Her fingers brushed the coarse hair of his underside, and Ruin snapped a hind leg forward, aiming a cow kick directly at her ribs. Basia caught the movement in her peripheral vision, and slammed her elbow hard into his ribs before the hoof could connect. It wasn't a punishing blow, just enough to throw his balance off. The horse scrambled, slamming his foot back onto the ground with a frustrated snort.
She snatched the leather strap, hauled it up, and shoved the heavy brass buckle through the first hole. Ruin immediately bloated his stomach, filling his massive lungs with air to keep the strap loose. It was an old trick. Basia leaned her forehead against his sweaty shoulder, closing her eyes.
She was so tired. Her legs felt hollow. "West." Henry's voice cut through the damp air. "Tell me you have a physician on call."
"Dr. Aris is in the village, Your Grace. It'll take an hour to fetch him."
"Then we'll need a cart to carry her down," Henry said dryly. Basia's eyes snapped open. The exhaustion in her limbs was suddenly burned away by a fresh hot surge of spite. She jammed her knees sharply into the horse's bloated belly.
Ruin exhaled with an indignant grunt. In that split second of deflation, Basia hauled the leather strap up three more notches securing it tightly. The buckle pinched the pad of her thumb, drawing a fresh bead of dark blood, but she didn't care. The saddle was set.
She backed away slowly. The horse stood locked in place, his ears pinned flat against his skull, his eyes rolling white. He looked like a powder keg waiting for a spark. Three minutes.
Basia said, turning her head just enough to look at the Duke. Her chest heaved. The smear of blood and dirt on her face made her look wild feral. Have West fetch a pocket watch.