The Scorpio Races - Maggie Stiefvater [95]
“Should I see how fast he is?” Mutt says. He turns in the saddle to eye Sean, who doesn’t flinch. David Prince, still holding the lead, has an odd expression as he glances over to us. A bit guilty, a bit apologetic, a bit thrilled.
“Ho, Sean Kendrick,” Prince says, as if either we or he has just appeared on the beach. “Any advice?”
“Don’t forget about the sea,” Sean says.
Mutt and Prince exchange a laugh at this.
“Look how tame he is,” Mutt tells Sean. And surely, Corr’s ears are pricked and interested. He sniffs at his saddle and at Mutt’s leg as if surprised only that it’s not his usual, as if it’s a curious turn of events. The bells on his bridle shrill almost inaudibly with the movement. “None of Sean Kendrick’s much-touted brand of witchcraft needed. Does it bother you that he’s so faithless?”
Sean doesn’t reply. Mutt’s eyes swipe over me dismissively. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone take so much pleasure in making someone else miserable. I remember that first night when I saw them both outside the pub, the hatred that lurked in both their expressions. There’s nothing hidden about it now; it’s an ugly sore. Mutt addresses the crowd — tourists, most of them. “What do you think? I’m about to take the fastest horse on the island out for a gallop. He’s a legend, right? A hero? A national treasure. Who doesn’t know his name?”
They clap and hoot. Sean is immobile, a piece of the cliffs.
“I know it!” I shout then, and my voice is so loud that it surprises me. Mutt’s gaze finds me next to Sean. I call, “But what’s yours, again?”
I give him my most horrible smile, the one that I learned from having two brothers.
As I watch Mutt’s face light up with anger and listen to the murmur of amusement from the onlookers, I remember, too late, Dory Maud’s advice.
“Where’s your pony, then?” Mutt snaps back. “Plowing fields?”
I’m more embarrassed by the attention than by the insult. Probably because when I’m done down here, I’ll be back in Dory Maud’s booth selling baubles to tourists. It occurs to me that Mutt Malvern doesn’t know me well enough to say something to properly hurt me.
It’s not me that Mutt wants to hurt anyway. He calls, “I have to say I’m pleased for you, Kendrick. Is she a better ride than you’re used to?” He pretends to caress Corr’s rump. I feel my cheeks go hot. Sean’s face doesn’t change and I wonder at it — is it practice? Is it that he’s heard all these things too many times for them to prick his skin?
Beneath Mutt, Corr moves restlessly. He pushes his nose toward Prince, nuzzling into his chest. Prince scratches his forehead and pushes back.
“Steady, old lad,” he says. Prince tilts his head back to face Mutt. “Are you taking him out, then? Before the tide gets up on us?” As he speaks, Corr presses again, more insistently, so that the bells ring again, and Prince pushes back.
“Yeah, indeed,” Mutt replies. He wiggles one of the reins to get Corr’s attention; Corr still nuzzles and pushes at Prince. I see the shudder of Corr’s skin beneath the ironbound breastplate they’ve put on him.
“Okay, now,” Prince says. Corr’s muzzle is at his collarbone, like Dove does when I scratch her mane and she’s feeling fond. Prince lays his hand flat on Corr’s cheek as Corr’s breath whuffs against Prince’s neck.
Sean’s feet kick up sand even as he shouts. “David!”
Prince looks up.
Quick as a snake, Corr’s flat teeth crush into his neck.
Mutt Malvern hauls back on the reins; Corr climbs into a rear. The crowd shouts and scatters. The other two men who were with Mutt leap back, uncertain if they should defend themselves or help Mutt. Sean jerks to a stop, face turned from the spraying sand. On the ground, Prince arches his back, his feet scrabbling. I can’t look away.
Corr rears again, and this time, Mutt can’t keep his hold. He rolls out of the reach of Corr’s hooves and comes up bloody. Prince’s blood, not his. The stallion’s eyes are white and rolling as he spins. His gaze is on the surf. Everyone else’s gaze is on him and on Sean, but none of them is moving.
When Corr circles another time,