Page 18 of The Stallion & The Tigress
“And lost,” Aleksandr added to raucouslaughter.“For the second time today.”
Sahar glared at Aleksandr before giving Yagoa quick grin of sympathy.She and Ratter had not been the onlywitnesses to what had happened in the stables, and she was sureevery person at the table, if not the palace, knew the story bynow, which Yago had to be aware of as well.He did not return hergrin, but turned away, the good side of his face impassive.Shedidn’t blame him.His pride had taken a beating today.
But then so had hers.
Yago’s accusation that Aleksandr had thrownthe race in order to assure her the win had left her, and likelyeveryone else, doubting her victory.She was not insensitive to thefact that in denying it, Aleksandr had stood up for her, but shecould not find it in herself to be grateful for his reaction, whichwas more likely due to Yago calling him a whipped cur.The manreally was an ill-mannered ass, who rode like the wind and whosekiss still gave her fever dreams.
“And now a toast.”
At the sound of her father’s voice, Saharyanked her gaze from Aleksandr’s mouth, flushing a little as thecorners of his full lips twitched up.
“To Princess Sahar,” her father said,standing and raising his goblet, “and her mare, Lasair, victors ofthe one league race.”
Sahar flushed even more as cheers of “To theprincess and Lasair” filled the courtyard.She stood and raised hergolden goblet to her father and then to the rest of the gatheringand took a long draught of wine, feeling the warmth spread from herbelly to her shaking legs.Fortified with liquid courage, shecleared her throat and held her half-empty cup up.
“To my father and mother,” she said, relievedthat her voice did not crack.“Who raised me to always do my best.To Storm Chaser and Cloud Dancer, who bred the love of racing intotheir daughter, Lasair, the last and fleetest of theiroffspring.”
She finished the last of her wine to morecheers and whistles and sat down, grateful to be done with therequired toast, and that her backside found her seat the first try.She wiped a fine sheen of sweat from her nose and forehead as aservant quickly filled her goblet and the king held his upagain.
“To Aleksandr and Zolotoy,” he said.“Who rana good race and placed a close second.”
Aleksandr stood, grinning broadly as he heldhis silver goblet up to the king.“To King Asad and Queen Oona, forhosting these events.”He held his goblet up to the gathering.“Tomy father, King Maksimillian, for gifting me with my stallion,Zolotoy, the fastest and strongest of a long line of Steppehorses.”He turned and held his cup up to Sahar.“To the victor,Princess Sahar, who made my second-place finish truly hard earned.”He grinned as she dipped her head in acknowledgement and he dippedhis in return.That damned shock of boyish hair fell over hisforehead.“Who I plan to beat soundly the next race.”
Laughter mixed with applause as he took hisseat and she grinned at him despite herself.He was a naturalshowman.He had spoken with a strong, sure voice, winning the crowdover with his easy charm and wit, and all without raising so muchas a single bead of sweat on his handsome face, whereas she coulddance and fight and ride in front of thousands without hesitation,but speaking in public made her go clammy from head to toes.
When the laughter and ribbing died down, theking held his cup up to Yago.“To the Wolf,” he said in a voice asformal as his use of the Wolf’s name.“Congratulations on placingthird.”
Yago stood stiffly to polite clapping.Heheld his goblet of copper up to the king with a slight dip of hishead and then to the gathering, the unbruised side of his face amask of princely propriety.“To my father, King Ox, and my mother,Princess Fox,” he said, “who taught me to persevere.”He turned toSahar, and the thin smile on his face did not reach his black eyes.“And to Princess Sahar on a well-run race.”
He resumed his seat as stiffly as he hadstood while those riders on his side of the table clapped a littletoo loudly and grumbled under their breath about cheaters andtainted victories.Instinctively, Sahar leaned away from Yago’s icybitterness and toward Aleksandr’s earthy warmth.
“Princess?”Aleksandr said.“Is theresomething I can do for you?”
“No, I…” Sahar shook her head and clamped herjaw tight.He was laughing at her, the cocky bastard.
“What is it?”he continued.“Have you figuredout that your prince is a whiney worm not worthy of you?”
“How dare you,” she hissed.
“How dare I what?”Aleksandr said in a lowwhisper.“How dare I tell a princess the truth?”
“Why you—”
“Princess Sahar?”
She glanced up at the maid servant holding aplatter of cheeses and fruits, the first of what was likely to be along seven courses.
“Thank you, Ursula,” she said.“You may startserving.”She rounded back on Aleksandr.“You,” she growled, “cango to your ancestors in a shroud of dung.”
He laughed before leaning in close, tooclose.“There’s my tigress,” he said in a low, intimate tone thatbrought the heat of his too-familiar gesture to her cheeks and madeher itch to claw his.
“Do not speak to me again,” she said.
“For the remainder of the meal or for alleternity?”
“Whichever lasts longer.”
The next day, two of the riders dropped outof the remaining races due to their horses’ injuries, which leftten and nine men and one woman following Brawn, the captain of theking’s guard.A swarthy desert man, he wore two blades on his beltand two short swords strapped to his back.Brawn, who lookedfamiliar, led them over the three-league course for the next racethree days hence.As victor and placers in the first race, Sahar,Aleksi, and Yago rode alongside the captain, with the rest of thefield spread out behind them in no particular order.
