Marcus, what you’re going to do is just walk her around the stable, okay?” Ian was saying, one hand on the thick brown leather saddle.
Marcus, in the white jacket and red epaulets of a Cinderella Prince Charming, clutched the reins and swallowed. “What if I fall off?”
“You won’t fall off. Little kids ride her,” Ian said patiently. “At birthday parties. With their grandmothers. That’s why you have Lulu, because she’s gentle.”
For her part, Lulu stood placidly chewing on her bit. She rolled one of her golf-ball eyes at Tinker Bell, and Tinker Bell twitched in fear before activating a full-body tremor.
“It’s okay,” I said as Tink kicked her tiny legs, struggling to leap out of my arms and cause more mischief, probably by scurrying around the horse’s hooves and causing her to canter. I clutched her tightly and whispered, “Oh, no you don’t.”
“Zoe?” Ian squinted, like he couldn’t make out the real me through the makeup. “What’re you doing here?” He ran a hand through his black hair, grinning, obviously pleased to see me.
I flashed an apologetic smile at Marcus, who’d given up the reins and was pitched forward, hugging the saddle. Despite the barnyard stench, his princely cologne of pungent Amazonian orchids wafted toward me and, unlike my first experience with Dash, I almost swooned. Perhaps its effects were cumulative. Or maybe Marcus, knowing he could use all the help he could get, had laid on the pheromones a little too thick.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I said, stepping away from the cologne to clear my thoughts, “but I’m trying to find Dr. Venderbraugh, the vet. Tinker Bell ate some chocolate.”
“Did you now?” Ian asked Tink, scratching her between the ears. Tink approved with adoring eyes, the traitor. “How much?”
I couldn’t tell what role Ian was playing here, assistant vet or what. “Not much. A lick. Maybe two.”
“Ah, that’s nothing. If you’re really worried, you can give her equal parts water and hydrogen peroxide—in her case, I’d say a tablespoon of each—and she’ll—”
“Ian!” Marcus shouted in panic. “The horse! It’s moving. Now what do I do? Ian?”
Lulu had begun her lazy trot up the path. Honestly, I’ve seen grannies in walkers with tennis balls on the bottom move faster.
“First take the reins, not the saddle,” Ian said.
Marcus wiped sweat off his forehead and, after much mumbling, quickly grabbed the reins. “I hate this. I’m a surfer, not a horse rider. I’m going to fall off and be paralyzed and never get on the board again.”
“Dude, chill. Now just let her lead the way. She knows the route. And don’t forget!” Ian called. “She’s a big, dumb beast.” To me, he added in an aside, “They should have a lot in common.”
We watched Marcus and Lulu mosey up the path at a snail’s pace. “How’s he going to survive as Prince Charming if he can’t ride a horse?” I asked.
Ian shrugged. “I dunno. He’s supposed to be galloping through the park to meet Cinderella before the dance. At this rate she’ll be lucky if he makes it to her retirement party.”
“And even though you’re Puss ’n Boots you’re helping him because . . .”
“Because Scott the equestrian trainer is working with the other princes who aren’t so afraid. Having grown up on my dad’s ranch in Colorado, I’m pretty good with large animals and tourists who’ve never ridden.”
“This would be the ranch with the cannibalistic chickens?”
Ian brightened. “I’m telling you, don’t mess. They’re vicious. Kind of like our Queen, from what I hear. Is she really as hideous as everyone says?”
“I’ll let you decide,” I said. “This morning, after I brought her a chocolate croissant, she accused me of attempting to kill her dog.”
“And were you?”
“What?”
“Trying to kill her dog?”
I was shocked by the question, though Ian was laughing like the Queen wasn’t a threat at all.
“Seriously, you have no idea,” I said, launching into how I’d tried to be the perfect assistant, only to be a complete disaster. “I cannot screw up again, or I’ll get one more demerit and be out of the program, guaranteed.”
“I don’t believe it. She’s just scaring you since it’s the first day.”
“She’s not. She’s out to get me.” I held up Tinker Bell. “And her little dog, too. I need advice on what to do.”
Ian wiped his hand on a dirty rag, thinking. “How about this? Ask RJ. He knows everything about this park, and maybe he can get in touch with one of the Queen’s former assistants who could give you the lowdown. You