Ever After (Rachel Morgan) by Kim Harrison Page B

leaves pale green and rustling. Jenks was up there somewhere. He had my back. The silence stretched, and I glanced at Trent. His jaw was tight, and the sun caught his hair in a come-and-go fashion. Something other than Nick was on his mind, his fierce determination reminding me of his satisfaction when he turned that HAPA member into a deformed, twisted mockery of a demon. Here, Nicky, Nicky, Nicky . . .
    Tulpa was a larger horse, and he was stepping out farther than Molly could comfortably walk. Trent was too distracted to notice. Jenks dropped down, and Trent absently corrected the uptight stallion when he shied. Used to it, Molly contented herself with flicking an ear.
    “Something is in the woods, huh?” I said as Jenks landed on the saddle pommel. “Do you know how creepy that is?”
    His sword was loosened in its scabbard, but he hadn’t pulled it. “I don’t know how else to say it, Rache. I’m going to do a Z axis until I see Quen and Ceri make it out of the woods. There’s nothing ahead of you for another quarter mile.”
    Trent shook himself out of his funk. “You couldn’t have scouted a quarter mile that fast.”
    “That’s right,” Jenks said, grinning. “You just keep thinking that.” He turned to me as he took wing. “I’ll stay within earshot. Something isn’t right.”
    “Thanks, Jenks.” He zipped straight up to rise high enough to see when Quen and Ceri broke free of the trees, and I nudged Molly into a short canter to catch up with Tulpa.
    Sighing, Trent drew Tulpa into a slower pace, the black horse snorting in impatience. “Thank you. I appreciate you doing this with me,” he said, his low voice blending perfectly with the leaves, stirring in me like the wind in my hair.
    And here I had just gotten done telling Ceri I wouldn’t work with him. “You’re welcome. If I hadn’t, then Ceri would have refused to leave.”
    His profile showing his concern, he tucked a wayward lock of his hair away.
    “You really should think about including a pixy clan in your security,” I added.
    Trent looked up into the canopy. “That’s what you keep saying.”
    “Then maybe you should listen,” I shot back. Tulpa had already resumed his faster pace, and it irritated me. “Or at least do a cost analysis or something.”
    Pulling Tulpa up short, Trent smiled with half his mouth. Molly stopped as well, and a sudden memory exploded in me, brought forth by the tension, the dappled sun, even the shadowed air drawing goose bumps. He had been lanky and insecure with youth, and I had been awkward and overly confident with the first hints of health, but Tulpa had been the same, and I had been irate that he’d gotten a larger horse than me and I couldn’t keep up.
    “What?” he asked, and I put a hand to my cold face.
    “Um,” I said, scrambling. “Ceri might be right.”
    Molly shifted under me, and Trent reached out. I froze as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing the rim of my hat. “About what?”
    My heart was pounding. “That you’d be good at being king of the elves.”
    His hand dropped, and I breathed again. Head bowing, he looked at his fingers laced among the reins. “I can be both what I need to be and what I want to be.” But it was soft, and I wasn’t sure he believed it.
    “I tried that, and it didn’t work,” I said, the reins slipping through my fingers as Molly stretched to crop at the spindly grass surviving under the shade. “It didn’t work for Batman, either.” Trent didn’t look up, and I blurted, “At least you have something worth fighting for. Trent—”
    “I’ve been meaning to ask if you would like to choose a horse from my herd,” he interrupted me. “One who would be designated as yours for when you ride with us. I still owe you a proper Hunt.”
    My eyebrows rose, more because of the change of subject than the offer. “We are sitting here in the middle of nowhere waiting to be attacked, and you offer me a