I guided her inside, leading us toward the thirteenth stall, where my dapple grey mare nickered at the sight of me.
“Arken, this is Muniin. Muniin, this is Arken,” I said, introducing my two favorite females.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Muniin,” Arken giggled, humoring me as she reached out to stroke her speckled snout. “She’s very pretty.”
Not as pretty as you.
Good gods, I was getting soft.
“Where are we going again?” Arken asked, attempting to catch me off guard.
Nice try, clever girl.
“You’ll see.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
ARKEN
In truth, it was probably for the best that Kieran and I were only taking one horse—if only because I knew how to ride by myself, but just barely.
There had rarely been any need back home in the Brindlewoods, where we’d only had two or three horses for the village at any given time. Those were typically reserved for use by the village elders, like Amaretta and Old Jonas, when they needed to make supply runs to Elsewiere.
For the best,I reminded myself as Kieran offered me his hand, shifting back in Muniin’s saddle, leaving space for me to hoist myself up, clutching at my skirts with my free hand.
For the best,I repeated as I settled in, feeling the warmth of Kieran’s chest at my back, his groin pressed against my ass as predicted. His arms bracketed me like a vise as he reached for the reins.
“Shall we?” Kieran murmured, lips close—too close—to my ear.
“I suppose we shall,” I replied, and suddenly we were off—a gentle nudge from Kieran’s heel setting Muniin off into a smooth canter toward the Eastern Gates.
“We’re headed to the Wyldwoods?” I asked, wind rustling my hair as we sped comfortably through the back alleys of the Academic Quarter. Both Kieran and Muniin clearly knew their way around the city, taking the least obstructed paths and avoiding foot traffic.
“Something like that.”
“Good gods, you’re infuriating,” I muttered, so quietly that I didn’t expect he’d hear it over the sounds of the city and the steady beat of his horse’s hooves against the cobblestones and dirt.
“I’m told that’s a defining element of my personality, yes,” Kieran shot back as we reached the Eastern Gates in what felt like no time at all. “But I think you like it.”
I was thankful my back was against him, if only so he didn’t see my cheeks heat furiously at the thought that came to mind.
Like it? That’s an understatement. I fucking love that about you, Vistarii.
Embarrassing as it was, even in the sanctity of my own thoughts, it was true. Even though Kieran seemed to get off on being as irritating as humanly possible, I wouldn’t have it any other way. What could I say? I was the type who bored easily and needed achallengeto stay entertained.
And this man was challenging, indeed.
As usual, the air dropped several degrees as Muniin took us through the arching branches of the clearing, entering the primary trail into the Wyldwoods. It wasn’t frigid, but I shivered all the same—my skin prickling at the rise of environmental aether thickening the cool air, buzzing on my tongue with every inhale.
Kieran rubbed one hand up and down my arm, as if to try to warm me up before calling out words in a language I didn’t recognize.
“Vesnya, Muniin.Tach.”
The mare cut southwest, taking us down a small trail I’d never been down before. Indeed, a path less traveled, if the overgrown brambles and young ferns poking up between the thin, trampled road ahead were to be believed.
“Does your horse speakAetheric?!” I asked, no longer needing to raise my voice in the stillness of the forest. The only sounds to be heard out here were those of the wild blowing through the boughs, the chirps and chitters of local wildlife, and the gentle, sparkling trickles of a nearby stream.
“Don’t be silly,” Kieran replied. “Horses can’t speak, and certainly not highly complex, dead languages. I don’t think they’ve got the anatomy for it.”