meant to keep
his
distance from Stomper. His stallion had other ideas, however, and headed straight for Milisant’s hand for a gentle nose scratch, despite Wulfric’s attempt to jerk him away from her.
She heard him swear when he could not control his animal, then,
“Jesu,
what have you done to my horse?”
“Naught but make friends with him,” she said, smiling at the stallion as she scratched him. Stomper merely tossed his head to the side for a look, to make sure naught was threatening her.
“’Tis witchly, your way with animals.”
Milisant snorted, then wished she had not. Perhaps it could benefit her if Wulfric thought her a witch. He might not be overly harsh with her if he thought she might get even with him in some unnatural way. The thought was a pleasant one.
“The animals I befriend simply know I will never hurt them. Does your stallion think the same of you?”
“Why would I hurt him?”
“You just did,” she said pointedly, “in trying to get him away from me.”
He flushed red, then scowled. “Lady, you do try my patience.”
She nodded thoughtfully, then smiled. His scowl grew darker. Her smile got brighter. Mayhap it was not wise, to provoke him, even subtly, but she simply could not resist the opportunity.
He tried again to get his stallion to move back, less harshly, but still without success. Finally he ordered her, “Release your hold on him.”
“I am not holding him,” she replied calmly. “Mayhap if you apologized for hurting him, and showed him that you care about him, he might obey you.”
To that Wulfric growled, dismounted, and ledthe stallion some distance away on foot. Milisant managed to keep from chuckling as she watched his difficulty, but she did call out, “Do not forget the apology.”
He ignored her—at least, he did not glance back at her to reply. He did say a few words to his horse, though, which she was unable to hear. Likely threats and dire warnings about not embarrassing him again.
After a few more minutes, he remounted and tried once again to approach her. He just made sure he kept his distance this time, and kept his stallion turned partially away, so the animal would have trouble noticing her.
This worked, and the knight was able to relax somewhat. Which was why Milisant knew, to the second, when he realized that she was looking down on him, even at the extra distance between them.
Due to the huge size of the destrier, Wulfric’s greater height still did not put them at eye level. It was close, but not quite enough. And it was so very obvious that he did not like having to look up at her, even if only a few inches.
Perversely, Milisant straightened up in her saddle, adding a few more inches. Wulfric, seeing this, made a sound of disgust and turned his stallion about to leave her.
Then she gasped in pain.
It was completely involuntary. She certainly would never have drawn him back to her intentionally. It was merely her surprise at hearing the arrow as it neared her, then feeling the sting of it on her upper arm. It only nicked her, continued on to embed in a nearby tree, yet shewas still staring incredulously at the blood appearing on her cloak as Wulfric turned back to her.
His reaction to seeing the blood was a bit faster than her own. He had her off of Stomper and buried in the cocoon of his chest, arms, and cloak within seconds. His shout of “To arms!” swiftly followed, to bring his knights to him.
She was trying, in vain, to find an opening in the voluminous cloak wrapped about her, so she could at least get her head out of it. No luck. And then the stallion was galloping away, so she gave up trying.
She was feeling a bit dizzy as well, and her efforts had made that worse. And she was also noticing that the sting on her arm was getting increasingly more painful with each jarring bounce of that wild ride back to the castle.
By the time the drawbridge was reached, Milisant had lost all feeling. For the first time in her life, she
his
distance from Stomper. His stallion had other ideas, however, and headed straight for Milisant’s hand for a gentle nose scratch, despite Wulfric’s attempt to jerk him away from her.
She heard him swear when he could not control his animal, then,
“Jesu,
what have you done to my horse?”
“Naught but make friends with him,” she said, smiling at the stallion as she scratched him. Stomper merely tossed his head to the side for a look, to make sure naught was threatening her.
“’Tis witchly, your way with animals.”
Milisant snorted, then wished she had not. Perhaps it could benefit her if Wulfric thought her a witch. He might not be overly harsh with her if he thought she might get even with him in some unnatural way. The thought was a pleasant one.
“The animals I befriend simply know I will never hurt them. Does your stallion think the same of you?”
“Why would I hurt him?”
“You just did,” she said pointedly, “in trying to get him away from me.”
He flushed red, then scowled. “Lady, you do try my patience.”
She nodded thoughtfully, then smiled. His scowl grew darker. Her smile got brighter. Mayhap it was not wise, to provoke him, even subtly, but she simply could not resist the opportunity.
He tried again to get his stallion to move back, less harshly, but still without success. Finally he ordered her, “Release your hold on him.”
“I am not holding him,” she replied calmly. “Mayhap if you apologized for hurting him, and showed him that you care about him, he might obey you.”
To that Wulfric growled, dismounted, and ledthe stallion some distance away on foot. Milisant managed to keep from chuckling as she watched his difficulty, but she did call out, “Do not forget the apology.”
He ignored her—at least, he did not glance back at her to reply. He did say a few words to his horse, though, which she was unable to hear. Likely threats and dire warnings about not embarrassing him again.
After a few more minutes, he remounted and tried once again to approach her. He just made sure he kept his distance this time, and kept his stallion turned partially away, so the animal would have trouble noticing her.
This worked, and the knight was able to relax somewhat. Which was why Milisant knew, to the second, when he realized that she was looking down on him, even at the extra distance between them.
Due to the huge size of the destrier, Wulfric’s greater height still did not put them at eye level. It was close, but not quite enough. And it was so very obvious that he did not like having to look up at her, even if only a few inches.
Perversely, Milisant straightened up in her saddle, adding a few more inches. Wulfric, seeing this, made a sound of disgust and turned his stallion about to leave her.
Then she gasped in pain.
It was completely involuntary. She certainly would never have drawn him back to her intentionally. It was merely her surprise at hearing the arrow as it neared her, then feeling the sting of it on her upper arm. It only nicked her, continued on to embed in a nearby tree, yet shewas still staring incredulously at the blood appearing on her cloak as Wulfric turned back to her.
His reaction to seeing the blood was a bit faster than her own. He had her off of Stomper and buried in the cocoon of his chest, arms, and cloak within seconds. His shout of “To arms!” swiftly followed, to bring his knights to him.
She was trying, in vain, to find an opening in the voluminous cloak wrapped about her, so she could at least get her head out of it. No luck. And then the stallion was galloping away, so she gave up trying.
She was feeling a bit dizzy as well, and her efforts had made that worse. And she was also noticing that the sting on her arm was getting increasingly more painful with each jarring bounce of that wild ride back to the castle.
By the time the drawbridge was reached, Milisant had lost all feeling. For the first time in her life, she
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