The Akhal-Tekes beamed on the inside, their blood hot with the thrill of deception. It was beautiful to see how gloriously Orhan consumed their lies like a hungry street dog. Valve’s eyes flicked toward Maslakhat as soon as El Halin and Orhan’s attention turned to each other. He was vying for answers, and they had given him a delicious one—an enormous falsity wrapped in the sweetness of a singular, unrelated truth. Tragedy is akin to hunger; they both know this.

Maslakhat moved closer to Valve now, placing Orhan and the Arabian mare in a more direct sightline. He moved his lips by the crest of Valve’s poll and nibbled lightly at her mane, disguising his whispers as casual affection.

“We must be vigilant now, with one less card to play,” he reminded her.

Valve blinked heavily, very aware of the situation that they had created. She was not nervous, but she could tell that Maslakhat was. Their leverage with the Arabians was gone in his mind, but the black mare still had her ace in the hole. Gabbar.

“Not quite,” the black mare replied under her breath, pressing her shoulder tighter to Maslakhat’s own, intent that he stay standing near her long enough to see precisely how this situation would play out.

VALVE & MASLAKHAT