Page 1 of The Stallion & The Tigress
CHAPTER 1
Autumn’s Eve
Aleksi surveyed the field covered withbrightly colored tents and the lines of horses staked to the groundaround them.It had taken him, Serge, and Pyotr four years ofplanning, scraping, and saving every piece of silver and gold theyhad earned working in the king’s stables, but they were here.Theyhad made it to the Autumn Festival held in this city on thesouthern shore of the Great Inland Sea with a string of fine horsesto trade, and with enough silver the fee for Aleksi to enter theraces.Races he meant to win on his stallion, Zolotoy, the lastgift his father, King Maksimillian, had ever given him.
He shaded his eyes and turned his gaze to theroad leading toward the palace gates as the low hum of men’s voicesrose to a loud buzzing as the crowd parted to either side of thepathway.Two young, unaccompanied women walked between the lines oftents and horses.In truth, the smaller, finer-boned woman walked.The taller woman strode straight for Aleksi’s tent with a surefeline grace, her ocher skirt swinging with purpose around thelength of her long legs.
Her hair was covered by a headscarf of green,gold, and red, and she wore her tunic of marigold yellow tuckedinto her skirt.A belt of plain leather cinched her slim waistwhere a leather sheath held a small blade.The only adornment shewore was a wrist cuff of etched leather on her left forearm.Noearrings dangled from her lobes, no jewels encircled the smooth,tawny skin of her neck, and not one of her long tapered fingersbore a ring.
She stopped no more than a pace from Aleksi,shoulders back and head high, and he knew why she wore no jewelry.No manmade adornment could ever match the crystalline brilliance ofher eyes.Cat-like in shape and heavily fringed with long blacklashes, they gleamed like cut emeralds flecked with gold in thesun’s light.
“Ladies.”Aleksi tore his gaze from themesmerizing green brilliance and dipped his head to the dainty,brown-haired, gray-eyed woman with a courtly smile.He’d learnedenough princely manners in his time at his father’s palace to bepolite and charming when needs be, and he had discovered therewards of politeness with women many years ago.“My name isAleksandr,” he said to the dimpling young woman who looked to havesome girl in her still, and then he turned his full smile on hercompanion, who was still young, but all woman.“How may I be ofservice?”
Piercing cat eyes held his beneath dark,shapely brows, taking his measure.Though no giant, Aleksi was talland broadly built, and he stood even taller under her scrutiny.Heliked women in general, and they liked him, but this one didn’tseem outwardly impressed.Perhaps because she was taller than mostwomen and stood eye to chin with him.Or perhaps it was herbearing, lithe and sure, and regal.Yet neither her nor hercompanion’s clothing suggested royalty.Though clean and free ofobvious mending, they were made of plain, well-worn linen.Therewasn’t a scrap of worm weave or embroidery on either of theirtunics or skirts, and they were two women—two exceptionally comelyyoung women—wandering through a field full of strange men withoutguards.
They didn’t seem to be pleasure women plyingtheir trade.There was no look of wanton invitation in either theirmien or their gazes.Aleksi reminded himself that the people ofthis city prided themselves on their freedoms of choice andmovement.
“I’ve been told of your golden stallion,” thejewel-eyed woman said in a low, smoky voice.“Is he for sale?”
Aleksi pushed a stubborn lock of hair backfrom his forehead and glanced over his shoulder at Zolotoy who hisfather had gifted him as an unbroken two-year-old the spring Aleksihad turned twenty and one.
“No,” he told her, “he’s not.Him I will rideto victory in the races and then pick one of the royal broodmaresfor him to cover and start my own line of horses that will rivaleven King Asad’s.”
Her brows quirked and the corners of hershapely mouth lifted.“Do you have a particular mare in mind?”
“Lasair, I believe she is named.The lastfilly by the king’s stallion Storm Chaser and the queen’s mare,Cloud Dancer.”
“Impossible,” she said.
Impossible was not a word Aleksi cared for,even when spoken in such an entrancing voice.“How so?”hechallenged.
“Lasair belongs to Princess Sahar, not herfather.Any stallion privileged to breed with Lasair will be chosenby the princess and no other, after they win the races.”
Aleksi laughed, quick and short.“You seem tohave a good eye for horses.Do you truly believe any mare couldbeat my stallion in a race?”
She smiled like a cat who had spied a fat,lazy vole.“Lasair is not any mare,” she said.
“You’ve seen her?”
“I have.”
“Is she as sleek and swift as they say?”
“She is.”
“And her mistress, the princess?”
The dove-eyed girl slid a sidelong glance ather companion whose piercing gaze narrowed on Aleksi.
“What about her?”
“Is she as beautiful and proud as theysay?”
Full, lush lips pressed into a thin line.“Doyou plan on winning her as well?”
“Now why would I want to win the princess?”Aleksi asked with a derisive snort.“A soft, spoilt, demandingroyal pain who’s so full of herself that she’s turned down everyoffer of marriage presented to her.”
She said nothing, and Aleksi closed the shortdistance between them, giving her his most charming grin.He had asgood an eye for women as he did for horses, and he intended toreturn to his home with a string of broodmares and a wife to proveto his father and the rest of his royal, full-blooded kin thatAleksi was not some round house dwelling half-breed, but aself-made man, as good as any of them.
