Today her fifth hour planning period couldn't come soon enough or last long enough. As soon as the bell chimed to begin fifth hour she made a hasty exit from the arena. An arena that was still half filled with male fledglings waving swords at one another and shooting arrows at targets.

"Give Bonnie the hour off," she told Travis as she passed him. "But keep an eye on those fledglings. I don't want any of them annoying the horses."

"Yes, ma'am. Some of 'em think horses are big dogs," the cowboy said, giving the group of fledglings a steely-eyed stare. "They ain't."

"I need a break from constantly watching them. I had no idea so many non-riding fledglings were fascinated by horses." She shook her head wearily.

"Take your break. I'll have a word with Darius and Stark. They need to keep better corral on those kids."

"I couldn't agree more," Lenobia muttered and, feeling surprisingly grateful that Travis was the one heading to lecture the two Warriors, she slipped out into the cool quiet of the night.

Her bench was as empty as the busy school building was full. The breeze had kicked up and was unusually warm for late winter. Lenobia was grateful for it, and for the solitude. She sat, rolling her shoulders and inhaling then expelling a long breath.

She wasn't exactly sorry she'd welcomed the Warrior class to her domain, but the influx of fledglings-non-equestrian fledglings-was taking some getting used to. It seemed every time she turned her head an errant student wandered from the arena into her stables. So far just this day she'd found three of them gaping like young codfish at a broodmare who was perilously close to foaling and therefore restless and touchy and not in the mood for fish. The mare had actually tried to take a bite out of one of the boys who'd said he was just wanting to pet her. "Like she was, indeed, a big dog," Lenobia grumbled under her breath. But that was better than the foolish third former who'd thought it was a good idea to try to lift one of Bonnie's hooves on a bet from his friends so they could wager on how heavy it really was. Bonnie had spooked when one of the boys had yelped about it being a real big paw and the mare, completely off balanced and disconcerted, had gone down on her knees.

Thankfully, she'd been on the arena sawdust and not bruising, breaking concrete.

Travis, who had been overseeing a small group of her regular students who were learning about ground driving, had dealt with the two boys swiftly. Lenobia smiled, remembering how he'd grabbed each by the scruff of their collars and thrown them directly into a pile of Bonnie's manure that was, as he'd said, almost as big and heavy as one of her hooves. Then he'd quieted his mare with a few reassuring touches as he checked her knees, fed her one of the apple wafers he seemed to always have in his pocket, and completely nonplused, had gone back to the group of ground-driving fledglings.

He's good with the students, she thought. Almost as good as he is with the horses.

Truth be told, it appeared as if Travis Foster was going to be an asset to her stables. Lenobia laughed softly. Neferet was going to be sorely disappointed about that.

Her laughter died quickly, though, replaced by the stomach-rolling tension that had haunted her since she'd met Travis and his horse. It's because he's a human,Lenobia acknowledged silently to herself. I'm just not used to having a human male around me.

She'd forgotten things about them. How spontaneous their laughter could be. How they could take pleasure that felt so new in things that were so old to her, like a simple sunrise. How briefly and brightly they lived.

Twenty-seven, ma'am. That's how many years he'd lived on this earth. He'd known twenty-seven years of sunrises and she'd known more than two hundred and forty of them. He would probably only know thirty or forty more years of sunrises, and then he would die.

Their lives were so brief.

Some briefer than others. Some didn't even live to see twenty-one summers, let alone enough sunrises to fill a life.

No! Lenobia's mind skittered away from that memory. The cowboy was not going to awaken those memories. She'd closed the door to them the day she'd been Marked-that terrible, wonderful day. The door wouldn't, couldn't open now or ever again.

Neferet knew some of Lenobia's past. They'd been friends once, she and the High Priestess. They'd talked and Lenobia used to believe they'd shared confidences. It had, of course, been a false friendship. Even before Kalona had emerged from the earth to stand by Neferet's side, Lenobia had begun to realize there was something very wrong with the High Priestess-something dark and disturbing.