Someday Stables Novels & Stories

It was already time to prep the horses for the Prince's departure to his soon-to-be bride's mansion somewhere up north. I was one of the faceless stable hands in the vast stables of the Campbell palace, just like my brother, cousins, and uncle were. Like the stalls I cleaned, my life held a predictable monotony... hay, hooves, and the occasional fleeting memory of a carefree life with my parents before it fell apart.

There wasn't any other available vehicle since Heron had taken the sports car; he must have been given a task by Senyor Saturnino. It turned out that the horse stable was quite far from the estate. We passed by fields of rice, which seemed vast. Lazarus mentioned that we could have walked the distance from the estate to the horse stable, but he didn't want to because of the heat and dust. When we arrived at the location of the horse stable, I was left speechless. There were at least two stables, each consisting of ten stalls. One stable was for male horses, or stallions. They would use the stallions for breeding.

Sage’s POV The next morning, Tracy dragged me to the stables before I could sit with another pile of reports. He said I looked too serious and needed fresh air, but I knew he was also trying to stop me from thinking about Aleric’s warning from the party. I needed a place where no one would talk about partnerships, rumors, Sophia, or Aleric. Riding a horse sounded better than sitting in my office and staring at numbers until my head hurt. The stables were outside the city, near a wide training field used by several packs. The air smelled of grass, leather, and horses. Tracy jumped down from the car first and stretched both arms over his head.

The stables were a quiet, peaceful place. The air smelled sweetly of hay and horses. Neal helped me onto my gentle horse, Buttercup. His hands were so strong and sure, but also very gentle. He made sure I was comfortable and steady. Then he swung himself onto his own big, strong horse, Storm. Together, we rode out of the castle gates and into the open, green fields.

The golden rays of the sun streamed into the stables. The stables were dry and warm, filled with the earthy scent of hay, damp wood, and fresh manure. Hooves clopped softly against the concrete floor. As one of the horses shifted its weight, another swatted and flicked its tail at a buzzing fly. The stable door creaked open, and a servant stepped in. The smell of sweat, hay, and manure hit him full in the face. His boots sank slightly into the straw-covered floor as he made his way towards the stall.

Anne's hand tightened on his arm as they reached the stable doors. Cedric paused, sweeping his cane over the threshold to determine if he had clear access before he ushered her inside. "Their sire was the famous Firestorm. The two mares I have are called Winter's Heart and Autumn's Flame. I've been calling them Heart and Flame." Anne held her breath in excitement as Cedric counted the stalls, his cane tapping lightly on each stall door they passed. Inquisitive equine faces poked out of the wooden enclosures. Cedric set his cane against one particular stall door. "Ahh, this should be Winter's Heart."

Well, if Dyllen wasn’t ignoring him and had the good humour enough to wave, then whatever had him worried couldn’t be too bad. Any last threads of anxiety over Dyllen left him and he followed his friend with a much lighter step. “Hey, sorry to have you both come so early,” Lejend said apologetically as he strode over to meet them once they entered the stables. It was warm inside, if a little stuffy, and smelt overwhelmingly of horse and manure. The quiet beta led them over to a horse stationed near the entrance, no doubt in anticipation of their arrival.

That was how she met Master Finric, stable master of the CloudClaw palace. The stables stood near the palace’s western courtyard. Inside, the smell of fresh hay tinged with a hint of something strange and sweet. A lingering trace of special magic. The horses themselves were massive, towering beasts, each one at least three times the size of ordinary mounts, muscles rippling beneath glossy coats and their hooves echoing like drumbeats on the stone floor. She was just hanging up the harnesses when a clear, soft but commanding voice echoed from the stable entrance. “Finric, the hay supply is dwindling again.”

We headed outside into the cold. "The storm's coming fast," I said. "We need to move." The stables sat a quarter mile from the main house. I kept two horses there. It belonged to Isolde before she died. After she died, I couldn't bring myself to sell them. Bronwyn didn't complain about the cold or the work. Her cheeks turned pink from the wind. Her breathing became harsh. "Hand me that wrench," I said. "Where'd you learn to work like this?" I asked.

Cadee asked with a tear-streaked face, "Do you happen to be the owner of the saddle company that Stacy is interested in?" "Yes, Cadee, that's my company," she responds with confidence when asked about the "Sitting Pretty" saddle. "Dad says, 'Austin, the social media posts will be down today.'" "Thank you, Sir. Our business is now concluded, and you won't have to deal with any more Mowery’s," she said looking to Carrington in a polite tone. Then she turned towards my sister.