Chapter III - Tame

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Bevan was struggling to catch Nightmare. Unbridled and indignant, the stallion was determined to hang onto his freedom. He cantered in huge, lazy circles, stopping every now and then to snatch a mouthful of grass when Bevan fell far enough behind.

The red-headed warrior had borrowed tack from a bay gelding — the only horse near to Nightmare's size. Now the only difficulty was holding the stallion still long enough to put it on him.

Temris watched at first. When the seconds had turned to minutes and Nightmare was still loose, he handed me to the older warrior, whom he called Colloe, and muttered, "Keep your knife on her. She's stronger than she looks."

I ignored Colloe as he palmed a blade and watched me like a trained hawk. It was far more interesting to see Temris approach Nightmare. I was hoping the horse would kick him, but the stallion was eerily placid when faced with his master. He blew out and nickered softly as Temris scratched his withers.

"Wasn't he lame this morning?" Bevan asked, slipping the reins over the horse's head.

"Yes, he was," Temris said dryly. "It seems there has been a miraculous recovery."

As if to illustrate that, Nightmare stamped a foot and swung his head into Bevan, who swore at him. I had to bite back a smirk, because I did not particularly like the young warrior, and the stallion was doing the gods' work, as far as I was concerned.

Bevan rubbed at his bruised arm and eyed the horse warily. "You think he fakes it?"

The warlord grinned. He looked almost ... proud. "Oh, yes. He has learnt that I will bring him in from the paddock and give him oats if he looks pathetic enough. But clever as he is, he still forgets sometimes which leg is supposed to hurt."

Bevan snorted. He finished tacking the horse while Temris kept a hand on his neck. Although the saddle was the wrong shape and the bridle had to be lengthened, it would pass for the league back to camp. Colloe walked me towards the horse, the knife blade resting on my hip as encouragement. Nightmare tossed his head when I got close, and his ears pricked forward as he took my scent.

"He likes you. That's unusual," Temris commented. He took me from Colloe, hooked an arm under my leg, and threw me onto Nightmare's back with annoyingly little effort.

In the seconds I sat alone on the horse, I debated whether to make a break for it. Bevan was holding the reins, or I would have done it in a heartbeat. Before I could decide, Temris had climbed up behind me and slipped an arm around my waist, both to hold me still and to keep me from falling. He was uncomfortably close. The message was clear — don't even think about it.

"Why do we have to share?" I asked him coldly. There was a spare gelding, after all, and the corpses on the ground would hardly mind if we borrowed one of their horses.

Bevan had passed him the reins, and he held them loosely in one hand, letting the stallion snatch mouthfuls of grass. We were waiting for the other warriors to load the injured man, Lothar, onto a horse, very slowly and with great care to avoid jostling his shoulder. It looked like Nightmare had snapped his collarbone.

Temris laughed. "If you think I'm letting you sit on your own horse..."

But I didn't give up easily. Sharing a saddle with someone was quite intimate, especially when that someone was male. "Why not? Nightmare could outrun any of these creatures."

"Nightmare, did you say? It suits him, I'll admit." He cocked his head to one side, thinking it over. "You're right. I could let you have a horse to yourself. But do I want to? No. It would be more trouble than it was worth. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't appreciate a nice warm body to keep the wind off."

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