Solitude~
Seth Callan
Glenayre
“Power is a sharp-edged blade. If you can’t swing it without knowing what blood it might spill, you’d best keep it sheathed.”
Seth knotted the reins and left the young horse to forage in a snow-covered meadow. He’d left Gambit in a warm stall back at Glenayre. The cold was hard on the old horse’s stiff joints, and his friend deserved comfort after years of faithful service.
The young stallion he rode out today was one of the finest Gambit had ever sired. Seth hadn’t been able to bring himself to give the horse a proper name yet. It would mean moving on. So the flaxen chestnut, smart and quick and the very image of his sire, was still just Jack.
Ostensibly, Seth had left the warmth of Glenayre to gather juniper cuttings to scent Isobel’s candles. In real
