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“That’s why you hate it here.”

Rafe nodded. “Hate might not be the right word. But yes, it is difficult being here. Walking those halls… I admire your mother. She has a strength I clearly do not possess.”

Sebastian’s gloves squeaked as they tightened on his reins, and his mount sidestepped. “It took a long time for her to get to where she is today,” he said stiffly.

A light breeze swept over them, bringing with it memories of the past.

“I hated you,” Sebastian finally said quietly. “Before you left. I wanted to befriend you so desperately. I couldn’t understand why my brother wanted nothing to do with me.”

Rafe’s muscles hardened, and heavy guilt settled in his stomach.

“I understand now, though.”

Sebastian pulled up his mount, and Rafe followed suit. They looked out across the expansive estate; a hint of the village just beyond the rolling hills. He finally met his brother’s searching gaze.

“You were protecting me.”

Rafe nodded. “My father’s focus was on molding me into his image. You were still invisible. If he thought I cared for you at all, you’d have just been another pawn. Torture you to torture me. But even so… You were there, ready and waiting, his contingency for when I failed him one too many times.”

“That I was.” He looked away. “I finally understood after you left. A very small taste of what you’d been through. Clearly, nothing close to what you experienced.”

“But enough.”

He nodded, jaw clenching. “He separated me from her. After you left. I didn’t see my mother except under his supervision. I’d go months without laying eyes on her. Not knowing how she fared…” He swallowed hard, lips going white. “Until the day he died.”

“She made you weak.” Which wasn’t quite what he meant. “In his eyes,” Rafe amended. Because there was nothing weak in holding affection for another person, for loving another. But it did leave one vulnerable. An area for exploitation for those like his father. “He knew exactly how to make a person hurt. Knew exactly how to agitate an existing wound.”

“He loved it.” Sebastian turned back to him, features twisted into a mask of revulsion. “I was spitting mad when he took her from me. I lashed out, nothing more than a feral animal. He loved. Every. Second. I can still hear his laughter.” He shook his head, a scoff falling from him. “The day I lost all control, the day I cut him with a broken wine bottle…he was so proud.”

Rafe was sure their father was. It probably gave him hope that Sebastian had what it took to follow in his footsteps. Rafe had never rebelled, never fought back. No, Rafe had shut down. And it had only made his father more furious.

Pathetic.

Because Rafe would sit there and take every beating. Wordlessly.

Coward.

Sebastian shook out his arms, then tipped back his head and let out a growl to the heavens. “Fuck him, Rafe. Fuck. Him.” He looked back at Rafe. “Let’s race. I’m going to jump out of my skin. I need to ride. I bet I can beat you to the village edge.”

Storm danced, a snort leaving him. Like he could feel the impending freedom. Rafe loosened his reins. “You’re on.”

They kicked their mounts into a gallop. Rafe leaned low, urging Storm on. There was nothing like riding at a full sprint. Hooves pounding, eating up earth, the pure joy of the beast below you reverberating straight into you. Flying. Free. For a brief while.

Sebastian’s mount was fast, though. A sleek liver chestnut, who passed by Rafe and Storm just as they approached the village. They slowed their mounts, all four of them panting, and let the horses walk it out.

“Hah! I won!” His brother’s face was much too smug.

“I don’t think that was fair,” Rafe said. “You’re a lot lighter than me. Poor Storm had to heave my heavy load.”

“Nobody likes a sore loser, brother.”

“Nobody likes a gloating winner, brother,” Rafe shot back.

Sebastian grinned. “Touché.” He steered his mount down the village lane, each side bordered by shops and businesses. “Let’s visit the blacksmith’s shop. See if my mate is around.”

Rafe’s gaze narrowed. There was a change in Sebastian just then. He’d turned overly chipper, like a child promised sweetmeats.

And as soon as they walked into the blacksmith’s shop, Rafe understood why. Sebastian hurried over to the counter, planting his elbow on it and plopping his chin in his hand. He blinked up at the large man wiping his hands on a rag. “Hullo, Mr. Turner.”