Finally, he sighed. “I wouldn’t say this in front of anyone else, but...” He inched closer, ducking to whisper in my ear, “I’m sorry. For everything that’s happened.”
For the tiniest moment, my heart fluttered. He was so uncomplicated compared to Jethro. He kept things hidden—his true agenda being one—but I felt as if he only had one layer beneath his exterior, not thousands.
I placed my hand over his, squeezing in gratitude. “That means a lot. Thank you.”
The moment stretched on for longer than it should; we both jumped away guiltily.
Clearing his throat, Kes asked, “I’m going to get the foxhounds. Want to come to the stables?”
Huddling deeper into his jacket, I nodded. “Why not? Perhaps it’s not a day for running, after all.”
“Well…if you’re not going for a run, I have a much better idea.”
Holding out his arm, he waited for me to loop mine with his. His smile was still tainted, but life sparked in his eyes. “Let’s go do something fun.”
Fun.
I envisioned a drink in a warm boudoir or hanging out with friends while playing a board game, or even watching a movie with popcorn.
But apparently, that wasn’t what Kes had in mind.
Entering the stables, he placed the shotgun in the tack room and motioned for me to follow. We headed into the long cobblestone-paved building where countless horses rested in cubicles. The floor was scattered with sweet smelling hay and the air temperature was warm and inviting. Scents weaved with the comforting aroma of horse and leather.
My tension dissolved, slipping down my spine and leaving my shoulders free from the choke of worry and deliberation.
Jethro said he would save me.
But Kes saved my mental state by reminding me normalcy still existed. Animals were still there to lick away my sorrows, and the sun still rose on days not so bleak.
I needed reminding of that.
Considering I’d never been around horses growing up, something about them tamed my anxiety, giving me a place to hide and regroup.
Kes smiled, moving between the stalls; horses watched with glossy gazes and pert ears. He stopped halfway down the aisle. A long, grey face and the gentlest black eyes popped over the railing. The horse nuzzled his pockets, nickering softly.
Moth.
I moved faster, still madly in love with the dapple grey that I’d travelled to the polo tournament with.
Kes grinned as Moth switched her attention to me. Her velvet nostrils huffed, seeking oats and other treats as I reached out to stroke her powerful neck. “Hey, girl.”
She pawed the ground, the metal of her shoe clinking against cobbles.
“Wait there.” Kes disappeared to the end of the stables, then came back holding a rosy apple. “Here you go.”
I took it.
Moth followed the fruit with sniper-like attention.
“I just feed it to her?”
Kes nodded. “Put it on your palm and keep your fingers flat. You don’t want her to bite you accidentally.”
Great.
I eyed Moth hesitantly. Her neck strained over the railing, trying to get at the apple. When I didn’t move, Kes chuckled.
“Don’t be afraid.” He stole my hand, bent my fingers till they were flat, then shoved me forward. “Can’t tease the poor girl.”
The second I was within biting distance, Moth pinched the apple from my hand. A loud crunching noise filled the stables. Every other horse pricked its ears, alerted to the sound of treats and the fact that they weren’t getting any.
Apple juice dripped from her lips, plopping onto the dusty floor.
Kes laughed. “She’ll do anything for sweets. She’s a nutcase for molasses.”
I raised my hand, patting between her eyes. Moth nudged closer, demanding more cuddles, telling me exactly how she wanted it.
“She’s lovely,” I said softly, imagining owning such a magnificent animal.
“She is, I agree.” Kes never took his eyes off me. His words hovered between us, not entirely innocent. Something stronger than friendship emitted from him.
I had the insane urge to wrap my arms around Moth and use her as a crutch in this suddenly precarious position.
“Kestrel…”
He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”
We both stood awkwardly. I continued to stroke Moth and the yips of foxhounds in the kennel next door reminded me all over again of the first night I’d spent here and the kindness Squirrel had shown by licking my tears.
There was goodness in all of us. Human, equine…canine. We were all capable of good and bad. We were all redeemable—no matter what we did.
Kes rubbed his jaw. “You know…”
I looked up, waiting for him to continue. “Know what?” I prompted.
His gaze narrowed. He suddenly cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Eh, don’t worry about it.”
I frowned, scratching Moth around her ear, straining on tiptoes to reach. “Okay…”
A few seconds ticked past before he exploded. “You know what? Fuck it. It’s his fault he can’t bloody cope. I’m done with how he’s treated me and sick to fucking death of him reneging on everything we agreed.” He punched himself in the chest. “I was there for him from the beginning. I kept his bloody secrets. I deserve to know what the fuck is going on, but he’s cut me out.”
I froze. “What do you mean?”
Kes chuckled darkly. “It means, I’m done. That’s what. I’m sick of waiting for him to crawl back and apologise. I’m also sick of him threatening me to stay away from you—even though I know he’s ignoring you as much as me.”
What on earth happened between Kes and Jethro to warrant their relationship turning so sour?
He dragged a hand through his hair. “Jethro approached me after the polo game last month. He asked if I wanted a new horse.”
I gasped. “Oh, no! You can’t get rid of her.” I leaned into her, pressing my face against her neck. “She’s perfect. Don’t ever say such a thing.”
Kes smiled, patting the mare. “I know. She’s a great girl. She’s only eight years old, so she’s not going to the glue factory anytime soon.”
I grabbed Moth’s ears, squeezing tight. Speaking to the horse, I said, “Pretend you never heard of glue or factory. That will never happen to you. I won’t allow it.”
Even as I said it, I wanted to burst into insane tears. Moth would outlive me by decades. I was the one on the countdown to be put down, not her.
Unless Jethro figures out his plan.
Kes’s finger pressed against the underside of my chin, raising my eyes to his. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, because it just makes him look good all over again, but…he wanted to get me a new horse, so you could have Moth.”
My heart stopped. “Me?”
He nodded. “He was going to give her to you the night after the Second Debt. But of course…” He trailed off, both of us aware what happened the next day.
Kes gritted his jaw. “And if I’m completely honest, I’m glad he didn’t have the chance to give her to you.” A cloud fell over his face, twisting his features with anger. “She’s my horse. I should be the one to give her away if I choose.”
I stroked his arm, hoping to reassure him that no one was taking his horse. And even if Jethro had given me Moth, I couldn’t have taken her because she already belonged to Kes. “Don’t worry, Kestrel. She’s yours. No one—”
“I want you to have her.”
The air solidified.
Moth huffed, nudging me as I stood mute.
I spluttered, “I—I can’t.”
Even as I said it, the thought of owning this incredible beast blistered my heart. To have something of my own, while surrounded by things that could never be—it would be…wonderful.
Kes clamped strong hands on my shoulders, staring deep into my eyes. “She’s yours. She responds to you more than she does with me. You’re meant to have her, Nila.”
Gratefulness and overwhelming amazement filled me. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
Kes smiled. “Say nothing. It’s already done.” Squeezing my shoulders, he stepped back. “You’re the proud new owner of a dapple grey by the name of Warriors Don’t Cry.” Patting Moth on the neck, he grinned. “I’ll find the pedigree papers later, so you can keep them safe, but for now…let’s go for a ride.”
My eyes bugged out of my head. “I’ve never been on a horse before.”
Not counting with Jethro when he carted me back on Wings, of course.
Kes ignored me, heading toward the tack room. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll show you.”
An hour later, I sat atop my first ever horse.
I’m freaking.
I’m terrified.
I’m beyond exhilarated.
I couldn’t remember the last time something affected me so piercingly.
Even Jethro?
Well, apart from him.
It seemed the older I grew and more jaded by life I became, the more I lost the heightened extremes of newness. No longer enjoying the catapulting happiness or devastating lowness. These days my highs and lows were more hills and valleys rather than mountains and chasms.