Page 48 of A Cruel Kindness

I turned to Soren for explanation, but the only thing I found was his expression plain, if not somewhat dark.

Knowing better than to push it, I followed Esme. Ford was already outside, sitting on the steps. When he rose to follow his Soul Mate, I saw his own iteration of their Mark. It was obviously a twin to Esme’s, but his was bigger, fit to his bulging form. It matched their personalities, really.

Esme’s snake was more lithe and graceful, whereas Ford’s looked like a beast capable of swallowing you whole.

The four of us walked in silence down the gentle slope of the hill, heading for the long stables at the bottom of the camp. The structure looked like an ounce of extra care was put into it, down to the crisp white paint obscuring the natural color of the wood.

Through my week of training, I’d been asked no less than seven times if I knew how to ride a horse. Only three of those clarified that they did not mean side saddle.

My boots were made for riding, careful to protect my feet from an errant hoof and with a heel that would help secure me to the saddle. Excitement built in my chest as we approached. I’d always loved the freedom of riding, though I’d never been allowed to form any sort of bond with a horse.

The horses we had at the castle were for show or to pull carriages only. If I’d tried to form an attachment with a horse in particular, my father would have figured it out and banned me from riding another day of my life.

When we approached the stables and people came back into view, I felt Soren’s hand hover over my lower back. I slowed my next step, letting my body fold closer to his.

The closer I was to him, the safer I felt. It was just a fact at this point.

As people slowed their movements and cut off conversations to gawk at us, no different than normal, I found that I much preferred being closer to him than weather the uncomfortable weight of people’s attention on my own.

Esme and Ford strode through the large wooden doors with confidence, their steps timed perfectly even though they kept a good three feet between them.

People didn’t seem to pay them any mind, save for the odd interested glance at either of them, pulled in by their individual beauty.

I could only hope we’d get the same treatment one day. The ignoring, that was. I didn’t quite care for the idea that people would be staring at Soren waiting for an opportunity to steal him away from me.

Horses neighed and cooed as we walked by, pulling my attention from the dark thoughts of cutting off hands and gouging out eyes.

Like everything in Muli, the horses here seemed familiar, with a slight undercurrent of change. They were bigger, their coats brighter and shinier.

Even the way they interacted with each other and people seemed different, almost more human.

A few people were tightening saddles and leading horses outside, all clad in the same uniform as us—riding boots and pants, with shirts highlighting their Marks.

She’s really pretty, the Bond interrupted, crawling through my mind. You’ll like her.

Like who? I asked in response, though I wasn’t expecting it to answer.

It was Soren who answered for the Bond, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “You already have a horse.”

A horse neighed then, the sound almost sounding like hello, it was so human. “Are you sure these are horses?”

I could feel Soren’s smile against the shell of my ear. “They are as close to horses as they can be. Here, they are known as equin, but they are essentially the horses you know.”

“What makes them different?” It seemed like it was more than the obvious size.

“Let me show you,” Soren said, right as we approached the end of the stables to two large stalls. Loud, excited sounds broke from the one on my left, coming from two horses in the same stall who started bouncing on their legs like schoolchildren when they saw us.

“I know, sweetheart, I missed you too,” Esme said, jumping over the stall door as if it was nothing more than a small impediment.

“I brought you treats,” Ford grumbled, his voice taking on a softer quality than I’d ever heard it.

Soren’s hand, placed softly on my bicep, pulled my attention back to the right side. My gaze immediately connected with the large, deep brown eyes of the most beautiful horse I’d ever seen in my life.

She was large, standing almost to double my height, with a rich, chocolate brown coat that took on an almost purple hue when the soft evening light poured through the window at the back.

“This is Clover,” Soren explained.

I smiled wide with wonder. The name suited her, matching the smug spark in her eyes that fit the disposition of someone who bathed in luck and good fortune.