And as I looked at the silvery-white horse in the moonlight, all of the longing from my younger self came rushing back. It was like the feeling of first love mixed with the heart-pounding intensity of a dream long deferred, at last being granted.
I can be yours, the creature before me whispered in that soft, tempting voice. I can be all yours and you will be mine. We will belong to each other, Emma. We will ride all day and explore the Realms together and at night we will sleep under the stars. We will never be apart. Isn’t that what you want?
“Yes,” I whispered, taking a step towards the gorgeous horse. “Oh, yes, I want that. I’ve always wanted that.”
I was lifting a hand to touch it—to stroke the soft, velvety nose that was twitching just inches from my fingertips—when I heard Bran shout,
“Emma, what are you doing? Get back—get away from that. It’s a kelpie!”
“A what?” I half turned my head, frowning at him. What was he talking about? Why shouldn’t I touch the beautiful horse of my dreams who had finally come just for me?
“A brook horse,” the guy standing beside Bran said. “It must have come with me when O’Connor summoned me.”
He must be Lachlan, I thought. He was as tall as Bran and his shoulders were broad but he had more of a swimmer’s physique—lean and angular as opposed to bulky and muscular. His face was shockingly beautiful for a guy, with large, luminous green eyes ringed in black—(I could tell because they were glowing)—a straight nose and full, lush lips.
Heavy black brows and a strong jaw were all that saved him from being downright pretty and he had a shock of black, tousled hair that somehow made him look even more puckish. In his left ear he wore an emerald stud that echoed the color of his eyes.
“A what kind of horse?” I asked, after I got over his beauty.
“A brook horse. It wants you to climb on its back so it can take you to the nearest body of water and drown you,” Lachlan said in a bored tone, which seemed to indicate that he didn’t much care if I got drowned or not.
“And failing that, it will be happy to trample you,” Bran said urgently. “Emma, come away! Come back into the circle.”
I started to turn back towards them but then I heard that sweet, silvery voice in my head again.
Don’t listen to them, Emma, the horse whispered to me. They’re only jealous because I’m not offering to be their horse. They wish they could have me but they can’t. I am only for you.
The voice was so seductive and sweet and suddenly my head was filled with my own childish fantasies from years ago. I saw myself riding on the white horse as we traveled to magical realms, galloping over rainbows and cantering through moonlit fields at night. I saw the two of us together for always, spending the rest of our lives chasing the magic…
And then I realized I was touching it—stroking its smooth, white hide as tingles of power ran through my veins. It was like electricity—like fire when I touched the horse and it—no, he, I realized—seemed to feel it too.
He gave a surprised whinny and tossed his head before leaning forward and thrusting his nose into my hands again. I felt a sense of ecstasy and rightness coming from him and then he whispered,
You are the one! The one I have been waiting for all my life!
All this seemed to happen in a split second and then I heard Bran shouting.
“No!” he yelled and lunged towards me. “Use the nails!” he exclaimed. “Quickly, Emma—before it’s too late!”
The nails? I looked down at the crumpled paper bag in my hand but somehow I knew I didn’t need them.
Dropping the bag to the ground, I reached with both hands for my horse. I put my arms around his neck and held him, just as I had always dreamed of doing.
And then everything happened at once.
28
Bran grabbed my shoulder as though he was about to pull me away. At the same time, though, the white horse sank to his knees before me.
I am yours, I heard him say in my head. Yours truly forever, Mistress.
“What’s your name?” I asked him, pulling away from Bran to stroke the horse’s long, flowing mane and look into his dark, liquid eyes.
The horse whinnied and tossed his head.
I am Airgead, he told me. And I am yours.
“Thank you,” I whispered, stroking his long, soft nose. “Thank you, Airgead. You’re beautiful.”
Behind me, Bran still sounded upset.
“We have to get her away—we have to save her!” he was shouting to Lachlan.
“Save her from what exactly?” Lachlan’s voice was a bored drawl. “She doesn’t appear to be in any danger,” he went on. “In fact, she seems to have tamed a kelpie completely on her own. Someone with that much power doesn’t need help from the likes of you or me, O’Connor.”