The Earl's Childe (2 page)

“You also know I
hate
it when you pluck thoughts out of my head!” I growled. I was learning how to do the whole talking-in-my-head thing, but really, it was easier for me to talk-talk, unless there were other people around from whom I needed to hide our conversation.

He lifted his head and glared at me, curling out his lips to bare his teeth.
Then work on keeping your thoughts private
. I
don't have a problem doing so
.

“You've also been doing it longer than anyone in my family has been alive.”

Far longer
. He tossed his mane, flicking water far enough to hit me as I walked by.

“Then don't yell at me for not learning quickly enough.”

I am not yelling
.

“Fine, stop
complaining!”

What else shall I do with my day?
That buzzing in my head got louder, and I realized what it was. He was bored. Utterly and totally bored. Mum was really right.

“I was gonna see if you wanted to do something after you ate today…” I mumbled.

Do what, exactly?
He rolled to his feet, more gracefully than any horse I'd ever seen, trotted over, and leaned his head over his stall door. In my head, I felt his interest and curiosity spike.

“I dunno…” I opened the refrigerated locker inside the stable. With my nose wrinkled, I pulled out some small plastic buckets. I tried to hold my breath, despite how much it hurt my chest, as I carried each bucket of writhing squid and dumped it into the fish-tank of a trough we had built for the kelpie. I failed at the last instant, filling my lungs with the smell of cold calamari, seaweed, and fish guts. He ignored my gagging, shoving his face halfway into the stinking mess. As I waited, I rubbed my ribs and lower back. They were still bruised and sore from when we'd captured him. I'd gotten thrown by Chixie, Dad's horse, and then rolled on top of—by Ehrwnmyr—when Mum roped him.

Most lochs are fresh water, but the one by us often gets flooded with seawater. I don't know where Ehrwnmyr lived before he moved into the nearby loch, but he seemed to prefer sea or brackish water to fresh. At least that made it easier to get him food, since we were less than a thirty-minute drive (fifteen if Mum were driving) from a few touristy fishing villages.

He slurped up just about everything in the plastic trough in less than ten minutes, leaving only rust-tinted water. Licking his monster teeth, he looked at me.

So, what did you want to do?
I also sensed an unworded
something, anything!
tone to his voice.

“Um…well…with the other horses, I would usually brush them and clean their hooves first.”

Why?

I blinked. “You always want to keep hooves clean because, if there's a rock or anything stuck there, it's uncomfy. Or if there's mud or well, you know… I mean, it can't be comfy, right?” He
would
know, I figured.

As if considering my words, he lifted his front hoof from the ground and looked at it.

You wish to clean my hooves?

“Yeah…I mean, if you don't mind?”

Do
I
mind that
you
wish to clean
my
hooves?
I don't think there is a level high enough to measure the disbelief in his voice.

“Um. Yeah.”

And to brush…what?

“Uuuhh…” I looked him over. He stood close enough that I could see his wriggling fur. It looked like the clumps of tiny hairs you see growing beneath the sea, or really close-up microscopic pictures of the cilia inside your lungs. His mane was thick and ropey, like seaweed or dreadlocks, and his tail was no better. “Well, I know we're supposed to brush the coat so that dirt and stuff doesn't chafe under the saddle or saddle pad.”

Saddle or saddle pad?

“What I put on your back to ride…I mean, if you're okay with letting me ride you?”

He stared at me for quite a long time before sneezing in my direction and tossing his head to the side, lifting his nose in the air.
I must do as you tell me, but there is no need to put anything on my back. You will not fall from me
.

“Yeah, I realize that.” I rubbed my arms. I was totally failing at not acting squicked-out at his tentacle fur.

Flaring his nostrils and snorting again, he trotted away from me. I didn't feel any emotion from him this time, but I took a guess he was offended.

“Look, this is all new to me, and I don't mean to hurt your feelings. I want to make this work between us. And I
don't
just want to order you around, all right? Can you please be a little more patient?”

He stopped and faced three-quarters away from me, swishing his tail. Head still high, he tilted his head just a little and peered at me. His eyes glowed blue-green, the color of mine (except mine didn't glow.) With a huge sigh, he lowered his head to the height of his shoulders and then walked over to the paddock gate.

A request for patience from a creature whose lifespan I've lived nearly four times over?
His tone was more teasing than anything else, and I thought I saw a smirk pulling at his lips. With a regal toss of his head, he continued,
If you
must
see to grooming me, I suppose it is foolish of me to argue
.

I rolled my eyes and opened his gate. He hesitated, one hoof lifted.

“Do I need to tell you or ask you to come out?”

Your original command was not to leave this enclosure without your permission
.

“Sorry. You can come out now. Follow me.”

He stepped out of the paddock, pausing on the rubber horse mats that covered the packed dirt and stone floor of his stable. After pawing twice, he continued walking.

It feels like peat. But not
.

I couldn't help but smile at this little moment of innocent curiosity. How I felt about Ehrwnmyr was beyond complicated. He'd killed people—children!—and I knew he'd kill my family if I ever took the enchanted bridle off him. He didn't
want
to be good, and he occasionally even enjoyed making me feel horrible by letting me see his thoughts of hurting people I loved. But then moments like this…

He picked each hoof up quickly and carefully as he continued to follow me. We stopped in the aisle area we'd made for grooming, and he awaited further instructions.

“I suppose we could start with the hooves.” My eyes fell on the grooming bag hanging on the wall. I strode over and retrieved the hoof pick. As I approached the kelpie, I paused. I'd still have to hold his hoof to clean it…and the squirming hairs went all the way down, just as horse fur did.

My fur makes you uncomfortable
.

“It's not like fur. It
moves.”
I had petted him once, and it hadn't felt as bad as I thought it would. I remembered that fact, but I still couldn't seem to get it through my head.

It doesn't
hurt
you
. Normally, Ehrwnmyr could do a good job of hiding his emotions, if he wanted to, but he couldn't conceal his offense entirely.
And it would keep you secure if you were to ride me
. Offense and even some hurt feelings. He was proud of his fur stuff.

“Just…let me…let me get used to it. You had to get used to the mat.”

The kelpie's lips twitched. I walked closer. The “fur” seemed to reach out,
wanting
to touch me. I refused to flinch and slowly inched my fingers closer, until I felt it touch me. It felt like warm, silky, tendrils moving by static electricity. I blew out all the air in my lungs and took a deep breath in, keeping my fingers on his shoulder until I got used to the touching. Then I moved my hand through the tendrils until I could feel the muscle and bone of his front leg.

Once I firmly clasped his leg, the fur stopped moving so much. It wasn't perfectly still, and it wasn't stiff like a horse's coat, but it wasn't trying to explore me either. I slid my hand down to his hock, feeling less friction than from regular horse's hair, too. “Give me,” I said automatically. He lifted his foot, and I could feel him shift his weight as he turned his head to watch me.

I nearly gagged again at the smell from his hoof, which distracted me from the dull rib pain I felt from bending. If I didn't know what his manure and food smelled like, I'd be worried he had some nasty hoof disease or something. Or maybe I should be…?

“Would you tell me if you were hurt or sick or anything?”

Should I?
There was an edge to his emotion; I remembered what he'd caught me thinking earlier.

“Yes.” I grunted as I scraped out the caked mud and manure. “I really
don't
want you hurt or anything. I'd want to

help.”

I am not currently injured or ill
. As I released his hoof, he pawed at the ground again.
And this does feel better
. “You're welcome.”

He growled, muscles tensing.
I already am owned by you! Must I further indebt myself?

I didn't understand at first, but then remembered both Dad and I getting cut off when we were about to say “Thank you” to one of the faery noble people. “All right, I don't get this whole ‘thanking' thing with you faerie, so I'm not adding any stupid debt or whatever.”

Snorting, he pawed once more, but said nothing else.

I had him lift his rear leg for me. “So, if you're okay with me cleaning your hooves, should we also get Mickey to trim

them?”

He didn't bother putting into words his confusion at why I'd suggest trimming hooves. I frowned. They were cracked and uneven, with sharp, jagged edges by the tips. Didn't that bother him? He wasn't sure how he felt about my assessment.

“We can talk about it later, maybe. Will you talk to Mickey? I mean…he doesn't talk like I do, but he was the only human Tom let near
him
for a long time.”

I know who Mickey is
. Ehrwnmyr nodded.
He helped build this enclosure. And he
liked
me
.

“I don't think he realizes that you were the one who killed those kids.”

Mickey is the son of the castle's head caretakers, Mr. and Mrs. McInnis. He's also a high-functioning autistic. He has a hard time dealing with people, but he's really good with animals. So good that Dr. Caroline, the large-animal vet who covers our family's horses and the three surrounding villages, lets him do most of the animal medical care around the castle.

He understands I am connected to your soul
.

I frowned again.

He understands things differently than you do
. Ehrwnmyr raised his last hoof even as I ran my hand down his leg. I didn't say anything else. My younger brother, Rowan, was also autistic— though more on the Asperger's side—and he understood things differently, too. When I put the kelpie's hoof down, he asked,
What does the brushing entail?

I looked at his coat again. With less hesitation, this time, I ran my fingers over his shoulder. “Does it…I don't know… hurt or feel uncomfortable when I push on this stuff?”

It neither hurts nor feels uncomfortable when you apply pressure to my
fur.

Fine. Fur. Living, wriggling fur. As if the fibers, themselves, were reading my mind, a few started to curl around my fingertips. I pulled away without them resisting my motion. In fact, I picked up on another emotion Ehrwnmyr was trying to restrain. He actually
liked
when I touched him.

I took the softest brush from the grooming bag and headed towards his neck, stopping when I noticed him flinch.

“I'm not going to hurt you. Promise.”

He lowered his head.

“I usually start here, on the neck, and work down to your

butt.”

Butt?
He was amused.

“You're, like, four hundred, not four. What do you
want
me to call where your back legs and tail attach?”

He actually made a chuckling noise; I could feel his neck and shoulder shaking. Whatever. Taking a deep breath, I ran the soft brush down his neck once, twice. His “laughter” stopped and a series of twitches broke down from his neck towards his tail.

I stopped and pulled the brush away. “Are you okay? Did I do something you don't like?”

Yes—no
. He “pursed” his lips as much as an equine can.
It's…nice
.

He turned his head slightly and looked at me. I could sense he was nervous, like how I felt whenever I thought of going back to school.

“I'm glad it feels nice for you.” I started to brush again. He lowered his head even more, half-closing his eyes. His lower lip quivered, growing slacker as I worked down his body. The “fur” quieted, holding nearly still except for the static-cling to the brush.

When I finished, I bit my lip and gently scratched the side of his neck. He jerked his head, startled.

Done?
He wasn't doing a very good job at hiding his disappointment.

I gave him a half-smile. “I can start brushing you and cleaning you every day. I do that with my pony.”

He cautiously nodded his head.
Is that all?

“I was gonna see if you wanted to do some exercises, like running around or something?”

I like running!

“Okay, let's go.”