when he’d seen Rafael but he still sounded guilty.
‘Blaze?’
‘My papa’s horse,’ he said in a thread of a whisper. Then his voice firmed. ‘Blaze is my horse now. I thought about him while I was in Australia. I thought and thought. Papa’s dead. I don’t think anyone’s told Blaze.’
‘I’m sure someone’s already told him,’ Kelly said. ‘And we can tell him again in the morning. Sweetheart, you should be in bed.’
‘I was in bed for hours and hours,’ Matty said. ‘I woke up and it feels like morning. So I had to tell Blaze.’
‘Matty, Blaze already knows that your papa is dead,’ Rafael said. They were standing side by side, looking down at the little prince. Matty was looking young, vulnerable but also determined. His small chin jutted forward in a gesture Kelly was starting to recognize.
‘I should have told him myself,’ Matty said fretfully. ‘He’s my horse.’
‘I guess we need to come with you then, to make sure he’s okay,’ Rafael said. ‘If it’s okay with your mama.’
Horses. She didn’t want to go anywhere near horses. Especially not Kass’s horse. Blaze was the magnificent animal that had propelled her into trouble in the first place. She cast a despairing glance at Rafael but, to her astonishment, he took her hand and squeezed, almost as if he understood.
‘A quick visit and then bed,’ he said. ‘Better than wasting time arguing. Matty, do you know where Blaze is stabled?’
‘Of course I do,’ Matty said scornfully.
‘Then lead on,’ Rafael said gently and the little boy looked uncertainly up at the adults before him, then shrugged and led the way into the stables.
They were just as Kelly remembered.
Six years ago Kass had brought her in here at dawn, introduced her to each of the royal horses and then said, ‘Choose your mount.’
For Kelly, who loved horses almost more than life itself, it had been the sexiest thing Kass could possibly have done. She’d walked between each stall while Kass had stood indulgently back, like a genie who’d just oozed from his bottle and snapped his fingers.
Then he’d called the stable-hands to saddle the mare of her choice; he’d mounted the huge black stallion with the blaze of white on its forehead and they’d ridden out into the dawn together.
It had been heady stuff for a kid who’d spent her life lusting after a horse of her own. Heady enough stuff to remove any sense of self-preservation, to make her walk straight into a web that she could never walk out of.
Now she walked into the stables feeling just the same—as if a door would slam behind her and she’d be stuck. But Matty was walking steadily forward to the first stall.
Kelly peered nervously over the door. A mare stood placidly at the rear of the stall, head down in the manger.
‘It’s not Blaze.’
‘He’s here somewhere. I have to find him.’
‘He’s at the end,’ Rafael said and motioned along the doorways. His height gave him the advantage. Kelly turned and saw what Rafael was seeing, the great stallion standing at ease, staring out at them with seeming unconcern.
She flinched and Rafael stepped forward and took her arm.
‘It’s okay.’
‘I know it’s okay,’ she muttered. ‘I…I know horses.’
‘Do you know Blaze?’ Matty asked.
‘I’ve met him,’ she muttered. ‘Matty, he’s too big for you to go near.’
‘He’s my horse,’ Matty said, sounding rebellious. ‘My papa said the Prince has to have the best, and Blaze is the best. I knew when he died I’d have to take care of him. Like the country. Crater says I have to take care of the country.’
It was such an astounding statement coming out of the mouth of a five-year-old that neither Rafael nor Kelly could think of a response.
‘But Crater says you’ll help,’ Matty said, almost indulgently, and walked forward to Blaze’s stall. He stood looking uncertainly up at the big horse, as if unsure how to approach him. ‘He’s very big.’
‘I think your father would want you to ride a much smaller horse for a while,’ Kelly said but Matty shook his head.
‘Someone has to ride Blaze.’
‘Maybe Rafael…’
‘I don’t ride,’ Rafael said.
‘Me either,’ Kelly retorted.
‘Crater said my mother rides like the wind,’ Matty said, turning to stare at her as if he’d been given deeply erroneous information—information that was very, very important.
‘People change,’ Kelly said. ‘I…I don’t ride any more.’
‘Why not?’
‘I just don’t,’ she said helplessly. ‘I study instead.’
‘Who will help me look after the horses?’
‘I…we’ll employ people,’ Kelly said. ‘Maybe…I mean we probably already do. Don’t we, Rafael?’
‘I guess.’ Rafael peered hopefully into the stalls. ‘They’ve all got hay and fresh water. They’re obviously being taken care of.’
‘But I need to know for sure,’ Matty said definitely. ‘I’ll find out tomorrow. And Ellen says there’s a dep…a deputation coming from the village. I need to see them.’
‘They’re coming tonight and they’re coming to see your Uncle Rafael,’ Kelly told him.
‘I’m the Prince,’ Matty said. ‘Uncle Rafael doesn’t want to be the Prince.’
‘Uncle Rafael is the Prince until you’re older,’ Kelly said.
‘He doesn’t even want to ride horses.’
‘He doesn’t have a choice,’ Kelly snapped. It was too much. Her tiny prince was looking cold and shaky. She picked him up before he could make a protest and held him close. ‘Meanwhile, you need to go back to bed. Stop worrying about tomorrow.’
‘I have to worry about it,’ Matty said. ‘I’m…’
‘You’re a little boy who needs to be a little boy,’ she said solidly. ‘And little boys need to do what their mothers tell them. Which is go to bed and not worry. Your Uncle Rafael will take care of everything.’
‘Sure,’ Rafael said morosely.
‘See,’ Matty said. ‘He doesn’t want to.’
‘I
