pushed away from the table at the same time as he did.
Like anything else, using the crossbow properly was a matter of practice, and a great deal of it, it seemed. Even at short range she was woeful with it. But at least, over time, she did get better. When Eric finally called a halt — “For now,” he said — she was finally hitting the target most of the time, as opposed to bouncing the arrow off the ground, sending it over the target or whizzing by to either side.
Her efforts with the knife were a bit more successful, perhaps because in the wake of being a victim of an attack herself, she was not particularly eager to be a target again. And if she went at this with more enthusiasm and energy than skill, well, that was only to be expected. He taught her how to hold the knife so as to prevent it from being turned back on her, how to get at it when her arms were pinned, when to slash and when to stab. He promised to set up a dummy for her to practice on. “I am not teaching you how to throw a knife,” he said, “so don’t ask. There is no point in it. Learning to throw knives properly can take a lifetime — and all you would ever accomplish, except for the odd, lucky hit, would be to give your attacker another weapon by throwing it at him.”
Nor was Eric done with her for the day. After dinner, he took her back outside and put her on one of the horses. The real horses, and not her mule.
“You’re going to learn to ride a proper horse,” he told her. “Properly astride. When you come out with me, I want you to be able to keep up.”
She nodded, remembering how her shorter mule had struggled to keep pace with his longer-limbed horse. She waited, bundled up in that warm coat, hat and gloves, while he went into the stable. He must have told the Spirit Elementals which horses to get ready, for they were out in a very short length of time.
She tried not to be alarmed, but it was difficult. When it all came down to it, she was, after all, a woman of the city, who walked nearly everywhere.
The beast Eric led out to her in the courtyard towered over her. She watched him lead it up to her with growing apprehension; it was a dark brown with a black mane and tail, and she thought it was looking at her with utter contempt, as if it knew exactly how bad a rider she was.
He tied it up to a stone pillar with a ring in it — evidently there for just that purpose — and laced his hands together. “Put your left foot there,” he ordered. “I’ll boost you up into the saddle.”
Nervously, she got a good grip on the pommel with both hands and did as she was told — and in the next moment found herself flying upward. Somehow she managed to get her leg over the saddle before she fell off on the other side. It took a few more moments of fumbling with her feet for the stirrups before she could find them. The horse was not only tall, it was very, very wide. Much wider than her little mule, or the few “lady’s horses” she had ever ridden. Already her legs were starting to hurt a little and she knew that she was going to need a hot soak very badly when this was over.
Eric puttered about both sides of the horse, actually grabbing her feet and moving them to where he wanted them, shortening the stirrups a little — which helped her legs — and pulling the belt that went around the middle of the horse a little tighter. Finally, he seemed satisfied, and took a long line that had been tied to his belt and fastened it to the horse’s bridle. “Take up the reins,” he said, backing up. “You remember this from when you first learned to ride, yes?”
He eyed her critically. “All right. Here we go.” He clucked to the horse, and it moved out in a walk and then just as she grew accustomed to the pace, into a trot.
She was terrified she was going to get bounced off, and the horse seemed to be having a wicked good time at her expense, but she tried to do everything Eric said, and slowly, it all started to come together. The jouncing wasn’t as bad…in fact, it slowly stopped being jouncing as she and the saddle stopped meeting painfully in the middle.
She heard him cluck to the horse again, and the beast stretched out his legs and went into a canter, which was both a relief, and terrifying. A relief, because it was an infinitely easier gait! But terrifying, because the horse was going so fast!
Three times around, with Eric turning elegantly on his heel as he kept the horse moving on the end of the line, and it started to be less terrifying and more exciting. She hadn’t fallen! And the speed — so amazing —
“All right, that’s enough for now!” he called, and the horse slowed — slowed quite quickly, in fact, no more than a couple of paces at the trot before he was walking again. And then stopped.
Eric coiled up the line, walking toward her, then held the horse at the bit. He looked up at her with a faint smile on his face. He didn’t look nearly as intimidating with that expression on his face, and with her looking down on him. “Not bad. At least whoever instructed you the first time didn’t give you any bad habits.”
She didn’t answer; she just swung her leg over the pommel of the saddle and slid — a bit painfully — down to the ground.
“Here.” He had pulled the reins over the horse’s head; now he thrust them into her hands again. “Walk him cool — it won’t take long. A good rider never lets his horse stand after he’s broken a sweat until he’s cooled down naturally. It’ll help you work out some of those cramps, too.”
So she limped around the courtyard under his critical eye, until he judged the horse ready to go back to the stable. Then he whistled, and one of the Spirit Elementals came to take reins and horse from her.
She started to head back into the Manor, and noticed he wasn’t following. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked.
“It’s a full-moon night so I’ll be out for most of it. Sebastian and his servants are seeing to it that he’s locked up, but if he breaks free again, we can’t afford to take the risk of someone else being attacked. The next person might not be as lucky as you were.” He shrugged. “You’d better get inside, though, and tell the servants to give you supper in your room. Preferably in a hot bath. Oh, and congratulations on not growing hair and fangs last night. Looks like you’ll only be our guest for three moons, after all.”
“Erm…thank you,” she said awkwardly, and turned to go inside. When she paused at the door to look back, he was already gone from the courtyard.
It would definitely be an early supper, but she was ready for it, and was thinking quite strongly of trying to sleep early, as well. If she could, with the howling. She wrote her letter to her father and tucked it in the box before she let Sapphire lead her to the bathroom. By that time, she had begun to stiffen up. Supper in the bath had been a very, very good idea. Even better was the rather tall flagon of mulled wine that Sapphire brought her. The servant seemed to have resigned herself to Bella’s male attire; she had taken it away with none of the theatrics she had evidenced when she had laid it out.
