“I might never ride Corr again.I don't know who I am without him.”
“I think of Sean folded low over the red stallion, riding bareback at the top of the cliffs. Of the easy way they had with each other when I met him to look at the uisce mare. I think, even, of the way Sean looked when he stood on the bloody festival rock and said his name, and then Corr's, like it was just one fact after the other. Of the way he said "the sky and the sand and the sea and Corr" to me. And I feel a bite of unfairness, because in everything but name, it seems to me that Sean Kendrick already owns Corr.”
“The only thing is, the more I see him and Corr together, the more I think of how unbearable it would be for Sean to lose him. But we can't both win.”
“Where will you and Corr be?" I ask. Sean presses two fingers along the edge of the counter sweeping crumbs into a pile. I notice that his fingers are permanently dirt-stained like mine. He says," Right next to you and Dove." I stare at him. "You can't risk not winning. Not because of me." Sean doesn't lift his eye from the counter. "We make our move when you make yours. You on the inside, me on the outside. Corr can come from the middle of the pack; he's done it before. It's one side you don't have to worry about.”
“And I told you before, I'll sell you any of the thoroughbreds.”“I didn't make any of those thoroughbreds. I didn't make them what they are.”“You made all of them what they are.”I don't look at him. “None of them made me who I am.”
“There is a little narrowing to his eyes at the end of it that makes me understand that this is a test. Whether or not I'm brave enough to go into the stall with Corr after yesterday morning, after I've had time to think about what happened. The thought of it makes my pulse trip. The question is not if I trust Corr. The question is if I trust Sean.”
“I'm already waiting when Puck gets to the top of the cliffs. I'm not the only one; about two dozen race tourists have made perches out of rocks, watching Corr and me as closely as they dare. Puck glares at them all, searing enough that some of them flinch in surprise. I'm not certain what to expect from her after last night. I don't know how to address her. I don't know what she expects from me or what I expect from me. What I get is a wordless hello and a November cake in my hand.”