seventeen
The nutty aroma of roasted barley fills the kitchen. My fingers knead a little more tea in to make it firm—it’s the finest tsampa, the best of best tea. My palate delights as I lick my fingers. Yes, the food has always been nothing but the best quality here at the stables. At least these standards haven’t degenerated.
The anxious stallion in the paddock sprints through my thoughts again. My stomach throws up a protest. Beads of sweat pearl on my upper lip.
“Any idea how we go about this?” I turn to Sangmo as she seizes up a fresh peach in her hand.
“Well, you claim the stables to get rid of these cousins of yours.” Sangmo takes a juicy bite and wipes her mouth with her sleeve. “Since your father is still the current horse master, you marry a good man and let him make the clai
