The Paralyzed Duke’s Horse Called Him a Liar—Only I Could Hear It

Chapter 2

I pulled my boots on over bare feet, grabbed my shawl, and went down the servants’ stairs two at a time. I knew better than to run in a great house at night. I also knew that when a horse sounded like that, furniture was the least of my problems.

The stable yard lay silver under a moon that had just come out from behind the rain. Wet stone, wet hay, cold air that smelled of river and iron. Cinder stood at his stall window with his ears pricked forward, his eyes fixed on the old training ring beyond the stable — the round pen with its leaning fence, where nobody had worked a horse in years.

I stopped in the shadow of the arch and looked.

There was a man in the ring.

Not a shape. Not a rumor. A man, walking.