This is the first chapter that is written from the perspective of a character other than Bay...most of this story will be from Bay's point of view, but there are a few scenes that either a) I imagined them from someone else's perspective/wanted to describe Bay, or b) Bay isn't there and obviously can't describe the scene. So I've tried to keep in character as best I can for these scenes! Please review and let me know how I do in this respect!
The height I used for Bay has two meanings—it's a little unusual and it's also how tall I am. ;)
Chapter Five
Sean
Malvern told me to meet him in the tea house. I'm here early, but Malvern is nowhere in sight. It's just another way he likes to remind everyone of his power and authority. I've heard on the mainland that making a late entrance is fashionable, but I consider it rude. Maybe that' because I associate it with Malvern and nothing he does lays easy on me. I'm glad it's early and there aren't any other customers in the tea house yet. I feel out of place in the quaint little room. The small, round tables are covered in neatly pressed white tablecloths, the chairs are dark, polished wood with flowered cushions on the seats. Against the flowers and the bright sunlight filtering through the windows, I feel like death. Compared to them, I'm the darkest thing in the room. My boots are covered in island earth, my jacket stained with countless days on the beach—salt and dirt and blood. Evelyn Carrick offers to take it from me when she comes upstairs, but I keep it on. Something about it makes me fractionally more comfortable in this over cheerful room.
As I wait for Malvern, my thoughts wander over last week. Something inside me still can't believe that Bay Fisher, fun-loving, companionable Bay Fisher, the girl that I've grown up with, is riding in the Scorpio Races. I think back to the morning she caught Tempest. Just me and Bay down on the beach with the early morning chill. There is something different about her capall. He is friendlier than any other I've ever handled and less drawn by the sea. I think he's got island horse blood in him somewhere. He seems to share a unique bond with Bay. I wonder how many mornings she spent, in secret, risking herself to forge that bond. I frown. I can't quite figure Bay's reasons for riding in the races, for putting herself in danger like this. I can't shake the feeling that they have something to do with me, but what, I can't imagine.
Just then Malvern walks up the stairs into the room.
"You look serious, Mr. Kendrick," he says. "Something on your mind?" he asks.
I shake my head. It's nothing I want to tell Malvern.
Malvern laughs but eyes me curiously. "Have a seat." He gestures to a chair. I wait for him to sit first then I sink into the offered chair.
Evelyn comes back up the stairs and asks Malvern what he wants. From the speed at which she got here I can almost guarantee that she followed Malvern up the steps and waited for a few seconds out of sight before serving him. He orders tea—for himself and me, but it is no gesture of kindness.
"About my horse, Mr. Kendrick," Malvern begins.
I let out the breath I've been unconsciously holding, but I don't speak. I'd been waiting on Malvern to bring up Fundamental, the foal I lost. Lost while thinking about Puck and Mutt and how the island just doesn't feel right this race season. I could try to say something in my defense, tell Malvern my side of the story, but I don't. Malvern will either believe me or he won't but his mind is already made up. I can see it in his eyes.
"Nothing to say in your defense?" Malvern asks as Evelyn returns with our tea. Malvern stirs his slowly, all the while keeping his eyes on my face.
"I was distracted," I admit. "I lost him." There's not much else to say.
Malvern nods. I've just confirmed what he already knows. "Matthew told me you were irresponsible. Daly painted you in a more favorable light, however."
I don't answer. Malvern sips his tea.
"I admire a man who faces the gallows with a straight face, Mr. Kendrick." He pauses, a slow smile tugging the corner of his mouth.
I wait in silence. I know he wants me to respond, to plead, to think that he's about to tell me he's letting me go. But I know Malvern better than that. Still, I can't help but think of Mutt's off and on threats to get me fired.
"And I know you well enough to know that you wouldn't lose my horse without good reason," Malvern continues as if he was privy to my thoughts.
I have to stop an expression of surprise from rearranging my features without my permission. Malvern said something...almost good about me.
"I don't believe in second chances, Kendrick. Don't let it happen again."
"Yes, sir." This isn't a second chance. This is just reality. Some horses die. Sometimes the sea wins. But neither Malvern nor the sea forgives.
"Good, now on to the matter of the races," Malvern says with mock cheerfulness. "Tell me about my horses. Which is the slowest?"
"The bay without white," I answer. No white and no name either.
"The fastest?" he asks, finishing his tea.
"Corr." That has never changed from year to year, but Malvern still asks me anyway.
"And the safest?" He steeples his fingers in front of him.
"The bay with white. Edana."
Malvern's next question catches me off-guard and he knows it. "What about that gray of Bay Fisher's?" He asks the question in a tone of casual interest, but I know there is a deeper motive behind it. For the first time I'm silent not because I choose to be, but because I find myself at a sudden, unexpected lack of any response. I swallow.
"He's strong. And fast. But not faster than Corr," I stammer out. My voice sounds steady, but that's not what I feel like inside. It's the first time I've ever felt this unsettled and I really don't know how to handle it. I open my mouth to say something else then close it with a shrug.
"Yes, Mr. Kendrick?" Malvern prompts.
I shake my head and remain silent. I have nothing else to say. I don't dare say that Tempest is safe—the safest capaill uisce I've ever been around. Malvern doesn't need to know.
Malvern stands. "Put Matthew on Edana," he instructs as he turns and strides from the room. I feel empty somehow, like I've told a secret I shouldn't have. I know where Malvern is going next and I've got to try and get there before him.
Bay
I'm in the yard, walking from the stable to the house, when Malvern rides up. I notice him as he comes level with the farthest post in the pasture fence. I know who it is as soon as I see him. I don't know what he's here for, but I have a sinking feeling that it can't be good. Malvern usually only shows up in person when he wants something from you. As he gets closer I wipe the disgusted look off my face and plaster what I hope is a good imitation of a friendly smile on my features. Malvern pulls his horse into a stop in a superb show of horsemanship and dismounts. But he doesn't swing off his horse with the casual grace that I associate with Sean; Malvern slides off like an oil slick spreading across pavement, iridescent on the surface but dark, sticky, and foul underneath.
"Fisher," he greets me as he walks up to me. "Bay, isn't it?" he smiles, holding out his hand.
"Yes, sir," I answer, stalling for time. I know better than to shake hands with Malvern. It's like sealing the deal before you know the terms or agreeing to a contract without reading the small print. I realize that I've paused long enough to evoke Malvern's suspicion.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Malvern," I say, trying very hard to hold my voice steady. "But I don't want to get your hands dirty. I've been cleaning stalls," I explain apologetically. I set down the bucket I'm carrying and hold my hands out, fingers splayed for his inspection. I've told him only half of the truth. I was cleaning stalls, but I'd been cleaning a bridle and saddle for Tempest for the past hour and my hands are covered in polish and oil.
Malvern frowns, but he doesn't quite take his hand away. I make a show of trying to wipe my hands clean on my pants, but Malvern clears his throat and pulls his hand back. "Don't go to the trouble," he says, irritation lurking in his voice. Inside, I'm grinning ecstatically, but I keep a humble expression outside and simply nod. This is going better than I thought. I've already made Malvern uncomfortable and underscored his authority.
For a long while we stand, facing each other in silence. Malvern stares me down and I let my gaze wander over the yard, across his expensive boots and the neatly pressed cuffs in his shirt sleeves. Everything about Malvern speaks money and power. Against him, I look like nothing in my old jeans and dirty sweatshirt with the torn pocket. Strands of hair have escaped my braid and blow around my face in a halo of tangles. Finally he speaks.
"Nice uisce you have out there." He looks out into the pasture, where Tempest is trotting across the far end of the enclosure. I swallow hard. If Malvern's attentions are on my capaill uisce, it is not a good sign.
"Yes, sir," I answer softly.
"Where'd you get a powerful animal like that?" he asks, strolling over to the fence and leaning against it.
I don't move from where I stand and I keep my voice low, but Malvern hears me. "I caught him. Last week," I answer stiffly.
"You mean liberated him from his rightful owner?" Malvern asks. I don't know where he's going with this, but the implication that I would steal a horse this valuable raises my hackles.
"If by his 'rightful owner' you mean the sea, then yes," I say.
"The sea no more owns this animal than you do, Bay Fisher," Malvern snarls, turning back to face me again.
"Tempest owns himself, if that's what you mean," I answer. I skirt around Malvern's true intentions and he knows it.
"Named him have we?" he raises an eyebrow.
"Is there any reason I shouldn't?" I counter.
"Because that animal has my name written all over it."
My heart sinks into my boots and I swallow hard. "Mr. Malvern." When I speak my voice is like ice. "That horse doesn't belong to you and we both know it."
"Do we?" he sneers. "Because it seems to me that you've taken one of my prize uisce stallions."
"I caught Tempest from the sea," I repeat. "Ask Sean Kendrick. He'll tell you. He was there."
Malvern laughs at the mention of Sean's name. "Will he?" Malvern shakes his head like I'm a small child who can't understand. "Sean Kendrick is wrapped so tightly around my finger," Malvern holds up his hand and waves his fingers in my face, "that he can't move an inch unless I give it to him."
I stare back at Malvern defiantly. "You can't prove it," I whisper. "The capaill uisce carry no brand, no mark of ownership. By law that means they belongs to whoever holds their reins." Or whoever catches them first.
"And I see your grip on the reins slipping very quickly, young lady."
I draw myself up to my full height—all five foot three and a half inches of me—but I still only come up to Malvern's chin. "Not while I'm still alive," I answer.
That stops Malvern short. I can see it in his face. He didn't expect me to fight this hard to keep my horse. No one ever argues with Benjamin Malvern. But no one has ever needed to keep something from him as much as I do.
"Very well," Malvern draws a deep breath through his nose, his lips pressed into a wicked, hard line. "This isn't finished, Fisher." He strides to his horse and mounts in one motion. Kicking his heels into the animal, he spurs it into a gallop and wheels around, streaking back the way he came. I wait until he is out of sight before I collapse against the fence beside me. Malvern wants my capall uisce. Malvern wants my freedom.
I'm sitting on the fence watching Tempest when I hear footsteps behind me. I don't turn around. I don't need to. Sean walks up beside me and leans on the fence. He clears his throat.
"I'm sorry," he says.
I look down at him in surprise. "Sorry?" I ask. "For what?"
"I saw Malvern leave. I know what he came for. I tried to get here to warn you, but I didn't have a horse with me and it would've taken me longer to go back and get one."
For the first time, I notice that Sean is breathing heavily and his hair is dark with sweat. He must have run all the way here to try and beat Malvern.
"It's alright," I say, looking back out to the pasture.
Unexpectedly, Sean steps closer and I wouldn't exactly say he leans on me, but his shoulder rests against my arm. I can feel the heat from his body through my sweatshirt. We're quiet for ages, watching Tempest. At least, I'm watching Tempest; Sean's head is down as he regains his breath. I feel like he wants to say something, but I don't push him.
"What did he say?" he finally asks.
"That I stole his horse," I hiss.
Sean stands up straight and looks me in the eye. "What?"
"Malvern claims I stole one of his uisce stallions."
"He can't prove it."
"That's what I said."
"He's never even owned a capall uisce that color," Sean murmurs.
"I told Malvern that Tempest carried no brand, so he belonged to me. That's about when he got mad and rode away."
"You'll have to keep an eye on Tempest. Malvern will try anything he can to take that horse."
"I know." I shiver. "But he really has nothing to bargain with," I continue. "He can't take anything from me without stealing and I don't want his money." Malvern doesn't own my house or the property it is on. My dad inherited it all from his dad and so on back until no one can remember and only Thisby is witness. I don't work for Malvern, not officially anyway, so he can't fire me, and my dad hates Malvern even more than I do because he associates Malvern with the water horses, so he can't try to negotiate there. About the only thing he can do at the moment is try to take me out of the races. But he won't attempt that, will he? I ask Sean as much. He's silent for a long while before he replies. But it is not the answer I expect.
"Why do you want to ride in the races, Bay?"
I look down at Sean with my mouth open for a second. Then I close it. "I just—" I start, and stop. How do I tell Sean my reasons for riding in the races? What are my reasons? At first I would say money, but I know they are deeper than that, much deeper. In fact, money is not the primary reason, but it will help. "I want—" I stop again, feeling flustered. How do I explain that I want to find myself in these races? "I just am," I finally mutter and it sounds defensive and petulant, even to me.
Sean raises an eyebrow but remains silent. I know he knows I didn't tell him the truth, but he doesn't call my lie. "Just, be careful, okay?" he says, so quietly I barely hear it. Then he turns and walks away. I want to call him back, but I don't. And then he's out of sight and I'm left alone with Tempest and my jumbled thoughts and feelings
After re-reading the book for my second take on this story, I noticed that Sean comments on the fact that Malvern doesn't ride anymore and it's one of the few things he actually knows about Malvern. I realized belatedly that I have Malvern riding in a few scenes in my story, so I decided (for my fanfiction) to interpret that loosely to mean he doesn't ride the capaill usice anymore or race in the Scorpio Races. Though I am very curious as to why Malvern doesn't ride. Something tells me there was an accident and he's actually afraid, so he covers up for it by being too "high and mighty" to ride his own horses. Besides, why do it yourself when Sean Kendrick can do it for you, right? That's my working theory anyway ;)
-Luck (2019)