Page 14 of The Other Side

“A month.”

“Will is going to be thrilled to see you.”

“And you’re not?”

Fi offered a playful smirk. “Muck out those stalls and I’ll tell you.”

Osian walked into the stable block and retrieved a set of old, faded clothes from the top shelf of the tack cupboard. Fi didn’t know that he’d come back each year, but she left the clothes there in case. Once he’d shaken out the spiders and changed, he got to work. He’d been helping Fi for five of the years he’d been coming over; in return, she let him exercise the horses.

He’d just finished sweeping the aisle between the stalls when the rhythmic thud-tap of crutches echoed down the concrete.

“Osian!” Will’s face split into a wide grin.

“Hi, Will. How’s it going?”

“Still walking, so that’s something.”

Fi’s younger brother had cerebral palsy. Fortunately, it was mild and over the years Osian had known him, it had never managed to touch his cheerful spirit.

Will nodded toward the arena. “Do us a favour and take Rogue out? See if you can do something with him. He’s driving Fi mad.”

“Do I get a cup of tea first?”

Will smiled. “I’ll go and put the kettle on. Tell Fi to leave Rogue for a bit and come and join us.”

Osian finished the sweeping and walked back out to the arena. Rogue’s ears were pinned flat against his skull, the universal equine sign for I don’t like you. Keep your distance. Or else. When the bay suddenly swung away from Fi, nearly pulling her off her feet, Osian vaulted over the fence.

Fi braced herself as Osian approached, and stood perfectly still. When Osian drew near, the horse immediately veered away from both of them, head thrown high, muscles taut as piano wires. Fi barely managed to keep hold of him.

“He’s frightened,” she said, catching her breath.

“And offended by the mere existence of everyone around him, including the fence.”

She let out a breathless chuckle. “Rogue is a good name.”

“How long have you had him?” Osian moved forward slowly, keeping his movements predictable, letting the horse track him.

“Three weeks. He still bucks, rears, and bolts at absolutely nothing.”

Right on cue, Rogue attempted to whirl away. Fi calmly redirected him, but the horse snapped, rearing up on his hind legs and she dropped the leading rope. Reacting on instinct, Osian grabbed Fi and whisked her well clear of the descending hooves.

“Out,” he said gently but firmly. “Let me have a go. Will’s making tea.”

Once she was safely on the other side of the fence, Osian turned back to the vibrating horse. He didn’t attempt to grab the rope. He spoke quietly, his voice dropping into the low, melodic cadences of the Fae language.

“Rogue! No need to be afraid. Aren’t you being looked after? Fed, watered, sheltered? No one here will hurt you. Behave yourself.”

Rogue stepped on his foot. Ouch. He heard Fi give a horrified gasp. Fortunately, Rogue stepped off again.

“That wasn’t nice.”

But Osian knew Rogue could have hurt him a lot more than that. The horse was just letting him know he could hurt him.

Osian slid his fingers around the rope and Rogue watched him. When Osian didn’t do anything but hold the lead rope loosely, Rogue stayed still.

“Good boy. Well done.”

He asked the horse to walk, turn, and stop—over and over. Every time Rogue resisted, Osian reacted with quiet, immovable pressure. There was nothing dramatic about it, no force or anger. Just endless, exhausting patience. And Rogue absolutely hated it. Osian fought not to smile.