My high horse czar, p.8
My High Horse Czar, page 8
I walk Gavriil through as much of what has happened as I can, glossing over the reasons for Nojus’s men being after me and leaving out the fireballs and the electric shock magic. Even without those parts, his eyes get wider and wider, and when I tell him that Leonid allegedly showed up with a police officer, he takes my hand. “Adriana.”
“I know. It’s been. . .a weird few weeks.”
“I’m—I can’t believe you escaped.”
“Well, I stole their horse to do it,” I say.
“The horse none of them can ride and that they just found a week or so ago.”
“Even so, in their mind—”
“They won’t have papers for him,” Gavriil says.
“Not real ones, anyway,” I say.
“That’s true.” He frowns. “Listen, if I call my dad—”
“Are you guys fine, now?”
He stiffens, so that’s a no.
“Then don’t do it. Not for me. Not for this. I don’t want to drag you into—”
“Like I’m going to let you. . .what? Run all alone again?”
“They can have the horse back,” I say. “I mean, I feel bad for him. He hates them, and clearly he’s not a normal horse. I don’t think it’s right for them to have him, or to race him against his will or whatever. But I’m not sure what else to do.”
“I said, if I call my dad—”
“I don’t want to force anything horrible for you. I just need a loan.” I hate asking for money, but I don’t see another way, and I don’t have a single dime. “And if you know anyone who can find identification for people. . .”
“Then you’re just running again,” he says. “Stay with me instead, at least until these people can’t hurt you.”
It’s tempting. In all my life, just like the last two times I was around him, I’ve never been more tempted to just surrender. I’ve never more strongly considered trusting a man to take care of me. But that always comes with strings, and I can’t handle strings. I know I can’t. I’m the kind of person whom strings will strangle in the end, always.
“Gav—”
He holds up his hands. “I’m not saying you have to date me. I’m not proposing marriage. I’m just saying that instead of running away, you could believe in me for a minute. You can hide, and I’ll take care of this for you.”
I think about what I know about Gavriil. He’s honest. He’s hard working, especially for a rich man’s son, and he’s kind. He’s a beautiful, generous man. If there really are good men out there, he’s one of them.
And no one like that deserves to be saddled with someone like me.
“I can’t,” I say.
“I’ll get you cash,” he says. “But it’s a Sunday, and it’s late afternoon. The soonest I can get it for you is the morning. Stay here tonight, and you can think about it. Alright?”
My heart starts to pound. “But what if they find me?”
“If you think I can’t keep you safe for one night, here on my own track, you don’t know me at all.”
“They have the police on their side,” I say. “If they show up with a warrant, what will you do?”
“They don’t know where you went, or they’d already be here. They’ll have a lot of ground to cover to locate you, and even when they do, they need a judge to give them a warrant. And if it comes to that, I will call—”
“I don’t want you to have to call your dad for me.”
He presses a finger to my mouth. “My uncle,” he says. “I’ll call my uncle. He’s the Minister of Justice here in Russia—he’s literally the boss of all the judges in the country.”
Oh. Well. That’s nice.
“Please calm down. It’s going to be alright.”
A single tear rolls down my face, and I wipe it away quickly, but Gavriil sees it, and he stands up. He pulls me to my feet, and his arms wrap around me, holding me tightly.
There’s a horrible whinnying scream behind us, and then a whamming sound. We jump apart and look through the glass of the door. Quicksilver’s throwing himself against the stall door and screaming. His eyes are wild, his nostrils flaring, and he starts striking the inside of the door with his hooves.
“That horse is possessed,” Gavriil says. “We should call a priest to perform an exorcism or something.”
But it’s almost like he was watching us, and when Gavriil crossed a line. . . I move away from Gavriil and wave to Quicksilver. He stops banging on the door and hurling himself against the stall, but he’s still watching intently.
“I think—”
“If you can loan me money in the morning,” I say, “I’ll take it. I’ll release him into the woods, send him on his way, and then I’ll get out of here.”
Gavriil shakes his head. “I think it’s a bad plan, but I’ve never had any luck telling you what to do.”
I can’t help smiling about that. “Don’t worry. No one else has either.”
He sighs, but he doesn’t argue any more. At least, not right now.
“Oh,” I say. “Can I borrow your phone?”
“Of course.” He pulls it out of his pocket. But when I call them, neither Kristiana nor Mirdza answer. In fact, both the calls go to voicemail. It’s a little deflating. I sort of thought they’d be waiting by the phone. I was hoping maybe one of them could wire me money, and I wouldn’t have to impose on poor Gavriil. I leave them both messages, telling them I’m at the racetrack and that they can call me back at this number. Mirdza’s met Gavriil, so she’ll be able to guess that I’ve found some kind of help. Maybe that’ll help her sleep easier.
Gavriil looks at his phone. “I’ve got to meet with a few grooms.” He opens the office door. “I’ll make sure they bring some feed for this one. Any idea what he’s been eating?” He’s glaring at Quicksilver, who’s not looking very happy, either.
His ears are pinned to his head, and he’s tossing his head at Gavriil.
I walk him through what we’ve been feeding him. “Don’t take it personally,” I say. “The attitude, I mean. He acts like this with literally everyone but me.”
“Were all the grooms there male?”
I nod.
“Maybe he was abused by men,” Gavriil says. “Or maybe his last owner was a woman who was abused by men.”
I’d never even thought of that. “Almost every horse problem. . .”
“Is a human problem,” Gavriil finishes.
At least he knows that. It’s sadly very, very true.
“Before I get started on all that, I’ll take you to my apartment. It’s not far, and you’re welcome to take a shower and change into some of my pajamas.”
Quicksilver freaks out again, this time worse than the last.
“I might stay in here with him. It’s a new place, and I’m leaving. I think it’s freaking him out.”
“Are you sure you’ll be safe in there?”
“He bit me once,” I say, “but other than that, he’s never hurt me. He’s had plenty of chances.”
Gavriil doesn’t like it, I can tell, but he doesn’t say. The only person I ever let win an argument is a horse, and even that’s rare.
I open the stall door a crack and slide through. “You’re lucky I love horses, mister, because otherwise, I’d have just walked away and let you break your leg kicking the wall.”
He looks smug.
I’ve never seen a smug horse, but there’s a first time for everything, I suppose. He bumps me with his nose, and I rub him under his chin. Then I slide my hand up, along his jaw, and scratch under his dark, thick mane.
“How do you keep so clean?” I ask. “I’ve never known a grey who wasn’t covered in poop stains.”
He snorts.
He does seem to only be going in the corner—I’ve heard that about stallions, that they’re way neater than the usual horse.
“You really do seem to be listening to me.” Actually, this is what we were talking about when I saw Gavriil earlier. I’d just tried to release him, and he’d refused to go. “One thing I was just telling my friend is that, after he loans me some money, I can finally honor my promise to you. I can set you free.”
He freezes.
There’s no doubt in my mind that this horse understands what I’m saying. Maybe not every word, but at least some of it. “On the day we met, when you saved me, I promised that after I was safe, I’d release you.”
He’s still not moving, not even a single twitch.
“But I tried earlier, and you didn’t go. Then you walked right into this stall.”
His head turns slowly, and he presses his nose against my hand.
“Listen, Quicksilver, no one loves horses more than I do, and the fast ones—I love them most of all.” I rub his nose. “But we’re in a country called Russia right now, and I live in a place called Latvia. There’s not a good way, without a lot of paperwork for you, that I can take you back with me. Even then, there’s a quarantine.”
Horses are a little hard to transport in the best of cases, and the last thing I want to do right now, with Leonid on my tail, is start filling out paperwork declaring a horse.
“You were free when I found you, and I intend to make sure you’re free when I leave. Instead of just shooing you away, Gavriil can help me. He’ll take you in a trailer out close to the steppe and release you there. Okay?”
Quicksilver spins around quickly, and now I’m staring at his butt.
“Are you asking me to scratch this?” Most horses love getting butt scratches. They can’t reach it easily, and if my butt was that big and beautiful and hairy, I’d probably long for a butt scratch, too. I do what any good horse girl does, and I reach out and scratch his butt with both hands, my fingernails digging in, especially right around the base of his tail.
At first, he jumps, like he was not expecting it, but then he does what horses always do and shifts a bit, then freezes, his neck stretching, his head lifting, lifting, lifting, and finally, his eyes closing.
“No horse can resist a good butt scratch.” I can’t help my laugh.
It startles him, though, and he spins back around.
“If you can just handle the stall in here for one night, I promise that before I leave on the train tomorrow, I’ll make sure you’re free and safe.”
Quicksilver starts to whinny, and then he whuffles, and then he makes one of the strangest horse sounds I’ve heard, a kind of grunting snort whinny.
I shake my head. “You are one odd animal. Surely you know that.”
He sighs, dramatically, like the whole world’s against him.
I pat his neck. “It’s going to be fine. I swear it is.”
When his dinner arrives, he tears into it. But when Gavriil returns to collect me, Quicksilver freaks out again.
“I hate that horse,” Gav says.
“Can you just bring my food in here?” I ask. “And maybe bring a sleeping bag? I think I’m going to have to sleep in here.”
“Did you sleep with him while you were breaking him?”
I shake my head. “But we’re both a little strung out right now, being on the run from not one, but two different groups. And, we can’t really afford to draw more attention to him.”
Gavriil doesn’t like it, but eventually he gives up again. When he brings me a sandwich, Quicksilver tries to eat it.
I swat him. “Stop. You have yours.” I shove him toward the hay. “Leave mine alone.”
He pins his ears, but he goes back to his dinner.
And after we’re done eating and I’ve had a quick bathroom break, I unroll my sleeping bag in the corner and lie down. Thirty seconds later, Quicksilver lies down too, right next to me. He sets his giant head close to mine and closes his eyes.
“I think that horse is insane,” Gavriil says. “I’m sleeping in the office, so if you need something, just shout.”
Quicksilver lifts his head and blows air right at him, as if to say, go away.
I’m tired enough that, even with the anxiety that we’ll be found, I go right to sleep. When I wake up, I’m curled up against Quicksilver’s side, my head resting on his shoulder. I sit up with a jolt, and realize that he’s watching me.
There’s just a little bit of light streaming through the side of the stall, so it must be close to dawn. I yawn and try to brush my hand through my hair. It’s such a disaster that I give up on that right away.
Even with the shavings, the night’s sleep did me a lot of good. I feel way better.
Until a man runs, shouting, into the barn. “Mr. Belov!”
Gavriil shoots out of the office. “What’s wrong?” he asks in Russian.
I hear him close the office door, but I’m not sure whether we should stay somewhat hidden or hop up and get ready to run.
“There are men outside. They’re claiming you’re harboring a stolen horse, and they say they’ve called the police.”
Gavriil swears under his breath. “It’s fine. I’ll call my uncle.”
“Don’t bother.” That’s a voice I know.
I leap to my feet, and I look over the edge of the stall. Quicksilver stands up behind me, too.
Sure enough, Kristiana and her fiancé Aleksandr, as well as Mirdza and her boyfriend Grigoriy, have followed the panicked man.
“Trust me,” Aleks says. “If you give us a moment alone with Adriana, we can make it so that this all just goes away.”
8
What on earth are they talking about?
I know Aleksandr’s wealthy, and I know he’s connected. But if anyone’s connections are going to help us here, it’s Gavriil’s. His uncle’s the Minister of Justice, for heaven’s sake.
“I’m going to call my uncle,” Gavriil says. “I think—”
Quicksilver screams, the loudest whinny I have ever heard, and instead of stepping back in alarm, Aleksandr and Grigoriy both smile.
And then they salute, which is really, really strange.
“Before you call in any favors, please give us five minutes,” Aleks says. “In fact, you can go tell the people who are causing the problem that they have the wrong place. You do not have a large grey horse here, not anywhere. Tell them that, and invite them to search.”
The man who came running over, shouting, looks totally incredulous. “But there is a large—”
“You want me to lie?” Gavriil asks.
“Trust me,” Aleksandr says.
“But I don’t.” Gavriil folds his arms. “I don’t even know you.”
Aleksandr glares at him, and it’s actually pretty scary. “Give me five minutes, or I’ll be forced to do something I don’t want to do.”
A chill runs up my spine—I’ve never thought Kristiana’s fiancé was particularly threatening. . .until now.
Gavriil must agree, because he stops arguing, and he and his groom duck out the side, presumably going to buy us a few minutes.
“What’s the plan?” I ask. “Do you have a trailer or something? Because I bet at this hour, there’s no traffic at all, and I know there’s a dirt road that—”
“Adriana,” Kristiana says.
I lift my eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“Hush.”
Aleksandr opens the stall door and walks inside, completely unafraid that the enormous, insane stallion in the stall will attack him. I jump between them, throwing up both arms, my back to Quicksilver. “I should warn you. This horse isn’t at all broke, and he gets pretty aggressive.”
Aleks ignores me, ducking around my arms, and Quicksilver doesn’t bite or kick or even pin his ears. He leans in, and Aleksandr hugs his neck.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “Do you know this horse somehow?”
“Do me a favor,” Aleks says. “Press your hand against his neck.”
“But—”
“Just do it,” Mirdza says softly. “Please.”
I open my mouth to argue, but they’re all looking at me so expectantly, like they know some secret that will just blow my mind. If they would listen long enough, I could tell them that he knows Russian letters and wrote a swearword in the dirt. Or I could tell them that he listens to what I say and responds. But since they know everything already, whatever.
“Fine.” I press my hand against Quicksilver’s neck. “Now what?”
“Repeat after me,” Aleksandr says.
“Okay.”
“I wish,” he says.
“I wish,” I say.
“That you were a human instead of a horse.”
I drop my hand. “Of all the stupid—”
“Just say it.” Aleks grabs my wrist and shoves it back up until my hand’s touching Quicksilver’s back. “But touch him while you do.”
I roll my eyes, but I just repeat the weird phrase. “I wish you were a human instead of a horse.” I’m dropping my hand as I say, “But who would want that? Everyone knows that a horse is way better—”
Only, something weird happens, like a clap of thunder, but not loud. It’s like a clap of thunder might feel. . .and suddenly, Quicksilver is a man. A man with burnished golden hair, eyes the color of the sky, and a body that. . . I choke.
He’s entirely and completely naked, and his body is glorious.
“Finally,” the naked man who used to be a horse named Quicksilver says.
As if he’s been waiting for the chance to talk for more than a week. As if this is totally expected. As if everyone already knew that he was actually a man.
Which is insane.
But, a little voice in my head asks, is it really any crazier than fireballs, lightning bolts, and a horse who understands everything I say? A horse who gets jealous when another man touches me?
If I’m being honest, this may be the thing that makes the most sense of anything that’s happened to me in a while.
Grigoriy steps forward and thrusts a bag toward the naked man. The man takes it gratefully and begins dressing. I probably should avert my eyes. Kristiana would avert her eyes. My sister Mirdza would definitely avert her eyes, but that’s not who I am.
I’m the kind of girl who stares at anything amazing as long as I can.
