The Lady snorted wetly over her hand. Briana grimaced and wiped it on her breeches.
She opened her mouth to say something appropriately cutting. The words never came. The Lady’s head had turned, her ears pricked.
Quintus was still outside Corcyra’s stall. Corcyra had roused abruptly and was circling in a way Briana had long since learned to recognize. Her body was tense and her mind focused inward. Her tail flicked restlessly. She pawed, paced then pawed again.
She went down abruptly. As she dropped, water gushed. Briana started forward but forced herself to be still.
The mare stiffened in spasm. The silver bubble of the caul appeared under her tail, with the foal dark inside. Briana saw the sharp curve of hooves—one behind the other—and the blunter shape of the nose.
It was all as it should be. Every one of this season’s foals had been, as if their ancestry protected them from the dangers of mortal birth. They were a white god’s get, sired by the stallion Sabata over the course of long summer nights.
The foal seemed to take a very long time to be born. It could not even be half a turn of the glass, or Quintus would have been in the stall, doing what needed to be done. Instead he stood with arms folded, watching calmly.
When half the foal was out, it broke the caul, scrambling with its front feet, digging into the straw of the stall. Its head was already up and seeking, its lips working. It butted its mother’s side imperiously, demanding the teat, though she was still racked with the pains of birth.
It was dark as all these god-begotten foals had been. There was a thumbprint of white on its forehead. When it dried, no doubt it would be black as Corcyra. Maybe it would stay black, or more likely it would turn grey as it grew, like its father.
Almost before the rest of it emerged from the mare, Briana knew it was a filly like all of its siblings. Even so new, it was a solidly built young thing, with a big square head and broad haunches.
That was its father’s legacy. So were the eyes that turned to her. They were preternaturally bright and focused.
One last, powerful spasm cast the whole of it in the straw. The mare lay for a moment, breathing hard. Then she raised her head, peering along her body at the wet and glistening thing that had come out of her.
Her nostrils fluttered. The filly stretched out her nose. They touched.
Briana’s throat closed. Maybe it was foolish, but that first touch, that moment of tender recognition, never failed to melt her heart.
The Lady’s breath tickled her ear. She pressed her cheek to the broad, flat red-brown one and trailed fingers down the soft muzzle.
The Lady had foaled in her time, Briana knew without words. It was a great thing, a blessed thing. The gods were glad because of it.
But now Briana had to be empress. Her hour’s escape had stretched too long. The empire would hardly fall about her ears, but it did need her hand to steady it—especially now that she was about to be crowned.
The Lady offered her shoulder, then her back. It would be ungracious to refuse the gift. Briana caught a handful of mane and swung astride.
Bareback and bridleless, she rode out of the stable into the sudden glare of daylight.
The outer court was full of people and horses. Most of the horses were stocky and grey or white, and most of the riders were dressed in grey or brown. They rode with a particular grace and quiet elegance that persisted even after they had dismounted.
Briana laughed for joy. Two of the riders turned together. They were shoulder to shoulder, and they were almost exactly of a height. One smiled, warmth flooding into silver eyes. The other grinned as wide and white as a boy, but there was nothing male about her.
“Kerrec!” cried Briana. “Valeria!” She hardly remembered leaving the Lady’s back or leaping toward them until she found herself with arms wrapped around both of them, hugging them tight.
Her brother let her go first and held her at arm’s length, searching her face keenly.
She had last seen him broken and half mad, all but destroyed by hatred and pain. Now he was whole again. He was beautiful.
Not that she would say such a thing—he was vain enough already. She settled for a grin and a deceptively ordinary word. “You’re looking well,” she said.
“And you,” said Kerrec. “The burden of empire agrees with you.”
“Not always,” she said wryly. “I’m running away this morning.”
“It looks as if you were running back when we came in,” Valeria said.
As Briana nodded, Kerrec caught her glance and held it. “Have you found anything?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Briana answered. “And you?”
“All’s quiet,” said Kerrec.
“They’re biding their time,” Valeria said.
“I’m sure they are,” said Briana. In due time she would find that troubling, but for the moment she let the joy of their coming overwhelm everything else.
The rest of the riders had hung back, but as she turned to face them, she met a circle of smiles and the occasional grin, with here and there an inclination of the head. Since riders never bowed to any mortal, that was as royal an obeisance as she was likely to get.
She bowed to them all as was proper and greeted the Master with deep respect. “Sir. You’ve come in good time.”
“So I gather,” Master Nikos said. “We go into seclusion in the morning, but tonight we’re still in the world. Perhaps, after all our day’s duties are done, we may dine together?”
“I’ll be honored,” Briana said.
“Tonight, then,” he said.
No other words were said, but as he withdrew to duties that she had no doubt were pressing, the rest of the riders scattered as well. Kerrec and Valeria stayed, but Briana could tell they were a little torn.
“Go on,” she said. “I’ll come back tonight.”
Valeria nodded and smiled, and embraced her quickly. Kerrec took more time about it, kissing her forehead before he let her go. “It’s good to be back,” he said.
Brianna’s eyes widened slightly. After all he had been through in or for Aurelia, that was remarkable.
It was wonderful. She kissed him back and sent him on his way.
The Lady was waiting, and so were her duties. This time Briana was glad to face them. The sooner she did that, the sooner she could come back to Riders’ Hall.
Chapter Twelve
Valeria should have been reassured. The city of Aurelia was warded with such strong magics that her head buzzed. Nothing short of a god could get through such protections—and whatever the barbarian priests were, gods they were not.
Now the white gods had brought the Mountain’s power to the city. The bay Lady had been there to welcome them, and she was stronger than all of them put together.
Everything that anyone could do had been done. The Dance would be safe. So would the empress.
And yet even in Riders’ Hall, with the stallions safe in the stable and the riders settled into their rooms, Valeria could not help feeling that they had all missed something. She could not begin to say what it was, but her mind kept reaching for some scrap of knowledge it could not quite find. Something, somewhere, was not as it should be.
She would mention it tonight when they were all