The King.

Chapter 4

Anxiously pacing my stall, I glanced around, snorting softly. When am I going to be put out on my grass? Being a race horse, this occurrence was fewer than most. My diet was very strict. My tail lashed, and I leaned down, nudging my hay in boredom. I could hear other horses around me pacing, or trying to entertain themselves as best as possible, as they always do later in the day.

I heard the light scuff of sneakers on the concrete, and I was aware of someone coming down. My head automatically lifting, I let out a thrilled neigh at even the slightest hope of entertainment. Another visitor? Perhaps. Or perhaps looking at another horse. Peering out of the bars hopefully, my ears flicked, desperately trying to see past the corner past my stall. Every horse was pressing their face to the cold bars, hoping to see a few kind people to love them and give them treats, their expression what I assumed mirrored mine. After all, that's all a horse wants. I was pleased to see none other than James striding down the isle, adjusting the way his hat rested on his head by tugging on the brim, his shocking blue eyes fixed on his scruffy sneakers. I was relieved to find him dressed casually today, so that meant no one was coming to look at me or anything of that sort. Then he shoved his fists in his pockets, and my hopes rose. Maybe he will visit me! Than again, James owns nearly half of the horses in here that he could visit. I shouldn't get excited.

I nickered softly in relief when he stopped in front of my door, my ears pricking. The other horses went back to search for entertainment, their hopes crashing, and I sent them a smug look. I got some ears pinned, and even one kicked at the side of their stall, but James pleasently ignored them. I peered at James features, and an odd emotion made my heart skip a beat.

Worry. 

He seemed very stressed, his face pale, his jaw clenched, black bags under his eyes making him look like he just got socked in the face, proving his exhaustion. He removed his hat, running his fingers through his messy brown hair, fixing his bright blue gaze one me, reminding me of dear Rosy.

"Rosy's eight now, King" He chuckled, followed by a bittersweet smile. "They grow up fast, eh?" He tilted his head in question, placing the hat loosely on his tousled hair. He stared at me for a moment, and I stared back in silence that seemed to grow even more awkward by the minute. Then he slowly opened my door, slipping into my warm and well-kept stall, cautious of my movements. He sighed, closing the door quietly behind him. "She had a fabulous party. She wanted to see you so badly, she did. Nearly threw a fit." He grinned, but I could tell it was forced. He stepped farther into the stall, quite daringly, and one of my ears cocked back in question. "I got her a horse.." He sighed softly, running a hand down my sleek neck. "She was a nice mare. A shiny, red mare, with blue eyes like you would never believe. Just like Rosy's." He leaned slightly against my shoulder, and I held him up. He stared blankly at a wall. "She's a very tame and gentle quarter horse. Not quite like the looming, lean Thoroughbreds Rosy's used to. But she's a beauty." He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes now flickering around the stall nervously. "Rosy refuses to ride her." His gaze flickered down, his voice cracking as he said this. He didn't seem upset, more just disappointed. I nudged his side, watching him carefully. He smiled just a bit wider, placing a hand on my soft nose. I breathed in his scent, then slowly exhaled, tickling his skin slightly. "I don't blame her, honestly. I know what she wants. She wants a lively racing machine." He shook his head. "She wants a horse that would be a thrill to ride. One full of risks. But she loves risks." He chuckled. "Gets it from her mother. Their quite daredevils..." He looked up at me. "But their so.. Dangerous. I could never forgive myself if she hurt herself. It would be... Unbelievable." He sighed again, his false smile dropping. "And I do not want to sell Missy." I assumed she was the red mare he was speaking so fondly about. "She's a sweetheart, really. Nobody could help falling in love with her at first sight..." He laughed softly as he watched jealousy flicker across my face. Was this mare stealing my attention? "Just like you." He added, his blue eyes sparkling. Then he looked back down, biting his lip, awkward silence enveloping us again. He cleared his throat, nodding. "Well, I will get going. No need to depress you any more." He pushed off of my side, and I relaxed, feeling his weight lift from my shoulder, which was still sore from previous working out. He slipped out of the stall, the door making a clanging sound as he shut it with a bit more force than before. Leaning on the stall, he held his head helplessly, clenching his jaw. "Shes so hard headed!" He huffed, cursing silently. Then he relaxed, frowning, rubbing his cheek. They had grown warm with embarrassment, not wanting to express his temper. "Which... I guess comes a bit from me." He mumbled sheepishly, followed by yet another sigh. "But she knows what she wants King, believe me." His sad gaze lifted, frowning at me. "She wants you." 

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As he strode away without any other word, I don't know what to be more shocked with. That Rosy trusts me enough to ride me, or that my master doesn't trust me enough to let her. My ears flicked back, snorting, my eyes fixed on his back as he left, not turning around once. No treat. Nothing. My tail swished, and I began pacing my stall once again, growing a little more upset with each passing second. I would never hurt her... Doesn't he know that? I thought he trusted me. After all, I have only thrown a few jockeys.... Okay, 28, but who's keeping count? Besides, all of them were much more harsh than she would be. But... She is six. And a beginner. So wouldn't she just not know better?... No, she knows me. More than anyone. She's just eight, but she understands me more than James ever could.

The battle raged on in my head as I continued to pace, hardly even focusing on what I was doing. The bay horse next to my stall peered questioningly into mine, blinking, a few pieces of hay hanging out from his lip, but I ignored his gaze. I snorted, stomping my hoof. It's just not fair!