The Twice-Scorned Lady of Shadow (The Guild Codex: Unveiled #3)(8)

Which really, really pissed me off.

Since then, I’d been trying hard not to think of him—and I’d been doing a pretty good job until Dominique had brought him up.

I refocused as we neared the auction building. Ahead, two stocky men in stained shirts were laughing together, and my fingers curled, aching to shove my switchblade between their ribs. Meat buyers, the heartless scum.

If killing them would’ve changed anything, I’d have done it. If leveling the auction building could’ve saved the horses, I’d have asked Ríkr to turn this whole place into an ice Armageddon. But it wouldn’t fix anything. There were a dozen livestock auctions within driving distance. The horses would simply be moved to another one and sold off the same way. Even if I could somehow take every single horse back to the rescue, we didn’t have the space, manpower, or money to care for them.

I breathed through a sharp-edged surge of impotence. I might have more power now, but not enough to change the things I really cared about. Although, I might figure out a way to make those meat buyers bleed before the day was over.

As Dominique and I were about to step through the open doors into the auction building, a distant frenzy of panicked whinnies erupted from the far end of the pens. We spun toward the sound.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

The commotion was coming from the same direction as the bay mare and the piebald gelding I’d examined.

“I’ll check it out,” I said. “You go in.”

She nodded, and I sprinted back the way we’d come. The farther I ran, the more agitated the trapped horses became—rolling eyes, pinned ears, jostling each other and the metal fencing.

“Who’s got a gun?” someone shouted.

“Hurry up and—”

The hoarse bellow of a stallion cut through all other sounds, and I pumped my legs faster.

The maze of fencing and pens ended abruptly, and a barren field stretched toward a line of trees, the forest spilling down from a mountain slope. A group of men, several wearing polo shirts with the auction facility logo, were shouting and waving their arms as though trying to scare something off. Another screaming cry erupted, followed by a resounding metal clang.

I expected to see a horse trying to kick its way out of a pen, so I was shocked to spot a black stallion smashing his way into a pen.

Not just any stallion.

His coat was as glossy as polished obsidian, and muscles rippled over every inch of his magnificent body. A mane like silk flowed down his arched neck, and his long tail streamed like a black banner. He had to be twenty hands tall, but he was built like a show jumper rather than a draft horse.

He was gorgeous—and he was angry.

Spinning in place, he kicked out with his back legs. His hooves slammed into the pen’s gate. It tore free and thudded in the dirt. The stallion charged into the pen, terrifying the five horses inside. He swerved around behind them, and with sharp nips of his teeth, he sent the horses racing out into the field.

He sprang effortlessly over the fence and into the next pen. Another double kick and another gate broke.

As he chased three more horses out into the field, I had the crazy thought that the stallion was rescuing the other horses. But no horse was that intelligent.

At least, not a mortal horse.

“That damn stallion is back!” a man shouted. “Kill him this time!”

The crack of a gunshot blasted my eardrums, knocking me out of my trance. A rancher aimed his rifle at the stallion and fired again—right as I grabbed the barrel, shoving it upward so he’d miss. I tore it out of his hands and ran, ignoring the men shouting at me.

With my ears ringing, I vaulted a fence, the rifle in one hand, and raced across the empty pen toward the stallion in the next one. His elegant black head whipped toward me, and his orange eyes blazed like burning coals.

Tossing the rifle aside, I jumped onto the fence and launched myself at the fae stallion’s bare back.

I landed across his back with a whuff of air leaving my lungs. Only because my sudden leap had surprised him did I have a chance to sit up and clamp my legs around his sides before he let out a bellowing scream and reared. He was even more vexed to have me as a rider than Tilliag had been.

Grabbing his mane, I threw a telepathic thought at him. You have to get out of here! They’re going to shoot you!

His head dropped, and I leaned back as he bucked violently.

I’m helping you! I shouted at him. With me on his back, the auction staff wouldn’t shoot—hopefully.

He spun in a tight circle, trying to dislodge me, then reared again, throwing his head back to try to smash me in the face. Front hooves kicking, he reared even farther until his back was vertical and I could barely hang on.

Men were running toward us. More guns. The moment the stallion threw me off, they’d fill him with bullets.

I grabbed him around the neck and shoved my face against his mane. Instead of words, I pushed my druidic power toward him, filling it with everything I felt—the desire to help, hatred for these humans who wanted to kill him, urgency, and fear.

The stallion dropped his front hooves to the ground, his sides heaving and both ears slanted toward me. I sat astride his back, breathing just as hard, my hands fisted in his mane.

A dozen feet away, three men had rifles aimed at us, and half a dozen more stood behind them, holding ropes and whips.

You’ve been causing trouble, haven’t you? I murmured. A man had shouted that the stallion was “back.” Had he tried to save horses before?