Iron and Magic (The Iron Covenant, #1)

by Ilona Andrews

“I don’t have one.” “Well, that’s not good,” the man said. “You need a name. A strong name, the kind that people will know and respect. Do you know where we are?” He shook his head again. “We’re in France. Do you know who that man is?” He pointed to a statue of a man on a horse. The man had a sword and wore a crown. “No.” “That’s Hugh Capet. He was the founder of the Capet dynasty. The kingdom of France began with his reign. The descendants of his bloodline sat on the throne of France for almost nine hundred years. He was a great man and you too will be a great man, Hugh. Would you like to be a great man?” “Yes.” The man smiled. “Good. All things exist in balance, Hugh. Technology and Magic. This world was born to have both. The civilization your parents built strengthened and fed Technology until the imbalance became too great, and now Magic has returned to even the scales. It floods the world in great waves, crushing the technological marvels and spawning wondrous creatures. It ushers in a new age from the birth pangs of the apocalypse. Our age, Hugh, mine and yours. In this age, you will call me Roland.” “Yes,” Hugh agreed. He knew the truth now. God had found him. God had saved him. “The world is in chaos now,” Roland said. “But I will bring order to it. One day I will rule this world, and you will be my Warlord, leading armies in my name

Roland is such an asshole. A starving child to manipulate & program. :(

“Hit him again, and I’ll split you sideways.” Fourth voice. Cold. He knew this one too. That one rarely spoke. “Think.” The third voice. Collected, reasonable, dripping with contempt. “Right now, he’s drunk. Eventually he’ll be sober. Drunk we can fix. But if you kick him in the head, you’ll injure his brain. What good is he then? We already have one brain-damaged imbecile. We don’t need another.” One… two… three… The count surfaced from the muddled depths of his mind. He used to count just like this to see how long the insult would take to burrow through the hard shell that was Bale’s brain. Four…

0o

What the hell had happened since he was banished? “Why?” “Because of you!” Bale snarled from the corner. Hugh looked at Lamar. “Roland discovered an unpleasant fact,” Lamar said. “We do not follow him. We follow you. You are our Preceptor. We’re viewed as untrustworthy.” Idiots. He stared at them. “You swore an oath.” “Oaths go both ways. Show him your arms,” Lamar said.

0o

The order had been a test of loyalty, and Stoyan had failed. Roland didn’t just require loyalty; he demanded unquestioning devotion. When he failed to receive it, he must’ve decided to destroy the entire force. A waste, Hugh realized. Hugh had sunk years into building the Iron Dogs, and Roland tossed them away like garbage. Much like Roland had thrown him away. No, not thrown away. I was his right hand. He’s cut me off. What kind of man cuts off his own hand before going into a fight? This new heretical thought sat in his brain, burning and refusing to fade. He groped for the tether of magic to banish the uncertainty and found only the void. It sank its fangs into his soul. The invisible tie had connected him and Roland even when the magic waves waned and technology held the upper hand. It was always there. It had linked them since the moment Roland had shared his blood with him. Now it was gone. The void scraped the inside of his skull, the new sharp thoughts seared Hugh’s mind, and he had no way to steady himself.

You poor magically brainwashed bastard.

Hugh turned and looked at him. Ryan squirmed in his seat. “You’re trying to give me a cold-blooded horse?” Hugh asked, his voice quiet and casual. “He’s warm-blooded.” Ryan raised his hands. “Look at the gait. Look at the lines. That’s Andalusian lines right there. The neck is long and the legs…” Oh, he saw the Andalusian, all right, but he saw the Percheron, too, in the size and the big chest. Percherons ran too cold blooded for fighting under the saddle; all that bulky slow-twitch muscle dragged down their reaction time. They were difficult to anger, slow to charge, and heavy on their feet. Everything he didn’t want. Hugh looked at Ryan.

oh so THAT's what that means...

The stallion eyed him again. In his years Hugh had seen all sorts of horses. The Arabians who would rather die than step on a human foot; the strict, mean horses from the Russian steppes that gave all of themselves, but forgave nothing; the German Hanoverians that would just as soon walk through a man as around... With a cross like this he couldn’t tell what the hell he was going to get, but he’d ridden horses since he was ten years old, all those long decades ago. Their gazes locked. There was a fire inside that horse, and it shone through his eyes. A mean sonovabitch nobody wanted. You will do. You belong with me.

0o

Stalls had sprung up here and there, clustered where the road widened, selling all the fine luxuries the post-Shift world had to offer: “beef” that smelled like rat meat, old guns that jammed on the first shot, and magical potions, which followed the tried-and-true ancient recipe of ninety-nine parts tap water to one part food coloring. This early in the morning, only half an hour past sunrise, most of the vendors were still setting up. In another half hour, they would start squawking and lunging at the travelers, trying to hawk their wares, but for now, the road was blissfully quiet. It didn’t matter, because for once Hugh didn’t have a hangover.

0o

“I found several,” Lamar said. “None that would have us.” “What’s the problem?” Bale demanded. “We are the problem,” Lamar said. “We have baggage in addition to a rich and varied history.” “What are you on about?” Bale asked. “He means we’ve double-crossed people before,” Stoyan told him. “Nobody wants Nez as an enemy, and nobody wants to take a chance on us stabbing them in the back.” “We need to find someone desperate and willing to overlook our past sins,” Lamar said. “That takes time.” Hugh wished for something to happen. Some release. Someone to kill. Bucky raised his tail and shit on the road. “You gonna clean that up?” a male voice challenged. Thank you. Thank you so much for volunteering.

0o ... well, honestly you eventually reap what you sow, even if it's under a magially induced delusion.

There used to be good-natured competition between the squads, the centuries, and the cohorts, which Hugh encouraged, because it bound the soldiers closer together. But now, with the fragments of cohorts on his hands, he had to reform them into a new unit. Teach a man to fight and you made him into a warrior. He didn’t need warriors. He needed soldiers. To make a soldier, you had to put her with other prospective soldiers and make them go through hell and back together, relying on each other. They all had memories of walking through blood and fire with their old squad mates. He had to replace those memories with new ones, and so he did the only thing he could do to purge them. He’d sectioned off Felix’s scout team and formed the rest of his force, three hundred and nineteen soldiers, into a single cohort, which he split into four centuries, eighty people for the first three and seventy-nine in the last. Stoyan, Lamar, Bale, and Felix each took a century. And then he ran them, tired and starving, into exhaustion. He smoked them until their arms could no longer hold their weight. He kept them from sleeping. He did it all with them, picking a different century every day. Respect had to be earned.

ick

“What’s the catch?” Hugh asked. “They don’t trust us,” Lamar said. “We walked away from Patterson. And Willis. Both when they needed us most. They expect us to betray them.” “We followed orders,” Hugh said. “It was still a betrayal.” He puzzled over it. Roland had wanted them out of those conflicts, so he took his people out. He tried to remember if he had argued against it. He wanted to think he did, but his recall was cloudy. The precise memory of the events slipped through his fingers as if he were trying to pick up water in his fist. He pulled his troops out, and their former allies died. An echo of guilt rose from the depths of his memories, and he pushed it away. Did I even argue against it?

Nope, you were a good little puppet. I can't believe Roland warped a healer into a ruthless murderer.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he said the first thing that popped into his head. “Who would marry me?” “You’re handsome, a big, imposing figure of a man, and um…” Lamar scrounged for some words. “And they’re desperate.” “What the hell have you been smoking? I’m penniless, I’m exiled, I own nothing…” He left out broken. “And a recovering alcoholic.” Lamar nodded. “Yes, but again, they’re desperate. And we’re running out of food.” Hugh shut his eyes for a long moment. The world was sliding sideways, and he really needed to get a grip. “Who would I be marrying?” “The White Warlock.” Hugh’s eyes snapped open. “You want me to marry a man?” “No!” Lamar shook his head vigorously. “It’s a woman. A woman. Not a man.” Thank God for small favors. He couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Well, I’m relieved it hasn’t quite come to that.”

0o

She clenched her hands together. This was ridiculous. She had nothing to be nervous about. She could pull the plug at any time. The riders grew closer. Elara nodded at the leader on the white horse. “Is that him?” “Yes.” Hugh d’Ambray was huge. The stallion underneath him was massive, but the man matched the horse. He had to be well over six feet tall. Wide shoulders. Long limbs. Very lean. Almost as if he should’ve been thirty pounds or so heavier. Dugas did say they were starving. Starved or not, he looked like he could hold the drawbridge of a castle by himself. It was suddenly very real. I don’t want to do this. “You want me to marry Conan the Barbarian?” A drop of acid slid into her tone. “An attractive barbarian,” Dugas pointed out. “I suppose so, if you’re looking at it from a purely animalistic point of view.” Dugas chuckled.

0o

“Is his horse glowing?” She squinted at the stallion. If you looked just right, there was a hint of something protruding from its forehead, like a shimmer of hot air. “It appears so.”

;D

The air smelled like fresh bread, just out of the oven, with a crisp golden crust. Hugh’s mouth watered, while his stomach begged. Clever girl. He once starved a woman to the brink of death, trying to break her. Poetic justice, he reflected.

seriously, he was a monster ..

The inside of the castle was as well taken care of as the outside. The room where he now sat at a big rustic table was simple, the stone walls without any decoration, but it was clean, his chair was comfortable, and the temperature inside was at least ten degrees cooler. Nice thick walls. All Hugh had to do now was convince the owner of the castle to let him share it. He’d gotten a glimpse of her as he rode in. Her hair was completely white. Not pale blond or bleached platinum, white. Her hazel eyes were sharp, and she looked at him like she saw a wolf at her door. He wasn’t a wolf. He was something much worse, but he needed her defendable castle and her delicious bread.

:D

“What makes her special?” “If you wait long enough, she’ll show you.” “That’s not an answer.” “She protects us,” Vanessa said. “From whom?” “From everyone. The undead. The Remaining.” He leaned forward. “Who are the Remaining?” “We started out together, then we split,” Vanessa said. “We call those who stayed behind the Remaining. They call us the Departed.” “Why did you split?” Vanessa yawned. “It’s long and complicated.” “You are afraid of Elara.” “No, I’m just not stupid.”

0o

Up close, Hugh was overwhelming. The size, the breadth of his shoulders, the muscle, the hard stomach. Power. So much male, brutal power and strength. And she hated every inch of him. If she could’ve pushed him out of the hallway window, she would’ve. He’d splatter on the stones below, and she would smile when he did. That was the wrong thought. She checked herself.

0o

D’Ambray took a lungful of air and roared. “Honey, I’m home!” Skolnik turned to look. The stallion bore down at him and the senator took an involuntary step back. D’Ambray dismounted, ran up the steps, and pulled her to him, clamping her against his hard chest. “Give us a kiss.” She would murder him. He showed no signs of letting her go, so Elara brushed his lips with hers as quickly as she could. D’Ambray was gazing at her adoringly. “Did you miss me?” “Counted the moments since you were gone.” In joy. She counted them in joy, hoping they would last forever.

:D

“On second thought,” d’Ambray held up his hand. “I hate to be rude, but there is one small matter I have to take care of before we start, if you don’t mind. I’d like to give you my full attention.” “Of course, of course.” Skolnik gave him a magnanimous wave. “Excellent.” D’Ambray glanced at Stoyan. The Iron Dog raised his hand and made a come-here motion. Four Iron Dogs came around the keep, dragging two men between them. Skolnik froze for a moment. His expression shifted back to affable again, but she saw it, and the brief taste of his alarm was delicious. The Dogs dragged the two men forward. The left one was taller, with a shaved head and hard eyes, his face pissed off. The one on the right, wiry and blond, wore a blasé expression as if this was just another day and he wasn’t being half-carried by two hard cases. Professionals, she realized. Mercenaries of some sort or private security.

seems worth the irritation. ;)

She was relentless, and she killed with a precision he had never seen in great cats. Now he saw the same calculation in Elara’s eyes. She was about to leap into a kill. “I was going to give you time to correct yourself, but you leave me no choice,” Elara said. “First, the Preceptor isn’t going to help you. He’s here because he’s responsible for the welfare of his people, just as I’m responsible for the well-being of mine. We rose to our positions of power, because we have learned how to lead and compromise. We hate each other, but we are both cognizant of the fact that we have to work together for our mutual survival and we both sacrificed a great deal for the sake of this partnership. There is much more at stake here than sexual gratification. In an argument between you and me, the Preceptor will always side with me. I’m the bigger threat. All you can do is withhold sex, while I can divorce him and throw his soldiers out of the castle.” Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “Before you speak, remember that you are also one of my people. Your welfare is important to me,” Elara said. “It’s critical to your safety that you understand this: he isn’t besotted with you. He is a cold, calculating bastard.

point

“Has it been calling to you?” “It always calls to me.” Elara sighed. “Do you worry you’ll manifest?” “I worry he may push me too far.” “Have you thought about going the smarter route?” Savannah asked. “When you offer men opposition, they take it as a challenge. Sometimes a softer approach is better. A bit of flattery here and there, an appeal to his pride, a moment of helplessness. You know.” Of course Elara knew. She’d done it before when she’d had to and she was good at it. “This one is too… aware. Besides, if I could bring myself to do it, I would’ve already done it. He opens his mouth and I want to kill him. I’ve actually had fantasies of ripping his head off, Savannah.” The older witch looked at her for a long moment. “What?” “Don’t do it in front of his Dogs.” “Hopefully, I won’t do it at all. If things get too bad, I’ll divorce him.” “Better sooner than later. People aren’t marbles. You can’t keep them separate by the color of the uniform they wear. The longer his people stay with us, the more ties we forge.”

0o

A dog’s job was to put itself between the threat and the human. The two dogs with the harvesters did their job. Hugh and the shapeshifters had found the first dead hound at the edge of the woods. The second was here. Now it was up to human Dogs to settle the score. “Heartbeat,” Sharif whispered. Hugh reached out with his magic. The dog was a mess, torn and bitten, but a faint, barely-there heartbeat shivered in his chest. Hugh concentrated. This would be complicated. He knitted the organs together, repairing the tissue, sealing the blood vessels, mending the flesh like it was fabric, muscles, fascia, and skin. The two Dogs by his side waited quietly. Finally, he finished. The dog raised his head, turned in the brush, and crawled toward them. Sharif scooped the hundred and twenty-pound hound up like he was a puppy. The dog licked his face. “Blood loss,” Hugh said. “He won’t be walking for a bit.” “I’ll carry him,” Sharif said. His eyes shone, catching the light. “We’re only a mile in. Take him back and catch up,” Hugh told him.

:)

“I expected you to stay true to the spirit of our agreement. I know you didn’t.” “Let’s review. I came to you, because I wanted to go to the authorities. You demanded that I didn’t. I told you it was stupid. I told you things always got out. You dug your heels in.” “I don’t believe you.” “Wait.” She held up her hand. “Let me check if I care.” Hugh glared at her. “No,” she said. “Apparently, I don’t. It’s good that we got that straightened out.”

;)

He wanted to fix it, just to make it go away. He strode to her and said, barely above a whisper, “Do you recognize this?” “No.” She looked at him, and a small hopeful spark lit her eyes. “Do you?” “No.” The spark died. Hugh felt a sudden rush of anger, as if he’d failed somehow. If they got hit on the way back, she would jump into the fight. She had too much power to sit back. If he lost her, her nature-worshipping cabal would riot. Like it or not, everything in Baile and the town revolved around Elara. “Stay near me on the way back.” Surprise slapped her face. She turned it into cold arrogance. “Worried about my survival?” “Don’t want to miss an opportunity to use you as a body shield.” “How sweet of you.” “Stay near me, Elara.” He walked away before she could come back at him with something clever.

0o

“Better than you?” “Faster. Voron taught us both. It was like fighting myself. She’s a killer. If you take away her sword, she’ll pick up a rock. If you take away the rock, she’ll kill you with her hands. She zeroes in and doesn’t let go.” Suppressed admiration slipped into his words. Elara felt an uncomfortable pinch. “Aside from fighting Voron, it was probably my best fight,” he said. “You fought Voron?” “I killed him.” She stared at him. “Why?” “Roland wanted him dead.” So his second surrogate father ordered him to kill his first surrogate father. And he obeyed. Either he was truly a monster or… “Did it hurt when you killed him?” “He wasn’t exactly in his prime.” Hugh smiled, but his eyes didn’t. It hurt, she realized. It hurt, and it haunted him still. “Voron was bound to Roland the same way I was bound,” he said. “How?” “Roland pulled the blood out of my body, mixed it with his, and put it back.”

><

“Try to think like her for a moment,” Elara said. “You knew her father in a way she never did. You knew Voron and you likely had him longer than she did. You have so much in common. Then you killed Voron, whom she must’ve loved; tried to kill Lennart, whom she loves; and then tried to force her to go back to the father she hated, even though you, of all people, knew exactly what waited for her there. The betrayal was catastrophic.” Hugh felt a vague unease. The void spun around him, making it harder to think.

That blood pact is a doozy ... poor bastards.

That red-hot boiling rage. It turned him on. He wanted to keep fighting her. He wouldn’t have stopped until one of them was dead, and she knew it. Her face flashed before him. Daniels had looked horrified. And then she almost fled. The recollection disturbed him. He groped for the connection to Roland, for the clean feeling of surety that clarified all his doubts, but it wasn’t there. He was on his own. Hugh locked his teeth, sorting through his memories, going through Daniels’s facial expressions. He remembered the last one best, the time he had starved her, trying to force her to submit to her father. She had this look of resignation on her face as if she had given up on him ever getting it. She never saw him as a man. He was never in the running; he had known that from the start. He was either an extension of Roland or… It hit him like a ton of bricks. Daniels saw him as a sibling. She probably didn’t even realize it. On some level he had always understood it. It wasn’t the woman he had wanted. It was what she represented. He wanted her acceptance. He wanted her to admit how good he was. He would’ve seduced her to get it and then rubbed Roland’s face in it. One way or the other, the bastard would acknowledge him then. Validation. So simple.

*rolling my eyes* bloody men.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the sketch of the warrior. “We’re going to ask your best smith how hard it is to make this scale mail.” He already knew the answer, but he wanted confirmation anyway. She sighed. “Come on, then, wife. Put on a happy face.” “Ugh.” She reached over and slid her fingers into the crook of his elbow. “Good God, control yourself, woman. We’re in public. At least wait until we’re in the bedroom.” “Your corpse will grow lovely goldenseal.” He laughed again and walked her down to the smithy.

;)

It never bothered him before. He’d felt vague pangs of guilt, but never this. It wasn’t natural. That was the only explanation. If he felt all this shit now, he would’ve felt it when he was doing it. He should’ve been bothered. That part of him had been suppressed and he wasn’t the one doing that suppressing.

You only had the illusion of free will, bloody meat puppet.

“What about Atlanta?” “Roland began building on the edge of it.” “He was baiting her,” Hugh said. “He can’t help himself.” “For a while he played father of the year, but Daniels never trusted him. Eventually he kidnapped one of her people, a polymorph named Saiman. She came to visit Roland at the fort he was building and demanded Saiman back. He refused. They screamed at each other in the language of power. She called him a usurper. Stoyan was there on the cross. He didn’t understand most of it, but he said the day was bright and sunny, and by the end of it, the sky turned black and lightning struck the ground. When they were done, she got Stoyan and got the hell out of there.” It sounded like something Daniels would do. Subtle like a runaway bulldozer. “She defended you,” Lamar said. Hugh turned to him. “You said you wanted to know. Stoyan memorized that part. He thought you would want to know one day.” Lamar reached inside his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.

:)

“Roland’s worst fear,” Hugh thought out loud. “Why?” Lamar asked. “Roland’s magic is like a science. It’s systematic, it’s logical, and it has laws. It supports all of the cornerstones of the scientific method: the observation, measurement, experimentation, and formation and testing of theory. He views it as a civilizing force. Shapeshifter magic is ancient and wild. It relies on instinct. It predates Roland’s systematic approach. He derides it as primitive, but he fears it and he’s drawn to it because he doesn’t understand it. He’s fascinated by witches. His daughter is half a witch and now she’s conceived a shapeshifter child.” Understanding shone in Lamar’s eyes. “He’s afraid his grandchild will surpass him.”

0o

The leading rider said something and started toward Hugh, slowly. Dugas turned to her. “If I run down there now and dramatically thrust myself between him and Hugh, it will destroy Hugh’s credibility and make me look like an idiot.” “Yes,” Dugas said. Elara plastered a smile on her face. “Then I will slowly walk. Here is hoping they don’t kill each other.” She crossed her fingers and walked down the steps. The boy got there first.

0o

When Hugh truly had nothing left to do, he whistled for Bucky and rode him back to the castle, the Dogs and the wagon loaded with undead right behind him. He got there just as Bale came running from within the castle, half-dressed, his hair sticking up. “Vampires!” Bale bellowed and pointed behind them. “You fought vampires and I didn’t get to go?” The Dogs snickered. Hugh cracked a smile. “It was a glorious battle,” Lamar said. “You slept through it all.” Bale stared at him, incredulous. “You took Lamar? Lamar instead of me?” “Don’t worry,” Lamar said. “I’ll tell you all about it.” Bale shook his arms and howled at the sky. “There is no justice in the world!”

0o

“Yes.” Elara was almost within reach. “Kate was angry. The last one was her friend. She watched me kill him.” “Why would you do that in front of her?” “He didn’t give me a choice. It was a hard kill. Roland wanted his daughter. Nothing mattered except getting her to him. Nothing else existed.” Hugh struggled to explain the relentless pressure and the finality in Roland’s eyes when he had given the order. He’d gone into it with a kind of grim determination that now seemed desperate. He couldn’t find the words.

><

“So what did you do?” “I healed him.” “What else?” “The virus had fused some of the broken bones. I had to rebreak him to fix his chest. I made her think I was alternating between killing and healing. She promised to come out of the cage if I healed him, but someone interfered.” “Would you have killed the boy to get her?” “Yes.” “But he was a child.” “Nothing mattered except getting Kate to Sharrum.” “What does that word mean, Sharrum?” “King. God. Everything. Everything that I am is shaped by Sharrum. He is wisdom and purpose. He is life.” “Not everything.”

That utter ageless bastard.

“The weapons and the beer,” she explained. “Is that a good idea to have both available to Rufus’s people?” “The weapons are welded together,” Hugh told her. “If they manage to pry them from the wall, it won’t do them any good. I’m not about to arm drunken idiots.” Well, at least he was sensible.

0o

He was openly mocking her. Elara stood up and leaned in close. With him sitting and her standing, she was slightly taller. “Yes. I was worried about you. I killed fourteen creatures. You only had to take care of three men, and I had to finish two of them for you and poor Cedric had to help you with the third. That fight didn’t go well for you, did it?” “Really? This is what you’re going with?” “If you died while you and I were alone in the woods, your people would assume I killed you. They don’t know that I don’t need a crude chunk of metal to take your life. If I wanted you dead, I would eat your soul. It would taste bitter and rotten, but sacrifices must be made.” Hugh bared his teeth in a feral grin. “How about now? Take a little bite of my soul, just for fun.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a second and looked down, to the source of all life below. “Please give me strength to not kill this man. Please.”

:)

And she still felt stupid. That was okay. In a minute they would both feel stupid. “Fine,” Elara ground out, finishing the last stitch. “I did kill them. But what about you? Did you forget how to talk?” Quick steps approached, and Felix appeared in the doorway. Cedric slunk in behind him and sat in the doorway. “In all of that dazzling display of swordsmanship, couldn’t you have found two seconds to manfully growl, ‘We need them alive?’ or ‘Don’t kill him?’ You’re supposed to lead your soldiers. Don’t you issue orders, or do you just telepathically broadcast your battle strategy?” Hugh glared at her.

;p

“Let’s ask Felix,” she said. The big man startled. “Felix, how do you know when Hugh wants you to do something?” “He tells me,” Felix said. “Ah!” She clapped her hands together. “He tells you. Imagine that. So you are able to communicate with actual words rather than grunts and snarls. What happened? Why didn’t you tell me you wanted them alive after I killed the first one? It took me like three minutes to slide the sword into that second guy. I had to lay on it.” Hugh made a low noise in his throat. If humans could growl, it would sound just like that. She gave him a sweet smile. Any sweeter and you could spread it on toast. “Use your words.” “I didn’t tell you because it didn’t occur to me that you would be that dense.” “So you expected me to think clearly after having killed fourteen mysterious monsters and have three men run at me with swords? Did it ever occur to you that I might have been too focused on killing them?” “And,” Hugh continued, “because I still had the third guy.” “That wasn’t me. That was your dog. I’m not responsible for the actions of your loyal hound.” “He isn’t my dog.” She pointed at Cedric. “Tell him that.”

:D She has a point

The undead leapt away and took off into the night. She walked back to Oscar. The mechanic looked at her. “Have you ever noticed, Oscar, that when people say, ‘You’re a smart woman,’ what they really mean to say is ‘But I am smarter?’” Oscar smiled at her.

:)

A horn sounded in the castle, triumphant. The gates swung open. Bucky raised his head and pranced. “What are you doing, you fool?” Hugh growled. The stallion doubled down. They pranced to the gate.

:)