Brin was already in the stable yard when I got there, smiling at a horse like the day owed him something.
He still had a purple bruise on his jaw from a smokehouse hook, and he was grinning anyway.
Brin: The bay mare's finally letting me ride her. Sabine said I could take her out.
My whole body went cold in the sun.
Liora: Sabine said that.
Brin: She brought the tack out herself. Looked right at me and smiled.
I counted out of habit. Two hundred and nine days.
Sabine: Still following the freak around, Brin? People will talk.
Nash: Smokehouse bitch is giving riding lessons now. Fuck me, that's rich.
Dov turned his back and found work to do. That was how it always went.
Sabine: Go on, Brin. She's tacked and ready. I did the girth myself.
She said it sweet. Her eyes slid to me when she said it.
I watched her walk off with her hands loose at her sides, and my stomach would not settle.
Brin: Watch this. I'll take the creek jump.
I opened my mouth to stop him. Then Nash laughed, and I shut it, like I always did.
The mare went off at a canter, glad of it.
The girth strap snapped halfway over the log.
I heard it from the gate. A short hard crack, like a branch going under a boot.
Then Brin went over the horse's shoulder and landed with his leg under him.
The mare bolted. Brin did not move.
I got to his side before anyone. His face was gray and his mouth was full of blood.
Brin: Liora. My leg.
The bone pushed out through his trousers. White and red and wrong.
Sabine: That mare has always been skittish. Everyone knows it.
Sabine: He should have checked his own tack. That's what a real rider does.
Brin made a sound in his throat. She did not look at him once.
Then Ansel was there, and the air changed. I felt him before I saw him, a pull under my ribs.
The bond went tight and warm. My skin woke up all over, at the worst moment in the world.
Ansel: Hold his leg. I'll lift.
I pressed the bone back into place with both palms. Brin screamed into my shoulder.
Ansel: Steady. That's it. Steady, Liora.
He said my name low, and my hands shook for a reason that had nothing to do with Brin.
The healer shoved us both back and went to work.
Ansel: You got to him first.
Liora: I should have stopped him. I knew.
Ansel: Knew what?
Sabine: Knew what, sister? Say it loud so everyone can hear the crazy.
Sabine: Go on, you stupid bitch. Tell them I cut the strap. They'll believe you over me.
Her fingers dug into my arm hard enough to leave prints.
Sabine: Try it and I'll finish the rest of Brin by morning. I'll open him up while he sleeps and leave you to find what's left.
She walked off with her arm through Nash's and laughed at something.
I picked the girth strap out of the mud. It was still wet from the creek.
The cut was clean. One short slice through the leather, straight as a knife line.
Ansel: That's not wear. Leather doesn't tear in a line like that.
Liora: No. That's her.
Ansel: Liora. Look at me.
I looked. The pull went through me like a hook, and I made myself step back from it.
Ansel: I'll put a guard on the stable and walk Brin's brother home myself.
Liora: You can't guard everyone she decides to hate.
Sabine never stopped at me. She never had. Everyone who stood near me carried a price, and Brin had just paid it.
I closed my scarred hand into a fist. Somewhere in my chest, the counting stopped.