Frieda took off her bedspread and started packing up her things. It seemed she could never be left well enough alone these days, with Nighthawk burying her in assignments. She didn’t travel well anymore, not after they caught that draft mare. It felt like wrestling a two thousand pound marlin onto a boat, if the marlin had anger issues and supernatural powers.

  “Hey, Black Cat. Need any help?” a stallion’s voice said behind her.

  She gasped and backed up quickly, only to fall into the tree-trunk arms of Cyprus. “You’re not supposed to be here. It’s a mare’s dorm.”

  He wrapped his arms around her trim waist. “Too bad I never learned to read.”

  “Stop it. You know better,” she said, burying her head in his fuzzy chest. She could hear his powerful heartbeat, slow and unwavering.

  “Do I?” he teased.

  She looked up at his big, dopey Roman nose. There was some truth to his words. He was raised to be an Amish plow horse, never got an education. Just like every other horse at Nighthawk, they were made into something out of nothing. She was the daughter of two immigrant Trakehners; trainers stuck up their nose at her when they heard her accent. When her mother was widowed and grew too broken to work, this was the only place that helped her. Here, origins did not matter. It was what you became that made you valuable. No one at Nighthawk could fit in anywhere else.

  “Let me help you,” he said, grooming her withers with his teeth.

  She tried to pull away. “I can take care of myself, Cyprus. I was already doing that for nine years.”

  “Oh, so you do remember when we met?” he said, caressing her cheek warmly.

  She sighed, disappointed in herself. “Don’t tell me it’s-”

  “Our one year anniversary? You know, it’s usually the stallion’s job to forget dates like that,” he joked.

  She rested her head on his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Cyprus. I’m being worked to death. With that draft mare, and this trip coming up, I-”

  He interrupted her by kissing her passionately, pushing her up against the wall. She put her hooves to his chest, his hot breath rushing up against her face and making her melt like butter.

  “Shh. That’s your trouble, Frieda. You talk too much.”

  She laughed softly and went in for another, but just as their lips were about to meet, her pager started buzzing from the bag on the floor.

  “Oh, for Epona’s sake. I’m sorry, Cyprus, I have to take this. I’ll make it up to you,” she said.

  “You better. As soon as you come home,” he whispered.

  They slipped out into the hall silently, Frieda going ahead of him to watch for nosy mares. She trotted down to the elevator at lightning pace, tapping her foot on the pedal to call for it impatiently. When it finally came, it was loaded with other horses, and she had to smash herself between them. She couldn’t even reach the control panel.

  “Can you press the button for the basement?” Frieda called over the busy group.

  The horse closest to the panel pretended not to hear, chatting away with her little bay friend. She swished her tail in annoyance, but held her temper until the elevator stopped and let off a few horses. She shoved her way over to the panel, pushing the two mares out of the way to get to the button.

  “What the hell?” one of the girls said.

  Frieda laid her ears back. “Next time, get out of the way. I’m not going to the basement for my health.”

  The two mares flounced out of the elevator on the next floor, whispering and giggling about Frieda the whole way. She didn’t care that much about being harassed. She only wished that they knew what kind of power she walked around with on a daily basis. It had taken her months of meditation training to be approved for magic use. Now she had the joy of finding out why.

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  The elevator doors parted at the basement level at last, and she immediately heard the vicious screaming of the draft mare. Her heart started pumping quicker as she galloped over to the holding room door and swiped herself in. She breathed deeply to try to keep herself composed. The elder black Fell Pony mare, Queenie, was standing by the door in a panic.

  “Frieda! Thank Epona you’re here,” Queenie said, trotting her way. “Not even the Friesian brothers could calm that beast down.”

  Martis and Tiede hung their heads in defeat, while the draft mare raged behind copper bars.

  “YOUR DAY OF RECKONING WILL COME, AND IT WILL BE BLOODY!” she roared.

  “Oh, Eden. You are an absolute mess,” Frieda said.

  She looked even worse than Frieda remembered from the day of her capture. There was a dingy brown tinge to her cream colored coat, which was thick and coming off in clumps. The whites of her eyes were showing, and she was baring her teeth, rearing up and smashing her chest against the copper bars. Her neck and chest were striped with burns from the copper, but she persisted, the sound of her heavy bones crashing against the bars ringing down the hall.

  “Can you get at her from the outside?” Queenie asked.

  Frieda attempted, but her magic bounced right off Eden’s furious mind. “No, but that’s alright. What’s a meeting between friends?”

  “When I get out of this place, I will tear you limb from limb and make you pay for what you have done. You serve the gods of chaos!” Eden seethed.

  Frieda opened the door to Eden’s cage slightly. The cream mare backed into the corner, and drew her magical weapon out of thin air, a golden broadsword of light. It was almost as big and heavy as Eden herself, and was etched with countless detailed designs. She swung it over her head like a maniac.

  “THE WRATH OF MY ANCESTORS IS UPON YOU! THE PROPHECY MUST BE FULFILLED!” she bellowed.

  Frieda stuck out her hoof and cast her magic upon Eden, and the sword clattered to the ground. The draft mare stumbled, trying to fight it, but Frieda was a powerful mare with many tricks up her sleeve. She slowly crept closer, knowing she would have to get a hold of Eden’s mane to take her down, just as she did before.

  “Eden,” she whispered. “You’re in a terrible mood. I think you’d feel much better if you got some sleep.”

  “I’ve had enough of your sorcery,” Eden growled, growing weaker by the second.

  Frieda grabbed onto Eden’s mane and held it tight, and Eden shrieked in resistance, bucking into the air and trying to escape her grasp. Frieda moved with her, holding onto her like a rodeo bronc rider.

  “You know, Eden, this would be much easier for both of us if you would just relax,” she said firmly, both hooves fixed in her thick hair.

  Eden gave a final ripple of light from her body, and fell nearly onto the floor. Frieda caught her at the last moment, sitting on the tile to withstand the weight of her. Her huge, dark eyes were still open. Her whole body was limp and powerless. She looked pitiful, her yellowed hair spilled all over Frieda’s lap in a knotted mess, neck tipped back and showing her belly like a scared dog.

  “Well, look at that. Goliath has been slain,” Queenie gloated. “Boys, you should be taking notes.”

  Frieda looked up at them, expecting to feel pride, but she couldn’t. Her chest felt like it was going to burst into a million pieces. Tiede and Martis were amazed, watching her fervently, like she was a hero. She didn’t feel like a hero.

  “What are you standing around for? Come in here and help me put her to bed,” Frieda commanded.

  They hurried in like mice, and heaved her up onto the bed with no regard, as if she was made of plastic. Frieda flinched when they dropped her head onto the pillow, and it bounced from impact. The two stallions rushed out of the cell, and Queenie dismissed them. Frieda stayed, sitting on the floor at Eden’s bedside with her hooves folded in her lap.

  “Frieda, what’s bothering you?” Queenie asked, walking over to her.

  “Nothing,” she said, without taking her eyes off Eden.

  The old pony knelt down beside her. “I know how you feel, Frieda. I was in your place not too long ago. I don’t need my magic to see your guilt.”

  “I don’t understand,” Frieda said, breath shuddering.

  “You don’t have to feel bad, Frieda. Holding power like we do, it feels cruel in the moment. Remember, you’re doing an important service to the community. Imagine all the harm she would cause if she wasn’t here,” Queenie comforted. “You have every right to be proud of yourself.”

  Frieda stood up and picked up the blanket off the floor, shook it out, and draped it over Eden methodically.

  “Maybe you’re right. But it will never sit well with me that she is trapped here for the rest of her life, no matter how evil we make her out to be. She is merely a horse, just like you and I.” she said.

  Queenie sighed. “Don’t you remember? She was the leader of a dangerous cult that was taking innocent lives every single day.”

  “She is no god, and neither are we. That is where we will always disagree, Queenie. I do not believe in our power to control the fates. We can only try to tip the scales in our favor.”

  Frieda dimmed the lights and strode out, leaving Queenie in silence.