Protector of the Flight. Robin D. Owens

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      Bastien sent a loud mental message that showed the stables. Once again the volarans began to move to the large building at the opposite end of the Landing Field. Calli blinked. Was that really the stables? It was huge. Big enough to house every volaran here, for sure.

      They walked through a corridor of volarans, with people standing behind the winged horses, staring. The folks wore a mixture of expressions. Everything from irritation and resentment to…awe? She didn’t want to be awe inspiring.

      As Calli passed, she felt soft muzzles sliding against her, sniffing. Once again overwhelming approval came as she sensed the volarans’ feelings. She smelled wonderful. Different. She’d flown with Thunder and smelled of him, too, and the mixture was lovely. She smelled sweet.

      Calli stopped. Sweet?

      Bastien chuckled, as if he heard the volarans. “Ayes,” he said, nodding. “Doose.”

      She didn’t think of herself as sweet. Tough, practical, with horse sense, but not sweet.

      Sweet. Thunder pranced by her side. I will get the best stall, with plenty of wing space.

      She stared at him, turned to Bastien. Thunder turned his head, too, and squinted at Bastien.

      Bastien grinned, showing flashing white teeth. Though he smelled of man and volaran sweat, he looked none the worse for battle…except there was dark, nasty goo on his right sleeve. He nodded. “Ayes.” He held up one index finger. “Calli.” Then he held up the other forefinger. “Thunder.” He linked them.

      Calli frowned and used wide hand gestures. “Why does Thunder get the best stall?” She said it loudly and flushed. As if speaking loudly would make someone understand your language. She lifted her shoulders high and spread her palms up.

      Bastien just winked and kept walking. Thunder said, Because I partner with you, I am the most important volaran.

      That was a little scary. She caught up with Bastien and entered the most luxurious stables she’d ever seen, but didn’t have time to linger because of the press of volarans and Chevaliers behind her.

      Babble and grooming sounds rose throughout the stables as the Marshalls and Chevaliers spent time with their volarans. Great waves of relief and love blanketed the big building. No sooner had Calli entered the large stall with Thunder and Bastien than the strikingly handsome Chevalier she’d seen during her healing leaned over the stall’s half door.

      “Salut, Bastien,” he said, looking at her.

      Bastien snorted. “Salut, Faucon.”

      Smiling, Faucon said, “Prie introd moi?”

      With a tilt of his head, Bastien replied. To her surprise, Calli found a wash of brotherly love coming her way from him. It startled and touched her. How could he like her so soon?

      Because Thunder told Alexa and me of your flight and Alexa likes you. Bastien spoke more in Equine and images—Thunder’s idea of their flight, Alexa with her arm around Calli—but Calli got it. She turned to the back of the stall and blinked rapidly. The outpouring of feeling toward her today was nothing she’d ever experienced. Even when her fans at the rodeo yelled or clapped, it was nothing compared to this. This warmth sent to her was personal, based more on who she was than what she was…an Exotique. The Chevalier Exotique.

      There was a brief conversation, with Bastien smiling but contrary, and the handsome man moved on with irritation in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

      Then Bastien and Calli worked together. She had no trouble recognizing the standard implements hanging from the stall sides, but when she took them down, she found them a little different. The brushes were made of something she didn’t recognize—something for the feather-hide of the volarans. There was also a faint sheen on the fine bristles—oil for the feathers. Furthermore, the tools tingled in her hands. Magic.

      Grooming the horse part of Thunder went easily. They paid special attention to the hide under the wings. Thunder’s mind lightly touched both hers and Bastien’s and he helped her.

      The stall was much wider than usual and she found out why when Thunder moved to one side and stretched out a wing. Calli looked at it nervously. Shouldn’t he be able to clean them himself?

      Thunder snorted. You.

      Bastien took down a couple of fancy brushes and they flared in his hands—more magic. With exaggerated motions he taught Calli to groom the wings. He started with the undersides and moved with incredible gentleness from where the wings attached, outward to the tips of the feathers. Watching closely, Calli wasn’t sure that the brush actually touched the feathers at all, more like some sort of aura or field. Or something. She saw, she felt, but she didn’t have the words to describe.

      Yet there was a connection here, mind to mind with Thunder. Working with her hands, the brush, stroking the winged horse, made this dream seem all too real. Thunder’s muscles flexed under her fingers. The stable was full of odors—volaran sweat, human sweat and an occasional whiff of something Calli thought might be volaran shit. Not too smelly for her, but then, horse shit didn’t bother her much, either.

      By the time Marrec had sold his kill to an assayer south of Castleton and flown back to the Castle, he and Dark Lance were exhausted.

      Don’t like this long day. Dark Lance blew out a breath.

      “I don’t, either, but we must plan for the future.” If he lived long enough to have a future. One thing was certain, his bargaining skills were too damn rusty. He should have gotten more for his haul.

      He’d been stuck in a rut, living the life of a soldier attached to a Lady, with no home, no land of his own. Had somehow lost that dream. Had been spending his pay and not always collecting his kills, and taking those he had claimed to the Castle Assayer who paid a lower price. “We’ll fight until we have a stake good enough for land of our own. You’d like your own land, right?”

      Yes, but Castle is good. Walking toward the stables, Dark Lance whuffled in Marrec’s hair. Back.

      “Yes,” Marrec said. “Thank you for coming back.”

      Warm. Good food. My place low in Volaran Valley herd. Mares no look at me. My place with you high.

      “The highest. And I’ll find a mare in season for you.” Any vow was worth having his volaran stay. Dark Lance had become his highest priority.

      Too big and ugly in Volaran Valley herd.

      Surprised, Marrec stopped and looked at his steed. He was large for a volaran, but any human would consider him a good-looking flying horse. His hide and wings were solid black, with each wing feather outlined in silver. He stroked Dark Lance’s neck. “You are beautiful.”

      Humans think so. Not volarans. He rolled his dark eyes and they looked sly. You will show me to the lady of volarans and she will think me beautiful. Then I will get higher place here. And a mare.

      Marrec laughed shortly. Like master, like volaran. He was considering ways to gain status and wealth himself. “I’ll do that.” He inhaled deeply. “I’ll introduce you to the Exotique, but she will be fighting, too.” If she really was for the Chevaliers.

      Lady inside СКАЧАТЬ