She squeezed with her thighs as tightly as she could, clung to the saddle with one hand, to the reins with her other.
There was a metallic creaking and breaking. The Tr6s stumbled and lurched, making a ruin of Ischade’s fence and gate. The beast reared, pounding the twisted wrought iron with its shod hooves. It reared again, screamed, raced away from the house, and collided with a good-size tree.
It staggered back a pace; stared with huge, wet eyes at the offending obstacle.
Dazed, confused, it took a side step, then another, and stood still.
Chenaya hesitated, afraid to let go of saddle or rein. Her heart thundered against her ribs, a trickle of blood ran down her chin; she had bitten her lip.
Finally, she dared to let go of the saddle. With her free hand, she rubbed the small of her back. Breath held much too long hissed between her teeth. She glanced back at Ischade’s fence, let go a low chuckle, then reached down and stroked the Tros’s powerful neck.
“That looked like fun. Do it again.”
Chenaya knew that voice by now. Her gaze rose to find her observer. He looked down at her from a comfortable notch in the very tree the Tr6s had struck.
“Does the Riddler know you’re stealing his horse?” Zip asked sardonically.
She put a finger to her lips and glanced back at Ischade’s darkened windows. “I think he’s too busy knowing the vampire woman, if you get my meaning,” she answered, matching his lighthearted tone. “Are you doing anything tonight? How about a date?”
Zip swung his legs back and forth absent-mindedly, much as she had done earlier at the wharf. The similarity struck her as odd.