her explorationsthe past few days.“Here my little Kiska, here kitty, kitty, cometo me, my Kiska.”
He doubled back, calling out and looking intoevery bucket and every pile of blankets and clump of straw.
“You have lost Kiska?”
Aleksi looked up from the empty bucket he hadoverturned to find Sahar approaching with Lasair.
“I cannot find her anywhere,” he said, theknot coiling tighter in his gut.
“Let me stable Lasair, and I’ll help you lookfor her.”
Aleksi resumed his search and Sahar joinedhim, the both of them calling out for the missing kitten as theychecked the stalls to the west.They had finished with the sixthstall down when Sahar held her hand up.
“There,” she said, tilting her head.“Do youhear that?”
Aleksi cocked his head and listened.There itwas, a faint mewling, high pitched and insistent.They followed thecry to a stall ten gates down from Aleksi’s, where they found Kiskahuddled between two buckets of oats lined up against the wall.
“Come to me, my little Kiska,” he crooned,scooping up the terrified kitten.He tucked her into the crook ofhis arm and took a good look around.They were only two gates awayfrom the stall where Yago’s stallion, Tor, was housed.He walkedover to Tor’s empty stall and saw nothing amiss, but for a linenrag with a few drops of blood on it.He held Kiska up and saw noblood or open wounds on her, but he did not like the way she washolding one of her hind legs.
They took her back to his room and he set herdown on his cot.The knot in his belly twisted as Kiska hobbledacross the cot to him, her left hind leg dangling from the kneedown.
“I am sorry, little one,” he said, kneelingdown beside the cot.“I need to find out what your injury is sothat I might fix it.”He looked up at Sahar.“Can you hold herwhile I examine her leg?”he said.“She is not going to likethis.”
Sahar kneeled down on the opposite side ofthe cot and gently held the scruff of the kitten’s neck with onehand while holding her front legs with the other.
“I am sorry too, little Kiska,” she said,nodding to Aleksi as she tightened her grip.“Be brave, littleKiska,” she crooned as Aleksi manipulated her hip joint.And thoughKiska growled and spit as he did, the joint was still in its properplace.“Such a brave little girl you are,” Sahar continued hersing-song patter as Aleksi moved his fingers down Kiska’s leg.“Sobrave and strong.”
Kiska’s femur bone felt intact, but whenAleksi touched her tibia she screamed like she was being skinnedalive, and would have jumped off the cot if Sahar had not had sucha good hold on her.
“I have her,” she said, switching her hold sothat one hand still scruffed the kitten while the other held hergood hind leg, stretching her out and giving Aleksi better accessto her injured leg.
As slowly and gently as he could, Aleksiprodded the length of the bone, grimacing as he felt the brokenends grind against each other mid-tibia.Kiska had stoppedscreaming and just lay there, trembling, as Sahar’s gaze metAleksi’s.
“Is it fixable?”she asked, her expressionfull of concern.
“It should be,” he said.“It feels like aclean break mid-bone.A splint for a moon or two should do thetrick.”
