The words stiffened her spine, but she walked forward with the stable master, leaving Cardon to hang back. The gray gelding stood beside the mounting block, one large black eye trained on them. Clare approached exactly as Master Lank had taught her, holding out her hand and allowing Jinn to come the final distance and settle his nose in her sweating palm. She flinched at the foreign touch but forced herself to rub her hand up between his eyes, watching as his ears flicked in silent greeting.
“May I join you?”
Clare’s heart skipped at that familiar deep voice and she twisted to watch Bennick approach, leading a saddled horse from a nearby stall. The animal was noticeably taller than Jinn, with a deep brown coat and black hair. The sight of such a powerful horse unsettled her, but it was the flip in her stomach that distracted her now.
Bennick’s throat bobbed as he neared, drawing her gaze to his angular jaw coated with its usual layer of stubble. The longer Clare stared, the harder it was to look away. It didn’t matter that she’d spent the morning training with him. No matter how familiar she became with Bennick, something about him inevitably snared her.
He halted before her and Clare realized she hadn’t answered. Her cheeks warmed and she cleared her throat. “Of course you can join me.”
“What a relief.” Mirth crinkled the skin around his eyes. “I worried you might be sick of me after this morning.”
She quirked a smile. “Sick of getting stabbed, yes.”
“You’ll have to get better at disarming me.”
“Bennick,” Master Lank warned as he stepped forward. “You said you were here to help.”
“Of course.” Bennick turned to Clare and pressed a hand over his heart. “I promise to chase after you if Jinn gallops off.”
It was ridiculous how much that meant to her. How much his presence alone meant. He knew she’d been nervous about her first ride—he’d even asked how she was feeling during their lesson today. He hadn’t revealed any intention of coming to support her.
Master Lank gestured to Jinn. “Ready, Clare?”
Swallowing back her anxiety, Clare stepped onto the mounting block while Master Lank held Jinn’s bridle. She wasn’t allowed to straddle the horse, since apparently fine ladies were to risk their lives by riding sideways, so she lifted herself up onto her unnatural perch and Master Lank handed up the reins.
She gripped them fiercely and the stable master laid a hand over her fists. “Remember, he’ll sense your tension. Relax.”
Clare sucked in a breath, trying to ease her tight muscles. All that effort seemed wasted a moment later when Master Lank guided the horse forward. Clare strangled the reins as her world rocked. It felt like she was going to pitch off the horse—almost like he was stumbling beneath her. She hated horses.
Bennick had swung up onto his own horse and he kept close beside her as they entered the yard. Master Lank led them to the riding track circling the space outside the stable, and as he walked Clare around the first circuit he offered praise and advice. He stepped aside for the second rotation and Clare tensed without his steadying presence. She was all the more grateful for Bennick riding gently beside her.
After plodding halfway around the track, Clare finally loosened her jaw enough to speak. “You must be bored with the slow pace.”
“I’m not,” Bennick assured her, even as his horse snorted and shook his head.
Clare would have laughed if her lungs weren’t so tight. “I think your horse disagrees.”
Bennick leaned over and patted the long brown neck. “He’s fine. We both like a leisurely ride from time to time.”
She glanced over at him. “Thank you. You didn’t have to come. I know you’re busy.”
“It was no trouble.” Bennick shifted in the saddle, stretching his back. “How are your other studies going?”
“Quite well.” She was actually doing better in languages than Ramus had expected, and it was nice to know she had a talent somewhere. Of course, the irritable librarian always found ways to stump her when she gave too many satisfactory answers.
“How did Mistress Henley treat you today?” Bennick asked.
Mistress Henley was her etiquette teacher, and the woman was a tyrant. Clare snorted. “I didn’t know there was a wrong way to hold a teacup, but she corrected me for an hour.”
He laughed once, shaking his head. “At least now you can mend your ways.”
“At least for once it’s an easy habit to fix.”
“What else does she have you changing?”
“Apparently my laugh is too harsh.”
He squinted at her, incredulous. “What?”
“That’s what she tells me.” She vented a breath. “Nothing seems to satisfy her.”
Bennick shook his head. “From where I stand, you’re adjusting perfectly.”
A slight hitch in the horse’s step had her strangling the reins and set her heart pounding.
Bennick nudged his horse closer. “Easy,” he murmured. “Relax.”
She tried. She really did. But her knuckles were still white.
“Tell me about your family,” Bennick asked.
Clare cut him a look. “What? Why?”
He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m trying to distract you.”
“Oh.” She hesitated, her attention still focused on every shift and clop of the horse beneath her.
Bennick asked the names and ages of her brothers and Clare answered without much thought. But as his questions deepened her tongue loosened, and words began to flow. She hadn’t realized how badly she needed to talk about her brothers until the stories poured out, requiring little prompting from Bennick now. She shared amusing arguments Mark and Thomas had gotten into, her fears of Thomas wanting to become a soldier, and memories of raising the two boys. Pride lifted her voice when she shared Mark’s thirst for learning and Thomas’s excellent memory, and Bennick listened to it all attentively, grinning, laughing, and commenting, sometimes asking her a question which launched her into a new story. The more Clare spoke, the less aware she became of the horse’s jerking steps and the knot in her belly gradually loosened.
Her words stopped only when she realized how
