The day was uncomfortably warm. The scent of steed sweat mixed in with the nearby smell of the sea. Across it, a pasture of golden seagrasses waved in the wind, the sky above darkening. A storm would soon arrive from far across the sea. It would crash onto the shore like a maelstrom, and everyone in Soreia would head inside.
“Easy, Yima!” the head trainer shouted. “Don’t give him too much control of his head, or you’ll be thrown, too! We should head in. Call it for the day.”
Yima was one of the finest riders, from a noble family of steed breeders in eastern Soreia. Sonara watched from outside the pen, clicking her tongue as Yima, heavy in her blue scaled armor, climbed atop Duran’s back.
And dug her heels in deep.
“Not so easy,” Sonara murmured beneath her breath.
She saw the telltale shift as Duran’s ears flattened against his head, nostrils flaring.
Yima yanked on the bit as she clicked her own teeth at him. The steed’s sides were already bleeding from countless riders and spurs, his breath heaving as he fought against their control.
Sand kicked up against Sonara’s legs as Soahm appeared at her side, blue robes flapping in the wind.
He often left the castle during morning hours, but she hadn’t seen him in days. Their mother kept him in the castle for hours on end. Taking requests, calling on visitors, learning the ins and outs of what it meant to lead a kingdom, a whole room full of ancient councilmen and women droning on and on about goddesses only knew what.
It was a life Sonara had never wanted. Deserved? Half of her blood said yes.
But wanted? That was a very different sort of thing. She would rather stand here now, hair unbound and face freckled from the sun, the kiss of the sea upon her tanned skin. And the sound of hoofbeats pounding in time with her heart as Yima tried to gain control of Duran.
“I stopped by the betting house this morning,” Soahm said softly as he watched the steed crow-hop past. “I placed ten gold coins on Duran.”
“People are betting on whether or not he’ll be tamed?” Sonara sighed. The steed’s reputation had spread across the capital, then. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’d bet on him, too. He’s going to throw her. Any moment now.”
Soahm shrugged and leaned over the railing. “Looks like she’s got it under control to me. But, ah… isn’t watching Yima’s impending doom a fine way to spend your birthday?”
“My birthday,” she said with a frown.
She’d nearly forgotten.
Soahm laughed. Then he frowned, too. “I forgot to bring you a gift.”
“No gifts,” Sonara said.
Soahm looked at her as if he disagreed.
“No gifts, Soahm,” she said again.
“Of course,” he said with a wry smile, and pointed back at the round pen. “The height of the show.”
Duran snorted and huffed, tossing his deep black mane. Sweat foamed upon his neck and chest as he fought against Yima’s commands.
“I call it in three,” Sonara said. She winked at Soahm and held up three fingers.
Across from them, Yima dug in her heavy-booted heels and pulled the reins sharply to the right. Duran’s head turned with her, his body following chase… but Sonara could see him fighting, chomping at the bit.
“Two.” She dropped a finger.
“You’d better be right,” Soahm said.
Sonara smiled as Yima made the gravest mistake of all. She looked away from Duran’s head, for only a moment, as a flock of fowl soared past, searching for refuge from the oncoming storm.
Sonara pointed her remaining finger inside the round pen. “One.”
Yima’s body took to the sky as Duran launched her off his back.
She hit the sand with a heavy thump, armor clinking as the beast pranced to the corner of the round pen. He snorted and stomped his front hoof into the sand, proud as only a young steed could be.
“No one will tame this demon,” the head trainer said with a growl, while the others standing around, who’d been so hopeful before, groaned and booed as Yima brushed her armor off.
“I could,” Sonara said softly.
Soahm turned around, leaning his back against the round pen as he looked at her. “Truly?”
“The trainer is a fool. He’s not meant to be tamed,” she said. “His spirit is as wild as the wind.”
Some days she swore she could feel it, almost sense it in the gentle huff of his breath, when they sat alone in the stall, hidden from the judgemental eyes of the world.