Kiss Me If You Can

CHAPTER 3

I use the cover of night to my advantage and move swiftly, dodging sleepy guards until I reach the kingdom's royal stable. If I plan to cover any ground by sunrise, I will need a steed.

When I turn the corner, I am not so surprised to see a man dressed in the kingdom's colors- blue and yellow- standing out front with a sword at his belt and a lantern in his hand.

I crouch in the shadows of the building and those cast by the warm light, the dark cloak that I had tied on before I left shielding me from the guard's eyes.

My legs are just starting to fall asleep beneath me when he sits on a wooden barrel outside of the door, seeing that no one is idiotic enough to steal from the king. After another half an hour, his eyes droop, then fall closed all together. It is never too long before night guards get bored and fall asleep, I see them do it all the time.

I silently slip past him to the main door, and quietly creep inside, shutting it softly behind me. Greeted by the familiar smell of the sea and clean hay, I find a lantern and fumble around in the darkness like a blind man until I find a flint to light it. I shield some of the light with my hand so anyone who may happen to pass by do not see it through the few windows.

I close my eyes to listen more carefully before I start to find my mount, making sure that I am truly alone. Other than the soft snores of a stable boy in an empty stall, It is just me and the thirty purest blooded animals for several kingdoms.

The stable is grand; the stalls and hall way spotless of excess debris and wastes with beautiful, hand carved wooden rafters and horse boxes, made by the best carpenter money could buy. But that was when we had money to spend.

I look up, and am greeted by a dozen or so heads and several deceivingly warm calls. I pass by them all, not daring to reach and stroke any of them. They will not use their siren's song on me- I know much better. I do not make eye contact with any of the beasts and continue on until I get to a familiar stall. I click my tongue softly, not loud enough to wake the boy a few boxes away.

He's a brave one, that Navani. Most men are afraid to step foot inside of this stable, but he has a strange love for these animals and handles them well. He has no fear of sleeping near them, even when they are so dangerous.

A beautifully sculpted head pops out of the stall in front of me, and I smile, rubbing my thumb over the single white snip on the animal's nose. This one is not like the others- this one is mine.

Like me, my beast is invisible in the darkness, and if it wasn't for the dim light of the lantern in my grasp I would not be able to see him at all. Many fear him more than all the others for that reason: if he were to manage to get out of his specially built stall, no one but me would be able to find him again. He would be the perfect predator, and he doesn't stop when he is full.

These horses in this barn are not the usual kind. They are, in fact, beasts of the water and are much more dangerous and adept than regular ponies. They do look like them, save for their carnivorous nature, the black, fish-like eyes, the smell from their coats and the long, slim ears that have an inward curve at the tips. You won't know what they are until you see a flash of sharp teeth when they bite or drag you beneath the waters surface.

They are a species of fairy beasts that live in the seas of this region, known for devouring seamen and their crews. Mothers have told their children stories to scare them for centuries, keeping them from the shorelines of the coast. They are formally called Hippocampi, but my people call them Vann Hest , meaning Water Horse.

My great grandfather had taken an interest in them when a stranger found his way into our town perched atop one of them. It was unheard of to attempt to ride a Vann Hest , a ludicrous idea invented by a mad man. Why would anyone desire to mount a beast as dangerous and blood thirsty as these? Horses served as much safer and easier mode of transportation. The people didn't see why anyone should ride the Vann Hest , until they were shown just how fast they were on the land. In a short distance foot race against the regions greatest Thoroughbreds, the beast placed first a whole minute before the rest. While this tamer of the Vann Hest was a guest in The King's halls, the man told the secrets of training them to an almost docile level. The King paid this man off and asked him to train the beasts, if he could capture them. He agreed to the well paying job, and our stock of fabled beasts began.

The Vann Hest are still quite deadly when handled wrongly, so not every citizen of Nordic is permitted to ride them. Mostly nobility, but there is the occasional common-person who owns one. In order to ride a Vann Hest , it takes intense skill of the mind and body, and you have to be trusted . If your mount senses that it is stronger than you, it will always turn on it's rider: dragging you into the sea or tearing your throat out in your sleep. This is why specific training is needed in order to be a Rider. Not only do you require a strong, dominant personality, but you must also possess an impeccable mental strength. The

Vann Hest and their Rider connect through a mental bond that is created through the acceptance of one another. The beasts are known for their cunning, siren-like charm, and they will often try to trick you. That is how entire ship crews drowned- no one forced them over board, they went willingly into the open jaws of a Vann Hest.

I would not take my mount if I wished my disappearance to remain a secret, but being a Princess, how could it not? Word of my leave will travel fast, and by day light the whole city will know what has happened. So in the end, it will not truly matter if I take my own beast or one of the others, because they would know that I had left. And besides, because he is mine, I would not be stealing if my father still chooses to banish me.

The Vann Hest shows me the whites of his eyes and bares his sharp teeth, snapping his jaws in my direction. His dilated nostrils blows hot, kelp scented air, not trusting the unfamiliar boy in front of him. Instead of smelling soft and animal like, the beast instead smells of the sea, even after centuries of breeding.

I tilt my head so my hood falls away, and I look him right in the eyes, the dim firelight casting shadows upon us both.

It's only me. I whisper into his mind. He then bows his head in acknowledgment and presses his muzzle into me with welcoming. I back away, not giving him the opportunity to bite me, and reach down to grab his bridle from a hook at the front of the stall. The faint light glints off of a silver plate at the stall front, the name Lasreal inscribed in beautifully scrawled writing on its glinting face.

I slip the headstall over the Vann Hest's ears, then the bit cautiously into his mouth, quick to keep my fingers from his razor sharp teeth. Once I fit it correctly, I lead him out of his stall as quietly as I can, grateful for the dirt floor beneath our feet. Otherwise, the sound of diamond hard hooves would wake the sleeping stable hand from his straw bed.

I think about the stone walk out side of the door that I had slipped in through, as I slide a saddle onto Lasreal's back. That is also the door that I will have to ride out of.

I walk him to the bigger door that is made for the beasts to be taken in and out of, and open it quietly. I step into the stirrup and slide onto the black beast's back and pull the hood back over my face, taking a deep breath and trapping it in my lungs. There's no turning back now.

I kick Lasreal hard, and he explodes out of the doorway, almost immediately causing the guard to wake at the sharp clatter of hooves on stone. When he collects his barings, he shouts, most likely for me to stop, but I don't look back, less I have a change of mind. Instead, I press my heels into Lasreal's sides to keep him moving, urging him on with my body and mind.

He surges with power beneath me, happy to do as I ask and together we fly through the village, past sleepy looking houses and people. Men, women and small children go to windows, some stepping out into the night to point and shout when their lights shine across the gleaming haunches of the Vann Hest .

"Who would be mad enough to attempt this!" I hear a woman cry to her husband, her two young boys clinging to her skirts with terrified expressions. "That is the Princess' beast!"