Page 43 of Beneath the Haunting Sea
An army of Dead things rising out of the sea, clothed in shadows, every one of them screaming.
Chapter Eighteen
SHE HAD BREAKFAST ALONE IN HER ROOMthe next morning, having no wish to run into Wen. The rain had stopped in the night, but there was still no hint of sunlight piercing the eternal clouds. A dreary grayness seemed to cling to the very stones of the Ruen-Dahr.
Talia sipped tea and ate sweet bread with raisins, staring down into the waves and trying to forget her dreams. Whatwere the chances, she wondered, of being betrothed to a man whose mother had also drowned? She pushed the thought angrily away. There was no connection between them—her mother had taken her own life. Wen’s had drowned by accident.
There was a knock at her door, and Ro poked her head in.
“I’m just finishing,” Talia said, thinking the maid meant to take her breakfast tray.
“Lord Estahr-Sol iswaiting for you in the stables, Miss. He said you’d arranged to have a ride?” The curiosity in Ro’s eyes belied the casual tone of her words.
Talia swallowed down her tea and brushed the crumbs from her fingers, her pulse quickening with excitement. Hehadremembered! “His horse is half-Enduenan. Caiden thought I’d like to have a look at him.”
Ro grinned. “I expect you would.”
Talia flushed,but couldn’t help smiling. “He’s just being nice.”
“Obviously.” Ro’s eyes sparkled. “Shall I do something with your hair?”
Twenty minutes later, Talia left the house and crossed the courtyard to the stable, wearing a deep-red gown with a split riding skirt, her hair pinned up in a coronet of elaborate braids. She toyed with the fingers of one of the late Baronesses’ white gloves, and tried toignore her nervousness.
She grasped the ring of the heavy wood door and slid it open.
The scent of hay and dust and horses assailed her senses, and she thought with a pang of home—she’d spent more time in the stable in Eddenahr than the palace, oftentimes with Ayah in tow. The Ruen-Dahr’s stable was small, with a low roof, four stalls, and a short aisle running to a door in the back, which Taliaassumed was the tack room. A single lantern hung from a beam in the middle of the ceiling, illuminating the whole space in a dim orange haze.
Caiden was lounging against the first stall, rubbing his gelding’s black muzzle. He glanced toward the door at her approach, and flashed her a smile. “I was wondering if you were ever coming. I’ll bring him out.”
He clipped a lead to the horse’s halterand unlatched the stall door, leading the gelding into the aisle. Talia approached the horse quietly so she wouldn’t spook him. He eyed her under long black lashes but didn’t shy away.
“I’ll get his tack,” Caiden told her, walking to the back room.
“Beautiful boy,” Talia whispered into the horse’s ear, stroking his tautly muscled neck. He was as magnificent as his master, and a thrill went throughher at the thought of riding him—here was raw power, barely contained. In her mind, Ayah made an inappropriate remark that had nothing to do with horses.
“He likes you,” Caiden noted, coming back with saddle and bridle.
“What’s his name?”
“Avial.”
“Where did you get him?” She kept petting the gelding as Caiden tacked him up, stroking his nose and velvety ears, tangling her fingers in his coarsemane.
“At the seaport last year. My father was angry at how much I spent on him, but I needed a good horse.”
“And he is that.”
Caiden grinned, cinching the saddle girth tight. “Well, Miss Dahl-Saida. Let’s see if you’re as good as you think you are.”
They brought Avial out to the drive and down a winding path to the seashore. Talia eyed Caiden at this choice, but he just shook his head, thereins looped around one hand. “I always ride down here. Don’t mind my father—he lives in a world of his own.”
“How old were you, when the second Baroness died?” she asked him, as he stopped to adjust Avial’s girth again.
He glanced up at her, patting the gelding’s flank. “Nine.”
“Do you remember much about her?”
He shortened Talia’s stirrups. “She was musical, like Wen, and a dreamer likehim, too.”
