Regina Rising Page 5

  My father was outside, tightening the girth around the mare’s slimmed-down belly. “You should have seen how easily she took the bit,” he said. “I’ll say she’s more than ready for a ride.”

  He boosted me up, and while I waited for him to mount his steed, I leaned forward to run my fingers through a small tangle in Hwin’s mane. Not long ago, I would weave white flowers into her mane and parade her around the meadow. Even without the flowers, she looked like a princess’s horse. Her bay coat gleamed a glossy dark brown, and Jesse had painted her hooves with polish so they matched her black mane.

  I sat quietly in the saddle as the mare danced in place, doing a jig. Her ears swiveled around, flicking to and fro as she craned her neck, looking behind her for her baby.

  “Don’t worry, Hwin,” I said, stroking the mare’s silky neck. Her muscles rippled under her skin and she twitched, anxious about her first ride with her colt in tow. “He’s coming, too.”

  The colt was stunning, just like his mother. Rocinante was a dark bay, and he had inherited his mother’s blaze. He had a stubby tail that wasn’t long enough yet to keep flies off, so he moved next to Hwin, who swished her tail over both their bodies. He cocked his sweet head and watched our every move with his liquid brown eyes.

  “It won’t be long till we get to go on longer rides, but for today, we will take it easy,” I said, thinking he’d surely enjoy coming along with us to explore the world a little. My father and I squeezed our legs against our horses’ sides and they moved into smooth walks, little Rocinante keeping up with his mother the entire length of the fence.

  “We’ll be back soon,” my father called to Jesse as we marched the horses through the flat, open field.

  Every so often, Hwin tugged on the bit. The reins slid through my fingers as I sat astride her. She blew out a breath, snorting and bobbing her head. She wanted to gallop, that much was clear, but she knew Rocinante wouldn’t be able to keep up.

  “You can go ahead if you’d like, Daddy.” His horse was young and fast, and I was more than happy to stay back with the other two while his steed ran.

  “You’re sure you’ll be all right?” he asked.

  I smiled. “Of course. Now, go!”

  He made a clicking sound with his tongue and loosened the reins. He gave his horse a kick and they took off for the rolling hills that bordered our estate. Rocinante began trotting, and his mother picked up the pace. I chuckled out loud at the look of determination in his eyes. We circled back around and entered a small patch of pines.

  Suddenly, Hwin let out a panicked whinny. I wasn’t sure what exactly had happened—maybe she’d lost sight of her baby for a moment—but she abruptly turned, and before I could react, I felt the sensation of my body flying through the air and coming into contact with something hard. It knocked the wind out of me and I struggled for breath as I lay on the ground. “It’s all right,” I said to the horses, fighting my instinct to cry as pain seared through my body. “I’m all right.” Hwin stayed close by me, even when Rocinante decided to chase a pair of butterflies beyond the patch of trees.

  I reached up to wipe the dirt and pine needles off my face, and I was shocked to see blood on my hands. Oh, no, no, no….I tried to keep my eyes open, and I attempted to sit up, but the world was spinning. Just as everything went dark, I heard the sound of hoofbeats and my father calling, “Regina!”

  “What is it? What happened to my daughter?” I heard my mother’s voice, but it sounded muffled, as if I were underwater. I recalled hearing my father say something about my having fainted, and another man’s voice assuring him it wasn’t unusual for people to faint at the sight of their own blood.

  I peeled open my eyes, trying to get them to focus. I was in my room, in my bed. The light was low and candles were lit, so I figured it must be dusk or even later. My mother shoved my father out of the way. I blinked two or three times as she leaned over my bed and placed her clammy palm on my throbbing forehead.

  “I said, what happened?” she demanded.

  Giles, our family doctor, stood at the opposite side of the bed from her and adjusted his spectacles. “There was an accident,” he started.

  “Well, of course it was an accident,” she said with a subtle snort. “Regina would never harm herself on purpose.”

  He slid his glasses up his nose again. “Yes, right. I’m afraid young Regina got thrown by a horse.”

  “Thrown by a horse?” my mother repeated, turning from the doctor to her husband. “How could this have happened, Henry? I thought you’ve been working with her on her horsemanship. All those hours, all the dust-covered pants and mud-splattered boots. And where were you while our daughter was off…getting thrown?”

  From where I lay, I could see the sweat beading on my poor father’s brow. Behind my mother’s back, I caught his eye and shook my head ever so slightly. He swallowed hard. “I was with her, Cora. It happened so fast.” He held out his hands, palms up, and added, “There’s nothing I could have done to prevent it. You know if I could have, I would have. It pains me to see our darling daughter hurting.”

  “I see,” my mother said in that horrible way that meant she didn’t understand at all, and someone was going to pay.

  “It’s all right, dear. She’s going to be fine,” my father said. He reached out to touch her arm, but she shrugged away and leaned over me again.

  “It’s true, Cora,” said Giles. “A few scrapes and bruises is all. This cut here,” he said, pointing just above my lip, “is the deepest one. I’ve treated it with a potent salve, but chances are, it will leave a scar.”

  “A scar?” my mother asked, leaning in even closer. Her upper lip curled as she examined my face.

  Giles nodded. “A small one. Barely even noticeable. There’s plenty of salve here, so she can apply it morning and night.”

  “Thank you, Giles. Is your work here done?” she asked.

  He cleared his throat. “I suppose it is.”

  “Very good. Rainy will see you out.”

  Not long after the doctor left, my mother smoothed back my hair and opened her palms. “No daughter of mine will have a scar marring her beautiful face,” she said through clenched teeth. A purple cloud formed in her hands, and my father stepped back until he was flush against the wall.

  In my woozy state, I mumbled, “What is it, Mother? Do you think no king will take me as his queen if I have a scar?”

  The purple cloud grew and rose into the air. Once it started floating across the foot of my bed, I closed my eyes tightly. As a tingling sensation skimmed over my skin, I heard her voice, but it sounded like it was far away: “Oh, Regina. That’s not it at all. Whenever you looked in the mirror and saw your scar, you’d remember the horrible experience of falling off a horse. You’d recall how it felt to not be in control of your own destiny. I did it for you, Regina. Don’t you know by now? Everything I’ve done, and everything I do, is for you.”

  As soon as the tingles passed, I opened my eyes and saw her calm face. “Henry, bring us a mirror,” she ordered. “There’s one in the drawer in her vanity.”

  My father did as he was told. I gazed at my reflection in the looking glass. Thanks to magic, it appeared I hadn’t had an accident at all. My face was as flawless as ever before.

  “See, Regina? You’re still the fairest of them all,” my mother assured me.

  Before she left me for the night, I said, “Hwin was only protecting her foal. She didn’t mean to hurt me. She’s a wonderful horse, and a good mother.”

  “I’m sure she is,” my mother said, and with that, she blew out my candles.

  All night long, I had nightmares, forcing me to relive the horror of falling off Hwin. In the wee hours of the morning, I awoke in a tangle of damp bed linens, and, staring at the underside of my canopy, forced myself to stay awake. I couldn’t imagine getting up on Hwin’s back again, and yet, I knew if I didn’t, I would have to live in fear for the rest of my years.

  A strange grunting noise came fr
om beyond my open bedroom door. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and made out the shape of my father’s beloved bloodhound sitting on his haunches in the hallway. “Why aren’t you sleeping, Thaddeus? It’s too early for breakfast.” He grunted again, and I wondered if he was asking me the same question.

  “I’m going for a ride.” Saying the words aloud, even if only to a dog, made my heart race and my hands sweat. “Don’t tell anyone.” He tilted his big brown-and-white head and then ambled back in the direction of my parents’ chambers.

  I padded over to my wardrobe and got dressed. The rooster hadn’t yet crowed, and the sun hadn’t yet climbed above the horizon. I thought if I waited, I might lose my courage. If that happened, I would never be able to get back up on the horse.

  Once I entered the stable, little Rocinante trotted over to greet me, and I happily rewarded his friendliness with a handful of oats. I lightly stroked his muzzle as Hwin eagerly joined in. “I’m going to take your mama on a ride,” I said to the foal. Hwin held her head up high and twitched her ears. “Are you surprised, sweet mama?” I laughed, but I admit it sounded like a nervous titter even to my own ears. “I guess I’m a little surprised, as well. Come, let’s get you ready.”

  I’d watched Jesse prepare the horses enough times to know exactly how to do it, and in no time, Hwin was tacked up. “Let’s do this, my friend,” I said as I mounted her and sat astride her back. We took off in a walk, and slowly and smoothly progressed into a canter. She obeyed my every command with impressive precision, and though my heart beat hard, I finally started to relax into her. It was as if we weren’t two, but one. Everything about it—from the early morning wind in my hair, to the feeling of being in this together with her, and, perhaps most importantly of all, the triumphant, powerful feeling that came from having conquered my fear—made me feel like I was flying.

  The sun rose, washing the sky in orange and pink, and begrudgingly, I knew I’d best get home before my parents or a servant noticed my absence. As I slid from the saddle only moments later, I said, “We will ride again soon, Hwin.”

  Later that day, after I’d finished the last of my school lessons, I returned to the stables. Little Rocinante was whinnying—a high-pitched, scream-like sound, as if he was in agony. “Jesse, what’s wrong with him?” I asked. “Why is he scared? Put him in the stall with his mother, maybe that will help.”

  The stable boy stopped sweeping and looked up at me. His face was unusually pale. “Regina, I really don’t think you should be here right now.” He glanced at Hwin’s stall and grimaced. “Please, go back to the house and don’t come back until later this evening.”

  “Is something wrong with Hwin?” I peered over the stall door and my breath hitched. Hwin was flat on her side, unmoving. “Is she…?” I couldn’t bear to finish my question.

  Jesse leaned on the broomstick and nodded miserably. “I don’t know what happened. She seemed perfectly healthy last night.”

  And perfectly healthy early this morning, I added in my reeling mind. Yet there she was, dead.

  I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it.

  All I could think to do was run. I fled across the meadow and up a tree-covered hill until I had to stop, unable to breathe for the heaviness of my heart. Unwittingly, I’d returned to the very place of the accident. The soil, grasses, and wildflowers were smashed and upturned, and I spied dark brown splatters of my dried blood here and there. One of the yellow ribbons that had been in my hair dangled from the underside of a bush. I pulled it out, but it was frayed and dirty, and I was sure Rainy wouldn’t want her daughter to have it back in such condition. I wasn’t sure how long I sat against a tree, its pine needles pricking into the backs of my head and spine, before my father finally came for me.

  “Daddy,” I choked out between a fresh batch of sobs. He knelt beside me, and I placed the ribbon at his feet. Although he knew nothing about the ribbon, he shook his head sympathetically and rubbed my sore back. “Oh, Regina, I’m so sorry. I thought you’d be in the stables, so I went looking for you there. I saw what happened to poor Hwin. What a tragedy! We’ll get through this together. You have to believe me. Chin up, my child.” With that, he lifted my chin, and at that moment, I spotted the second ribbon. A robin must have swiped it, as it was woven into a nest high above our heads.

  “Come, it’s time for the evening meal,” my father said, helping me to my feet. “The cooks have prepared something special for you.” After we both dusted off our clothes, I placed my hand in his and gave the site of the accident one last glance. I was about to go back for the ribbon, but before I could, the robin swooped down and scooped it up in her dainty black beak. It’s just as well, I thought as we made our way home.

  “Why are you two late?” Mother demanded as soon as we washed up and entered the dining hall.

  “The most horrible thing happened, Mother.” I dabbed my tears with the linen napkin before spreading it in my lap. “Hwin. She’s…she’s…”

  “She is no longer with us,” my father finished for me.

  I threw myself into my mother’s arms, and I felt her take a sharp breath. “I’m sorry to hear that, my dear. I know you loved that horse.” She gave my back a couple of pats and then held me at arm’s length. “At least this way, she won’t cause you harm, ever again.”

  I sat in my place at the dining table with my hands in my lap, as my belly was too upset to eat. I noticed my father’s appetite wasn’t the same, either, and he only ate about half of his turkey.

  On the contrary, my mother seemed to relish her meal, and it made me question if she truly cared Hwin was dead. She finished every last ladylike bite, and after dabbing her lips with the fine linen napkin, she said, “How nice it must be to have such good food on the table every day. When I was your age, we often had nothing but beans.” With her right eyebrow arched, she looked at me from across the table.

  I did not know what she wanted me to say, so I tried the only thing I could think of. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

  Monday, May 8

  It had been two days since I’d seen Claire, and I was beginning to miss her. As the hours trudged along, I began to worry. Had I scared her off with my talk about magic? Had she decided not to come around anymore? I wasn’t quite sure how the rules of friendship worked.

  One thing was going my way, though. My parents suspected nothing of our run-in with the blind witch. I’d been mindful of keeping my bruised arm hidden from view until it healed, which it had almost entirely, thanks to the salve Giles had given me years ago after I’d fallen off Hwin.

  Not long after my parents and I had taken our morning meal, I retired to the living room to read a book while Thaddeus snored at my side. He suddenly lifted his head, a stream of drool dripping from his mouth. A second later, I heard it, too: the sound of horses pulling a carriage up our drive. The bloodhound promptly went back to his business of napping while I scrambled to my feet and dashed to open the front door, beating Solomon.

  Giles’s white carriage and two gray horses lurched to a stop. The carriage door swung open and Claire stepped out and down. She wore a rosebud-patterned shawl around her shoulders and a smile on her face. Once we greeted each other, she placed a small, flat parcel in my hands.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  “I washed and mended your riding jacket. It’s not good as new, but I did my best.” After I gave her a hug, she said, “I’ve something to show you. Fetch your hat and gloves. I’ll wait for you outside.”

  “What is it? Where are we going?” I asked.

  She grinned. “It’s a surprise.”

  Pleased I’d be getting to spend some time with my friend, I ran up to my room, where I dropped off the parcel and selected my amethyst hat with the wide brim. I was putting it on with the mirror’s guidance when my mother entered my room. A chilly air accompanied her. “I’ve always been partial to that hat,” she said. She reached over to give it a stylish slant and tucked a tendril of hair neatly behind
my ear. She then stepped back and scrutinized me, her countenance resting in the murky area between somewhat displeased and mildly satisfied. “It’s a little large for going to market, though, don’t you think.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Though my body was tense, I gave her as warm a smile as I could manage.

  “I didn’t realize that’s where we are going,” I said, making no movement to exchange it for a different hat. I pressed my fingernail into the palm of my hand, hoping she wouldn’t forbid me from going with Claire. “I believe Claire was trying to keep it a secret.”

  “Yes, well, I spoke with Giles’s coachman when he first pulled up. So, surprise,” she said flatly, waving her fingers in the air by my face.

  “May I go?” I asked.

  “You may.”

  “Thank you, Mother.” She stood perfectly motionless while I kissed her cheek. I left her standing in my room, her head turned to gaze out the window. Though I was tempted to run down the stairs, I didn’t want to give her any reason to change her mind about my going. So I held up my chin, pointed my toes, and ran my fingers lightly along the curves of the railing. Solomon was ready for me by that time and had the door open, and in turn, Giles’s coachman helped me into the carriage.

  “Have you ever been to the marketplace?” Claire asked when I sat opposite her. “That’s where we’re going.”

  I nodded, choosing not to let her know my mother had already spilled the beans, so to speak. “I have. It’s been a long time, though. My mother typically sends Rainy or one of her children to do our shopping.”

  When I was younger, my father and I would go and catch an acrobat act or a puppet show. Once, he bought me a crown an old lady had woven out of daisies. I wore the crown with enthusiasm and pride, until my mother saw it and said, “What is that on your head, Regina? You look like a silly peasant girl.” She’d reached over, plucked a single daisy petal, and flicked it into the air. The petal had performed a somber little dance, spiraling down, down, down to the floor. “One day, you will have a real crown,” my mother had said, “one of gold and jewels.”